valzhang | Entries tagged with reading

I don't know how to describe how I feel about this book to be honest. My thoughts on it are contradictory; I feel in some way it was lackluster, yet at the same time I can also say that it was everything it needed to be. It wasn't exactly fun or exciting to read, with a somber atmosphere, but at the same time it kept me hooked and I devoured it in a day.

Despite it all, the one thing I can say is that I did really like it. Maybe the complexity is part of the appeal.

One thing that this book does really really well is setting up the suffocating atmosphere and environment. The religion that surrounds our protagonist Jeanette is her entire world and the writing conveys that so well to the point it's almost chilling. I like how absolutely zealous she is, especially from childhood! It paints the picture of what a perfect to-be missionary she was, which of course sets the stage to be juxtaposed by her sexuality and the aspects of her that cannot be reconciled with the church.

It's great how much it showed how her life revolved around religion, but while it suffocated me, Jeanette is happy with it because it's all she's ever known. I loved reading about her religious passion. A+.

"No, yes, I mean of course I love her."

"I will read you the words of St Paul," announced the pastor, and he did, and many more words besides about unnatural passions and the mark of the demon.

"To the pure all things are pure," I yelled at him. "It's you not us."

I did think this novel was going to be more of a love story than it really was. I thought there would be one girl that Jeanette would leave the church for and that they would have a more prominent romance, but that really wasn't the central focus of the plot. Instead this is very much a mom-daughter book, it's all about that toxic connection between them. It's so interesting and terrible! Jeanette relies on her mother so much and only ever wanted what her mother wanted.

Meanwhile her mother was always toxic since the beginning. A lot of motherhood stories have a tinge of sympathy in them because the mother is only doing what she thinks is best for her child—this is not one of those stories, or rather it is but her mother's worldview and ideals are so twisted and far away from mine that I can't process it that way. We don't really get that much insight into the mother's inner workings. We only see what Jeanette sees. I love that. It really puts you into the shoes of a daughter who cannot truly understand her mother because of the inherent distance between them, especially toward the end.

Now I will say I wish the romance(s) had been a little more developed. Like I said it's not the main focus so it isn't that big of a deal, but to be honest I didn't even know Melanie and Jeanette had gotten together until they kissed. Maybe I'm stupid. It just felt a little too subtle for a book centring all around sexuality. I don't need much more, but just a few more interactions between them, I really would've liked. And it would've made the souring of their relationship later hit a lot harder.

The writing style and prose were nice but didn't totally stun me, the book's strengths lie in other aspects... I really did like the section where Jeanette's story was told through a fairytale/parable though. It gets very creative with the storytelling sometimes.

We were quiet, and I traced the outline of her marvellous bones and the triangle of muscle in her stomach. What is it about intimacy that makes it so very disturbing?

The ending, or rather the entire last half after her sexuality is revealed, is super sickening. The torture she went through really make you feel for her! A part that really resonated with me is when they blamed her sexuality on her job as a preacher giving sermons, something she was good at because of her devotion to God and the church. The way it perfectly showcases the limitations of her sex and how people will twist even her most devout services into something evil the second she shows any kind of disobedience. Guh. I like how the ultimate tragedy of the story is that the world would not let her love for God and her love for women coexist.

I kept wanting her to cut ties with everything and just live freely, get a nice girlfriend, be happy. But well I knew deep down that was not happening. The fact that she sticks by her mother's side (or rather, her mother sticks to her side) until the very end, what a gut-punch!!! Tying a string around one of her buttons so she can pull Jeanette back to her any time... oh my god. Awesomesauce.

Okay now that I'm writing this I can't really think about anything I super disliked about this novel which is strange. I just feel like there's something missing to make me crazy about it. Or maybe a bunch of tiny things like the aforementioned lack of development in the romance or the just-okay writing style. Maybe a bit more equality between exploration of her sexuality and identity, and the activities of her religion? There were many passages where it was just church activities and while I liked those parts maybe I would've appreciated more balance too.

It's hard. I can't really point out what more I want, but I do... want more. Yeah, there's a certain je ne sais quoi there that it needs.

But overall, still an amazing book, honestly! I didn't even realise how much I loved it until now when I'm writing this but I feel like I could talk about it for hours. It's not a broadly relatable book for all lesbians, I myself wasn't raised very religious, but there are certainly aspects that I could see myself in. While I could relate in some ways, in other ways I also felt lucky to be able to get this personal window into Winterson's childhood and experience that I could not really relate to but sympathized with all the same.

I understand why it's considered such a classic among queers. I'm seriously bad at this rating thing and consistency, but 9/10 perhaps.

But where was God now, with heaven full of astronauts, and the Lord overthrown? I miss God. I miss the company of someone utterly loyal. I still don't think of God as my betrayer. The servants of God, yes, but servants by their very nature betray. I miss God who was my friend.

Current Music: Hop Along - Bruno Is Orange

With how long I've been hungering after this book, I would've been mad if it let me down, especially after Bored Gay Werewolf (which I didn't hate, but definitely regret spending money on). Thankfully, though, I like this book a lot more!

It was unexpectedly a lot more poetic than I thought it would be, the structure is definitely more akin to that of a poem than a really narrative novel. I'm not really a poetry guy—of course there are poems and poets that I love, but I generally am better at reading and enjoying novels. But I loved this. The more poetic style of writing with less capitalization, less punctuation, went really well with the narrative voice of the mountain lion protagonist. I can believe that if a lion knew English, this might be how he thinks to himself and sees the world.

On that note, that's another thing I love, the perspective. I mean the concept of it in itself is already terribly interesting, and I think the author really managed to carry it out. Again, it just feels believable that this is the mind of a mountain lion we're reading. There are many little details that really sell that immersion.

The plot is honestly a bit lackluster but I don't mind it too much; again, this is very much poem-like, so I guess the story matters a bit less in face of the character study going on (which is excellent). I really really cared for the lion, and even though it's immersive as an animal character it's also really relatable in some parts. Toeing the line between 'human' and 'animal' is the whole point after all, and I found myself very sympathetic to his pains of hunger and wondering at humanity.

I spent all night terrified and slinking along the side daring myself to cross and when the light broke over the hill I saw the body of the kill sharer

his fur coated in a mix of dried deer blood and wet cat blood and his own blood

I ran straight across the long death my feet determined and pounding because I wanted to die

I'm not that lucky

The lion's musings about his past relationship with his parents—his kind mother and his ruthless father—really hit me, I liked them a lot. And his connection with the kill-sharer too. I really love this feeling that he loved them deeply, that he feels things such as nostalgia and longing and yearning, but he can't fully express them in our language because, again, he doesn't speak it fluently. It almost feels like there's a heart to this book that you can feel, straining to communicate itself through the words, even if doesn't exactly get explicitly stated through these limitations.

And the ending, augh. It broke my heart so bad. I feel like there are many ways you could interpret it but I loved it, it really felt like coming full circle. Even though it's open-ended, it felt like it wrapped up every little string and theme in the story perfectly well. And it's narrated so perfectly too, I love the writing all throughout but in particularly the ending it is 10/10.

But of course, it's not perfect. With how much this was marketed as a story about a gay mountain lion, I expected queerness to be more present, but it wasn't really. Like it definitely was there—the romance between the lion and the kill-sharer, and perhaps the way he later on gets referred to with feminine terms, playing with gender—but it felt more like one of many aspects instead of a main focus. I didn't mind it so much, but I really think it was just a marketing problem LOL. I think I really would've liked to get to see more thoughts and memories about the kill-sharer.

Another thing is that the blurb and summary talk about the conflicting desires of wanting to be a human vs. wanting to eat one, but I felt that wasn't really in the book either. Maybe I'll reread it again looking for that, but it felt more solidly like the lion just wanted to be human, period. He never really struggles with bloodlust or hunger in a major way throughout the book. I know this is an odd nitpick, but this is a theme that I love, so I was a little put off by its absence.

Other than that, however, those are just small things in a book that was otherwise so so good. 9/10, very easy and quick to read while still being emotional and really exploring the characters and society in it.

And I just love animal characters. In every sense of the word.

I can smell his blood on the pavement and I'm not at all hungry

this is not about need

no this is want

it's a terrible choice but I'm making it

just like a person

Current Music: Stromae - Papaoutai

Is it just me or was this month long as fuck? Well it was better than January at least.

! = Priority

CR:

The Stone Gods — Jeanette Winterson

TBR:

These Violent Delights — Micah Nemerever
Notes from Underground — Fyodor Dostoevsky (!)
The Brothers Karamazov — Fyodor Dostoevsky
Hamlet — Shakespeare
The Waves — Virginia Woolf
Confessions of a Mask — Yukio Mishima
The Passion — Jeanette Winterson
Piranesi — Susanna Clarke

AR:

Open Throat — Henry Hoke
The Regatta Mystery and other stories — Agatha Christie
The Beautiful and Damned — F. Scott Fitzgerald
Less Than Zero — Bret Easton Ellis
Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit — Jeanette Winterson

Would you look at that, I actually read books off my TBR this time! I'm using my Storygraph to list more books that I want to read so I'm not going to be changing the TBR on here too much, just a few notable ones that I really want to read. But for the most part I'm definitely just going to go more with the flow. Especially since the availability of these books aren't great... I don't want to be buying more books since I'm tight on money. So it'll just have to be anything I can get from the libraries.

Anyway, some good books this month. I'm going to write my thoughts out on Open Throat soon. I'm also getting interested in Winterson's works, though the jury's still out on whether I love her. I've heard mixed opinions on a majority of her novels. We'll see when I start The Stone Gods.

Let me jump straight into saying this. With how much I loved and enjoyed the other two BEE works I read, I was really looking forward to this one. Especially since a lot of people seem to like it. Less Than Zero wasn't a bad experience, but it left me rather disappointed.

I'll say the things I did like first of all, though. As always, the narrative voice is spot-on. It's such a harrowing level of detached, a mind totally numbed by youth and drugs and the inability to care about anything. Not as emotional as The Shards but not as evilly apathetic as American Psycho. I liked that Clay, the protagonist, seemed so totally uncaring, but there were a few well-placed scenes of emotion. I think nostalgia, or perhaps a longing for the past in general, was a theme this book was playing with that I really enjoyed. When he displays that sort of yearning, it's a nice contrast from how utterly meaningless his life is in the present.

Related to that is the writing style. I don't think it's as wonderfully well-developed as The Shards or even AP, but I did like it, though maybe it is my own fond slant toward run-on sentences and surreal writing. The dialogue was pretty natural while also being ridiculous in that insufferable way typical of Ellis' characters.

Atmosphere is a staple in his books as well, and this novel is no different. Again, it really chokes you with its setting, though I did think The Shards did it better.

Toward the end was when things started to not only pick up but also become clear. Loss of innocence, corruption and evil, the passage of time, apathy toward the world and its utter depravity; I think these were all conveyed really well through the characters and events, and in a delightfully harrowing way. I really did close the book satisfied and a little relieved that it had meant something. There were a lot of things that I did like, so I can qualify it overall as a book that I liked and don't regret reading.

His hand drops down to Julian's jockey shorts and Julian closes his eyes. "You're a very nice young man."

An image of Julian in fifth grade, kicking a soccer ball across a green field.

"Yes, you're a very beautiful boy," the man from Indiana says, "and here, that's all that matters."

That being said... man, the first half was boring. I'm sorry, that's my entire main gripe. Nothing happens. I know that's the point, that the protagonist is just coasting through life with no real goals or desires—but that doesn't change the fact that I was badly hoping for something, anything, special to happen so I could be entertained. Maybe it's just my terrible attention span. Maybe I'm just turbo ADHD and dopamine poisoned. Doesn't change the fact that I unfortunately wasn't enjoying or even interested in it for the first 100 pages, which is why it took me so long to finish.

This doesn't mean that everything in the first half is a total slog. Like I said, there were parts that I liked. The Julian plotline, for one, is one thing that I was truly invested in and wanted to see more of. Clay looking back on his memories of his past, as well as his relationship with Blair, were also really interesting to me. But a lot of everything else was a chop. It's just lots of set-up and while the pay-off is worth it I have a feeling Ellis wasn't very concerned with making it actually good to read. Respect I guess.

I keep comparing this to The Shards and AP but that really is just because I think a lot about this book is done better in those two novels respectively. The very emotionless evil and apathy, surrounded by characters who are seemingly interchangeable, is great in AP, not to mention the dialogue and interactions in AP are much more entertaining and funny! And the general atmosphere and relationships between the characters (who are similar to Bret and his friends) are more fleshed out and meaningful in The Shards. It makes sense because in-lore Bret the character wrote LTZ, but still.

There are things that are unique about this book, again I don't regret reading it at all. I feel like I'm overexaggerating a bit here about the bad parts. I really did like this book, but I'm complaining about it so much because I had high expectations and I feel that it could've been a lot better! There are ways that apathy and indifference could've been expressed in the beginning without being a snoozefest.

Generally I just feel like this book wasn't very tightly written. If The Shards is accurate about its writing and that it was mostly just teenager's stream-of-consciousness first attempt at a novel, well, I believe that. A very artistically talented teenager, admittedly.

I give Less Than Zero a 7/10. Despite all its flaws, I would still recommend it to anyone looking to check out BEE's novels.

"I don't know if any other person I've been with has been really there, either... but at least they tried. ... You never did. Other people made an effort and you just... it was beyond you." She takes another sip of her wine. "You were never there. I felt sorry for you for a little while, but then I found it hard to. You're a beautiful boy, Clay, but that's about it."

Long time no see! Look, in my defense this book was pretty heavy and left me stunlocked the entire time I was reading it. I knew it would have disturbing themes but I didn't think it would be this graphic and such a large part of the plot, though I'm getting ahead of myself here.

This is a book about society. I walked into it not knowing this (there's no summary on the back) but even in the beginning it becomes very clear. First of all, the narration is so good. Natsuki is such a fascinating main character to be privy to. The metaphors and imagery that the book makes use of to portray her twisted perception of the world and the society around her are so clever and vivid. Likening societal pressures to have kids, as a breeding machine, using the imagery of insects? It gives it all such a grotesque touch and most of all really puts you in Natsuki's head and makes you understand her disgust and alienation from society.

While the start was a bit slow, it wasn't necessarily uninteresting. Far from it, actually. The way it kind of uses Natsuki's family as a vessel to represent wider society is wonderful, from the start you can get the feeling that this is a family that is in one way or another abusive. I like that it depicts incest and how it forms as a byproduct of this abuse, how Yuu and Natsuki's relationship is on one hand "good" because it's the only thing that brings them happiness and they are each other's only solace but is also terribly fucked up because they shouldn't be this way, that they are only this because they've suffered so much. Just the overall setup of the main family and how that seamlessly leads into the story and the main themes are so well-done.

"Yuu, have you ever thought that your life doesn't belong to you?"

For a moment he couldn't get his words out, but then he said in a small voice, "Children's lives never belong to them. The grown-ups own us. If your mom abandons you, you won't be able to eat, and you can't go anywhere without help from a grown-up. It's the same for all children." He reached out a hand to cut a flower from the bed. "That's why we have to try hard to survive until we've grown up ourselves."

Once the pace picked up and Natsuki was an adult, it was so interesting I could barely put the book down. Even though Natsuki is in some ways quite a dry narrator, who does not seem to feel emotions like others do, speaks and thinks in a detached way, and disassociates often; you can't help but care for her so so deeply. Her life is so shit and all you want is for her to be happy, to return to her home planet, even if she's so strange she borderlines on psychotic. I think anyone who reads this will find themselves in love with and rooting for Natsuki, not despite, but because of her alienation.

The dynamic I liked the most was the one between Natsuki and her husband. It was so sweet in a really weird and twisted way? How much they understood each other and helped each other drove me nearly to tears. Between Natsuki, an alien trying to conform and hoping to be brainwashed, and Tomoya, a human who had become aware of the Factory and desperately wanted to escape it.

Despite everything, the book was also funny! There were parts where I laughed, the dark comedy angle was really quite effective here. At some point it became so bizarre there was really nothing else to do except laugh.

If there are a few tiny nitpicks I had with this book, one of them is the dialogue. Just felt a little stiff. This is translated from Japanese, which I've said before is a hard language to translate, so I definitely understand if some things are a little awkward. But there were some parts where it was so obvious how awkward and translated it was. Maybe that's the point, considering the whole theme of the book and its characters, but eh. I think just a few fixes would've made it flow better and the interactions feel more natural.

Another thing was... the ending. I have both negative and positive things to say about it? I liked their descent into delusion and total nonhumanity, it's cathartic in a way. And I find it interesting that they mirrored society back at itself, despite claiming to be free of it; reminded me a little of (I know, weird comparison) Animal Farm. I enjoyed most of this part, but the very ending was just a little too incomprehensible to me? Again, I know that's the point, but when it comes to personal enjoyment... I just wish there was a little clearer of an idea of what was going on. Considering the entire novel is deeply odd and gets across its message quite well, I don't think it would've detracted from it at all if the ending was just slightly more grounded in reality. So, yeah, I didn't feel quite fulfilled and satisfied as I turned the final page.

Despite that, this book still blew me away. Disgusting and uncomfortable and disturbing but all the more interesting and poignant for it. I definitely wouldn't recommend it to just anyone, but it was great. 9.5/10.

I pulled away from him and declared, "I am Popinpobopian. And you are too. It's catching. Just like being an Earthling is infectious, and that's how people all become Earthlings. It's the same with our planet. So you're definitely a Popinpobopian by now." I took his cold hand in mine. "Let's escape together."

"Where to?"

"A village near the stars."

Everyone knows I am a certified The Great Gatsby glazer. So going into this novel, while I expected it to be enjoyable (I wouldn't read it otherwise!), I definitely didn't expect it to be anywhere near as good as TGG. And even though it wasn't, I was pleasantly surprised that it was better than I expected.

First of all, I'll talk about the part of this novel that I undoubtedly loved the best: its prose! The language used, the writing style, the flow of the sentences. Genuinely perfect. I had such a fun time reading it that sometimes it wasn't even about the story itself or the characters, I was just in awe of the vivid descriptions and vocabulary. Fitzgerald has one of those writing styles that I am terribly envious of. Its poetic without ever being boring or slow or too dense. Unimaginably beautiful.

Of course in the same vein the dialogue is similarly effective. Sometimes witty and brief, banter between two or more characters (I quite liked the chapters where it was written like a screenplay, with mostly just dialogue) but also sometimes monologues. But always interesting.

"I've got a streak of what you'd call cheapness. I don't know where I get it but it's—oh, things like this and bright colors and gaudy vulgarity. I seem to belong here. These people would appreciate me and take me for granted, and these men would fall in love with me and admire me, whereas the clever men I meet would just analyze me and tell me I'm this because of this or that because of that."

—Anthony for a moment wanted fiercely to paint her, to her down now, as she was, as, as with each relentless second she could never be again.

The characters are not likeable at all. Perhaps in some, very few moments, they are relatable. But never likeable. They are awful people who wallow in self-pity and you know from the very beginning that they cannot change and will not change even if it destroys them. But this doesn't subtract from the book. For me at least, the intrigue came from wanting to find out all the ways they could doom themselves. You don't even really feel sorry for them when they are down on their luck, but you're sucked into their lives nonetheless. Like watching a car crash in slow motion.

That being said, I was quite endeared to the dynamic between some different characters, particularly the foursome friend group between Anthony/Gloria/Maury/Dick. They all have such vivid and distinct personalities and I love them all in a twisted way. Though ironically Anthony the protagonist was the one I found to be... not least interesting, but least unique? I suppose? Any way, they worked well in the way that I didn't really care in a sympathetic way about their suffering, but I still enjoyed seeing them interact.

Now, the story itself, which I suppose is in a way joined as one with 'the characters'. This is a very character-driven book, it is a detail of their lives after all, almost to a detriment. It's effective and pretty simple when you look at the big picture: this couple has an addiction to hedonism and self-destruction that makes them as beautiful as they are damned. (Say that again?) It is rather fun to watch the way they descend into poverty and hopelessness. And I love how it ends with them winning, except it isn't really a victory because they don't deserve it and the cycle will just repeat again, the money will run out. Nothing changes. Nothing ever happens. That's the tragedy.

"Dot," he whispered uncomfortably, "you'll forget. Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know—because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot. And when I got it it turned to dust in my hands. ...

I've often thought that if I hadn't got what I wanted things might have been different with me. I might have found something in my mind and enjoyed putting it in circulation. I might have been content with the work of it, and had some sweet vanity out of the success. I suppose that at one time I could have had anything I wanted, within reason, but that was the only thing I ever wanted with any fervor. God! And that taught me you can't have anything, you can't have anything at all. Because desire just cheats you. It's like a sunbeam skipping here and there about a room. It stops and gilds some inconsequential object, and we poor fools try to grasp it—but when we do the sunbeam moves on to something else, and you've got the inconsequential part, but the glitter that made you want it is gone—"

There are dislikes I have with this novel. For one, it feels very monotonous in its storytelling. I wish there were more clear-cut plot beats; as it is it just feels like one big drone of event after event going on and on and on. Almost like a list, or a formal Wikipedia description of their lives. It's just a little bit poorly structured. I'm not describing this well but that's one thing that bothered me, even if the deeply interesting story and characters and amazing prose made up for it. The other thing that I hated was of course the racism. Like I said, this is a common part of classics, but it really is so bad here. I could barely stand to read about any mention of a character of color because even if they were unimportant they would be subject to some horrendous stereotype or portrayal. Puke.

But that aside, I loved the rest of this novel, and as a whole. As I said on Storygraph: it's not as tightly written or as thematically compelling as The Great Gatsby, but it's impressive in its own right. The prose makes it a joy to read, it's especially brilliant if you love main characters who are utter assholes but are deeply human nonetheless (not comically evil), and a great window into the society of the Jazz Age.

Honestly, I'm having a lot of trouble rating this... even though there are so many little flaws and gripes I had, I feel like I had such a lovely time reading it. I'll go with 8/10.

... I can almost look down the tracks and see you going but without you, dearest, dearest, I can't see or hear or feel or think. Being apart—whatever has happened or will happen to us—is like begging for mercy from a storm, Anthony; it's like growing old. I want to kiss you so—in the back of your neck where your old black hair starts. Because I love you and whatever we do or say to each other, or have done, or have said, you've got to feel how much I do, how inanimate I am when you're gone. I can't even hate the damnable presence of people, those people in the station who haven't any right to live—I can't resent them even though they're dirtying up our world, because I'm engrossed in wanting you so.

If you hated me, if you were covered with sores like a leper, if you ran away with another woman or starved me or beat me—how absurd this sounds—

I'd still want you, I'd still love you. I KNOW, my darling.

Current Mood: satisfied

Another short story collection, I really need to stop accidentally picking these up, though it is my fault in the end. But I don't regret it because I will always enjoy an Agatha Christie; even though I don't think any of her books I've read are knock-outs, they're always baseline well-written and fun.

This collection isn't any different.

the Regatta Mystery: The book's namesake and sadly my least favourite story. Sorry but it is not a good start, it had me disappointed before I realised the other stories were better. First of all the mystery itself is kind of trite, uninteresting, and not all that clever. The twist that solved it was just whatever and didn't feel like it meant anything. I was bored and unimpressed. She's written a lot no wonder she has some stinkers. 4/10.

the Mystery of the Baghdad Chest: Thankfully it gets better here on out. I liked the interpersonal drama of this one, very classic men-fighting-over-women premise, and the murder itself also felt a little old-fashioned in a good way. I will say the twist/culprit was a little out of nowhere, but sometimes that's just how mysteries are. 6/10.

How Does Your Garden Grow?: I can't put a finger on why but I really liked this one! Starting from the end, that last part was wow, hit me like a truck. I don't think Christie's writing is very prose-y on impressive on a sentence level but this part was awesome. Moreover I liked the characters and story in this one. I think it really showcased Poirot's kind, paternal side to take the side of the girl and be kind to her when no one else did (even if it was just because he was sure that she was innocent). 8/10.

...But there it is; they're her only near relations, and her death brings them a tidy sum of money, I've no doubt. We all know what human nature is!

Sometimes inhuman—yes, that is very true.

Problem at Pollensa Bay: A contrast from the last because this one is undoubtedly the most lighthearted story of the set, but I liked it just as much. This endeared me a lot more to Pyne than the first story, I love his attitude and his initial exhaustion from work but still getting himself involved anyway lol. I did suspect what the final twist would be since it was kind of obvious but that didn't make it any less funny and satisfying when it was revealed. Crazy to know that boymoms have existed since the dawn of time. 8/10.

Yellow Iris: I really liked the strong concept of this story, especially with how the main goal of Poirot this time is not to solve a murder but to prevent one. And I did not see the end coming this time, in a good way! Honestly not much to say except that I liked it, very competently told, fun characters. 7/10.

Miss Marple Tells a Story: This one is just okay. Frankly the story and mystery weren't that memorable—I did like how it uses the way most people (myself included) tend to ignore "staff" and "servants", as a story beat... but of course the story is much too short to explore that theme really deeply or even establish it well. So like, whatever. I didn't hate reading it though. 6/10.

the Dream: Wow I really liked the mystery and murder of this one! I know some people found it too convoluted but honestly it was perfect in my taste. The 'dream' element was really fascinating. I was fond of the characters even the ones that turned out to be culprits. 7/10.

In a Glass Darkly: This one is controversial and I uh... really see why. Yeah it's kind of a bad one. Not only is the story itself not great, the telling of it is profoundly uninteresting. The way in which it approaches domestic abuse and violence is also a let-down. It's a product of its time and for that it gets a 4/10.

Problem at Sea: Returning back to a strong one. Similar to Appointment with Death I like that this one has a victim where everybody goes "Man she kind of had it coming". Though she's not even half as bad as AwD's victim... anyway, this one also had fun characters and drama. The mystery itself was okay but I just thoroughly enjoyed the narrative. 8/10.

He saw the tears rise in her eyes. She said: "You've known. You've known all along... That I cared... But he didn't do it for me... It was those girls—youth—it made him feel his slavery. He wanted to be free before it was too late..."

As a whole, I think this collection really exemplifies how Christie can introduce characters and a mystery, and wrap them up in a satisfying way. Like I said before, none of them blew my mind, but they were all generally enjoyable to read! There were definitely moments when the book's time period shone through in its racist descriptions of POC (Yellow Iris specifically is bad with this) but those are the trials and tribulations of reading classics unfortunately.

Phew, this is long. That's what I get for reviewing every story individually! This book gets a strong 7.5/10.

Hercule Poirot said slowly, "I think, madame, that you have cared in your life for two things only. One is your husband."

He saw her lips tremble.

"And the other—is your garden."

He looked round him. His glance seemed to apologize to the flowers for that which he had done and was about to do.

Okay. Everything is fine. I'm going to talk about American Psycho.

It was hilarious, to start off. From the way people talk about it—well, people don't talk about it like it's a comedy. But it is one. I mean obviously the movie could be funny too but this was in some ways more humorous. Because even aside from being evil (and boy is he evil), Bateman is weird. He is so fucking strange. Actually everyone in this book is a nutcase but obviously since we're in Bateman's head we see his quirks the most and it's awesome. I guess you could say it's not really presented like a comedy, but the things that are happening and the general atmosphere of the whole book are so ridiculous you can't help but laugh.

Of course, that's the intention. It's very clearly a satire of the privileged, the culture surrounding these yuppies (not that I know anything about them... again, gen-Z, not American, we've been through this). Entwined with the exaggeration is this really uncomfortable sense of reality of the time this book is set in and I liked that, too.

I know everyone hates the brand names, the heavy presence that they have in the story, just lists upon lists of clothing and brands and names and whatnot. But I'll say the same thing about it here that I did with the Shards: I liked it. I found them entertaining and I really do not think the book would be the same without it. Like did I pay attention to them? Of course not. But it very much lends itself to the vibe of the book as a whole and I don't think it would be the same without it, even if individually they don't matter that much.

Everything failed to subdue me. Soon everything seemed dull: another sunrise, the lives of heroes, falling in love, war, and discoveries people made about each other. The only thing that didn't bore me, obviously enough, was how much money Tim Price made, and yet in its obviousness it did. There wasn't a clear, identifiable emotion within me, except for greed and, possibly, total disgust. I had all the characteristics of a human being—flesh, blood, skin, hair—but my depersonalization was so intense, had gone so deep, that my normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated, the victim of a slow, purposeful erasure. I was simply imitating reality, a rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning. Something horrible was happening and yet I couldn't figure out why—I couldn't put my finger on it. The only thing that calmed me was the satisfying sound of ice being dropped into a glass of J&B.

All the characters are caricatures but it really works. At first I was stressed a little by their interactions but the more you get into the book the more you realise nothing will ever have consequences, nothing will ever change. No matter what he does. I think it's a pretty good portrayal of how Bateman feels, and the lifestyle he leads that is so utterly shallow and same-y.

Speaking of shallowness, it really was written clearly in Bateman and how it intertwined with his evil... I like his monologues about losing his sense of humanity (which were pathetic in their own way) but I think they are only so starkly effective because he is so fake and phony about everything on the outside. The man does not genuinely love anything except killing and even then he sometimes gets bored with it. I also like the choice not to reveal much of his backstory or what happened in his life leading up to now; it's almost as if it's totally irrelevant, the whole of his life is what it is now.

The violence was not so bad. I expected it to be way worse from the way everyone was talking about it, but it was really just more graphic and creative than usual. It was gross but I did enjoy them, the author must be a real sick freak to think of shit like that. That is not an insult or a compliment it is a statement.

Things I didn't like about the book were... well, it's definitely not for everybody. A book like this could never be written today and that's probably a good thing. It's gratuitously violent and offensive even as you consider that it's making a point about its protagonist. Yet despite that there were also times where it got boring. Never the interactions with other characters or the murder scenes, but the music reviews, the chapters where nothing happened and it was just the monotony of his life—sure, it's a great way to convey that he's also bored, but that doesn't make it less of a pain.

Regardless, it's still great and I enjoyed it. It doesn't really have a plot at least not in a classical sense, it's just a peek into Bateman's life and how depraved it is. His narration is perfect for the character, nearly everything is entertaining and hilarious as fuck, it's effective in what it has to say about the culture of masculinity and wealth.

That being said, I will say that I think the movie probably does a better job of delivering on the themes. It feels a lot tighter and clearer and it was directed by a woman, so.

Vox icon because Vox is Bateman-coded. Overall, let's say... 9/10. It's amazing and funny and I hope nothing like it is ever written again.

Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have, countless times, in just about every act I've committed—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing...

Guh. This month was exhausting.

! = Priority

CR:

The Regatta Mystery and other stories — Agatha Christie
The Beautiful and Damned — F. Scott Fitzgerald

TBR:

These Violent Delights — Micah Nemerever (!)
Open Throat — Henry Hoke
Notes from Underground — Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Brothers Karamazov — Fyodor Dostoevsky
Hamlet — Shakespeare
Less Than Zero — Bret Easton Ellis
The Waves — Virginia Woolf
Confessions of a Mask — Yukio Mishima

AR:

The Picture of Dorian Gray — Oscar Wilde
American Psycho — Bret Easton Ellis

Brother I did not read a lot this month. But I'm actually not going to be mad at myself for that because like I said in the beginning of this log, January was hell for me. Exams. Busy. Don't even want to think about it to be quite honest.

I'm going through Christie's collection right now which is fine. I suspect that since things have calmed down I might read more in February, so that's nice. But for now, whatever. At least the two books I read were both really good reads.

Current Mood: blah

So, I finished this a while ago. It's definitely another type of book where I felt a little lukewarm while reading it, but got hit by a strong wave of how much I loved it when I finished the story and reflected on it. What a thrilling, impressive novel! I understand why so many people love it now.

From the first moment we have with him I immediately loved Basil. Sue me, everyone does, it's basic, but how could you read this book—even just its opening scene—and not love Basil? I do so love tortured-artist type characters. It fascinates me that Basil is someone who is incredibly devoted to his artwork but still functions in high society to a degree, especially with someone like Lord Henry as a friend. Usually an artist like him would be depicted as some sort of social outcast, but that's not really so here, even though there is a notable difference between his place and the place of Henry and Dorian.

He is all my art to me now. ... I sometimes think, Harry, that there are only two eras of any importance in the world's history. The first is the appearance of a new medium for art, and the second is the appearance of a new personality for art also. What the invention of oil-painting was to the Venetians, the face of Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, and the face of Dorian Gray will someday be to me.

Lord Henry is a polarizing character and I see why, but God if he isn't funny. That's not to say I liked him, but he didn't bore me at all, he was always such an effective shit-stirrer and it was fun to watch him encourage, even drive Dorian's descent into madness.

And Dorian, sweet terrible awful Dorian. He was such a good protagonist. His fear and his desperation to cling to his own aesthete, his sense of beauty, were so palpable; the tension is written in such a way that you can really feel it and grasp what he is experiencing as well. I love how he gets corrupted, I love how much he changes from the naive youth to the hedonistic asshole. There's also something endearing in how unrelentingly arrogant and in love with himself he is, even from the very beginning. It sets the scene really quite well.

I love the dynamic between Henry as the corruptor and Basil as the, I suppose, angel on the shoulder. I do wish there were more scenes with Basil! Of course the whole point is that Henry "wins", that he has far more influence on Dorian, but I think I would've enjoyed a little more push-and-pull.

'Good God, Dorian, what a lesson! What an awful lesson!' There was no answer, but he could hear the young man sobbing at the window. 'Pray, Dorian, pray,' he murmured. 'What is it that one was taught to say in one's boyhood? Lead us not into temptation. Forgive us our sins. Wash away our iniquities. Let us say that together. The prayer of your pride has been answered. The prayer of your repentance will be answered also. I worshipped you too much. I am punished for it. You worshipped yourself too much. We are both punished.'

It did surprise me to see everyone painting (heh, painting) Basil as a totally innocent character, however. What I understood is that Basil doesn't really see Dorian as a person, either, much the same as Henry, just from opposite directions. Despite his good intentions he clearly sees Dorian as an object to be admired, a piece of art. He was in love with Dorian no doubt about it but he was far from treating him perfectly, and honestly I wonder if things would have been different if Basil had been more of a present friend, an equal, rather than the fucked-up God-and-worshipper thing they had going on.

In this sense I feel kind of bad for Dorian, who's had such a terribly unhealthy life. I feel even more pity for Basil though, as well as Sybil and James Vane (I really was rooting for him to kill Dorian, haha).

The dialogue all throughout was great. Sometimes romantic, sometimes intriguing, sometimes horrifying, sometimes funny. And the prose in the descriptions—incredibly decadent and vivid, which is fitting for this novel. Every theme was communicated and told so beautifully and clearly, easy to grasp even for me, who's kind of an idiot xD. The separation between upper class society and the "bottom" associated with drugs and violence, and how both of them are agents of Dorian's corruption, how every character in some sense prioritizes art and beauty over dignity and morality... just good stuff!

Of course, not a perfect book, I will say I had some gripes. Mainly, the middle did drag a little. I loved the beginning scenes introducing us to the characters, and it sped up and got really interesting when Dorian killed Basil, but I was kind of just coasting through it in between those. The chapter where Dorian describes the novel Henry gave him was so boring and pointless to me I almost got angry. I'm sure it means something but personally... Christ. Then the ending, while certainly more engaging, felt a little abrupt and rushed. And like I said, I wish there were more Basil moments.

Now the edition of this at the library did come with a lot of notes, and an introduction that compared the censored and uncensored versions, which I appreciated! Ultimately I like both, even if it's a shame that the homosexual themes had to be erased at the time.

Overall, good read! I enjoyed it. The characters and the dynamics between them were more interesting than anything else, what an amazing little love triangle from hell. Let's say... 9/10!

Once, someone who had terribly loved him, had written to him a mad letter, ending with these idolatrous words: 'The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.' The phrases came back to his memory, and he repeated them over and over to himself. Then he loathed his own beauty, and flinging the mirror on the floor crushed it into silver splinters beneath his heel. It was his beauty that had ruined him, his beauty and the youth that he had prayed for. But for those two things, his life might have been free from stain. His beauty had been to him but a mask, his youth but a mockery. What was youth at best? A green, an unripe time, a time of shallow moods, and sickly thoughts. Why had he worn its livery? Youth had spoiled him.

Okay, finally getting around to doing this. I meant to but I always kept putting it off... I've just been falling off DW lately but I'm going to try to get back on.

First off I do want to say I'm impressed by the translation. Obviously I can't speak on how well it translated because I can't understand the original Japanese but if this is truly how beautiful Akutagawa's original writing was then I think Rubin did a good job at capturing it. Especially considering Japanese is a notoriously difficult language to translate into English.

I loved these stories! Wow. They were so interesting and they always hooked me from the beginning. It just flows in a way that makes you want to keep reading and reading, and it's easy to read while still being so vivid and detailed. I can't even properly explain it, he has such a lovely writing style... it's simultaneously mystical and fairytale-esque while still being grounded and real. That sounds so contradictory but it's true and I have no other words for it. A bit reminiscent of a children's tale, perhaps, but if it were more horrific and fucked-up.

I don't think she was wrong to do it. She did it to keep from starving to death. She couldn't help it. And I don't think what I'm doing is wrong, either. It's the same thing: I can't help it. If I don't do it, I'll starve to death. This woman knew what it was to do what you have to do. I think she'd understand what I'm doing to her.

The themes that he explores are very evocative too, I think a lot of them resonated with me. Rashomon with its interplay of survival and morality, In a Bamboo Grove and its take on perspective, The Story of a Head that Fell Off and the state of mind during war and death, Green Onions with its conflict between art and reality. They all just felt so fascinating and fresh.

There were also a bunch of stories that were more autobiographical. On the whole I liked these a bit less than the other ones, but I still enjoyed them! I particularly was fond of Akutagawa's self-insert Shinsuke and what seemed to be the telling of his childhood and feelings, especially his connection to books and literature. His mommy issues were also felt very keenly here. I loved it.

My favourites were probably... well, it's hard to pick favourites when so many of them were great but I was totally entranced by Hell Screen, Loyalty, The Story of a Head that Fell Off, Green Onions, and Daidoji Shinsuke: the Early Years. All very different, but which I totally loved equally.

Hell Screen was delightfully creepy and awful with a great unreliable narrator, it was as haunting as I thought it would be (though I honestly thought Yoshihide would be an eviller person than he was). Loyalty was a very effective tragedy about a guy, simply put, going bananas; I wonder if Akutagawa used it as a reflection of his own mental struggles? Though many of his stories are about unstable characters so maybe that's a stretch. TSoaHtFO was very reflective and I like that it lets you grapple with what its supposed moral would be, on trust and the nature of change and a person's will and promises. With Green Onions I'm not even sure exactly why I like it so much, but I felt endeared to the protagonist and thought the ending was rather funny while still being meaningful. And Daidoji Shinsuke, as I said before, I think it was fun to get into the author's mind and see his struggle with his own emotions and coming-of-age.

Doppo said he was in love with love. I am trying to hate hatred. I am trying to hate my hatred for poverty, for falsehood, for everything.

Adversely, my least favourite was probably Spinning Gears. I saw a lot of people hyping it up so perhaps I was expecting more, but it mostly just felt like a drag. I didn't hate it but eh, it's just one that I would not reread, meanwhile most of the others feel like they have infinite reread value.

Overall, though, I loved this book so much. With the exception of Spinning Gears, I enjoyed my time with every story. But the way they wrapped up was also perfect so I couldn't say that I was left disappointed or wanting more. It just is great, I couldn't imagine them any other way.

My apologies to Kafka but man I adored this short story collection far more than the last one I read. Honestly I think this gets a 9/10, maybe a 9.5.

All at once the Japanese cavalry troops with their red-striped caps charged in between his eyes and the sky, moving with far greater speed than any of the earlier images, and disappearing just as quickly. Ah yes, those cavalrymen must be feeling a loneliness as great as mine. Had they not been mere apparitions, he would have wanted to comfort them and be comforted by them, to forget this loneliness if only for a moment. But it was too late now.

Xiao-er's eyes overflowed with tears. And when, with those tear-moistened eyes, he looked back on his life, he recognized all too well the ugliness that had filled it. He wanted to apologize to everyone, and he also wanted to forgive everyone for what they had done to him.

If I escape death today, I swear that I will do whatever it takes to make up for my past.

Last day of the year! I only just got back into reading but I'm excited to go into 2026 knowing I have so many books I want to read. Anyway let's look back on December reading and get ready for the next month! o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

! = Priority

CR:

Horror collection - Edgar Allan Poe

TBR:

These Violent Delights — Micah Nemerever (!)
Open Throat — Henry Hoke
The Eyes are the Best Part — Monika Kim
Notes from Underground — Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Brothers Karamazov — Fyodor Dostoevsky
Hamlet — Shakespeare
Less Than Zero — Bret Easton Ellis

AR:

Anna Karenina — Leo Tolstoy
Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom — Sylvia Plath
Bored Gay Werewolf — Tony Santorella
the Metamorphosis and other stories — Franz Kafka
the Shards — Bret Easton Ellis
Letters to Milena — Franz Kafka
Rashomon and seventeen other stories — Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Maybe it's because I've just gotten back into it but I definitely completed quite a lot of reading this month, hopefully I can keep up that persistence or at least some of it. The Shards was definitely my favourite read, Bored Gay Werewolf my least favourite, which is funny because those are the two contemporary ones. I didn't dislike any of them at all though, so, that's a successful run. Good job me you know my tastes so well.

I foresee a very long TBR list in my future, so I'm trying to be as selective as possible. Especially since the library closed and I didn't end up really reading any of the stuff from my TBR. I will definitely stray from my own list at times just depending on what draws my interest LOL

Excited for January! And for the damn library to open again! Will post my thoughts on Akutagawa's collection soon.

Current Mood: satisfied

I finished Letters to Milena last night. Wow! What a book. Honestly it feels wrong to rate it and I wouldn't even know how to, because, well, it's not a story, it's a collection of letters, personal and intimate... but strangely enough I enjoyed these letters more than I enjoyed some of his short stories (with some exceptions, of course).

First thing that struck me is how much I could see myself in Kafka and the things he says to Milena. Like worrying about misinterpreting her, both of them being anxious about their relationship, scolding each other about falling ill. Things I do with my friends. These letters were written a hundred years ago and yet there are some things about friendship and connection that stay permanent, and lots of things were a reminder of that. And the mundanity of some of the letters only adds to that, like when he talks about having trouble sleeping or when talking about a daily life or train logistics.

Kafka was a lot more emotive in these letters than his stories, which is probably another reason I enjoyed reading it. You can very clearly feel all the emotions he felt in his words and messages. And you can also very much tell that this affair was not really a healthy one, it was tumultuous and bad for him (I'd wager it was bad for Milena, too), but it was nevertheless something he was addicted to. It seems that he wanted love, her love, so badly, but he was also scared of it. The lengthy descriptions of his 'fear' and what I assume was his struggle with both physical and mental health were painful, as well.

Of course the thing this book is most known for are its overwhelmingly romantic quotes and in that it does not disappoint at all. There were several times where I read something and I just had to stop a second and think about the love it conveyed. Regardless of whether their relationship was ultimately "good" or "bad" (if such a categorization even exists), you can't doubt at all that he felt very passionately about her.

You see, I have bad luck with beggars, but I hereby declare myself willing to present my entire past and future fortune—in the smallest Viennese banknotes, one by one—to a beggarwoman there in front of the opera, under the condition that you are standing next to me and I may feel you close to me.

There were times where I was a little annoyed with Kafka, but it didn't really detract from my enjoyment. It was fun to reflect on how even great authors we idolize from a century ago could also have flaws and be human in a rather dull way. And I also wish we got to see some of Milena's letters (I know they were destroyed), though there is some charm to only seeing one side.

It was a nice, calm read, very tender. Another book I would recommend to people who are all about yearning. Going off my enjoyment of it I would say it gets a 8.5/10, simply because some of these quotes affected me so deeply. Kafka had such a beautiful way of expressing his own emotions, painful or otherwise.

And it turns out we really do keep writing the same thing. I ask whether you're sick and then you write about it, I want to die and then you do, I want stamps and then you want stamps, sometimes I want to cry on your shoulder like a little boy and then you want to cry on mine like a little girl. And sometimes and ten times and a thousand times and always I want to be with you and you are saying the same thing. Enough, enough.

And there's still no letter about what the doctor said, you slowpoke, you bad letter-writer, you wicked one, you lovely one, you—well, now what? Nothing—to rest in your lap, still.

Okay, this is a bit overdue because as I mentioned in my day log I actually finished this book a few days ago. But it took me a while to start this because every time I thought about it I just didn't know where to start, there was so much, and even now I still don't know. But let me try LOL.

This book was fucking bananas. The narrator, who is Bret Easton Ellis himself, is just so damn interesting. I love his writing style, or perhaps that's just his personality, or maybe it's both, but reading it is so easy because of how fascinating he is. Every time I picked up this book I went into a trance. The writing is kind of cut-and-dry, not really emotional in the typical sense (I've heard this is pretty much Ellis' modus operandi), but somehow it still teemed with character because of how much we were inside Bret's head. It's very intimate, perhaps is the best way to describe it. Even though Bret is such an unreliable narrator it makes you feel like you know every detail of his thoughts.

A wave of lust crested hard in my chest and I suddenly ached for him—the sensation was so immediate and so tidal that I was shocked—and adding this new presence to the anticipation of watching that movie that was finally about to begin forced me to slow down my breathing. The boy aroused something primal in me that I had never felt before—I wanted him immediately, I needed to be his friend, I had to make contact, I had to see him naked, I had to own him.

It wasn't just the characterization though, it was also just the way the writing was on a sentence level. The vocabulary, the flow of the words, the way every sentence was formatted, it all felt so natural when it had to be natural and jarring and exciting when it had to be jarring and exciting. Again, it makes it so easy to read, you just fly through it because of how well it all flows. Maybe it's more of a personal taste thing? But I loved it. I'll even say that it kind of made me crazy jealous because I knew I would never be able to write like that no matter how hard I try.

Back to Bret though, he was a very frustrating and upsetting protagonist at times, but in other times he was also relatable. His vastly different identities—the tortured artist, the writer, versus the tangible participant—is pretty much what the story is about. His paranoia in relation to the killings and Robert Mallory and his paranoia in being discovered as gay are not separate things, they are linked, symbiotic even, and it's painful but also seriously fun to read how this paranoia takes over him and his life.

I didn't let it bother me—I might have fallen in love with him but there was no way for this to happen, to actualize itself in this particular time and place, in the atmosphere at Buckley, in high school, in 1981, so fuck it, go with the counter-narrative. Who cared anyway? It was all bullshit. It felt so cleansing to look at things from this angle. I wanted to be where Susan Reynolds was. And I wanted to write like this as well: numbness as a feeling, numbness as a motivation, numbness as the reason to exist, numbness as ecstasy.

And there is so much atmosphere in this book. Like sooo much it almost suffocates you. I thought I'd read atmospheric books before, it's nothing compared to this. Of course this is due in part to the book's tendency to name every single thing and constantly reference. Songs, artists, brands, street names, by God there are a lot of street names. And I definitely understand why people find this annoying, but at the same time I kind of enjoyed it. Especially as someone who a) is Gen-Z and b) has never been to America before, it was fun to see into this completely unfamiliar world with such intensity. I felt plunged into this book's setting.

Another part of the atmosphere-building were of course the characters and their relationships to each other. They are so terrible and interesting and I love them. Again people say this novel is too long but I don't agree, I think all the scenes, even the "useless" ones, just add more depth and more tension to this fucked-up friend group.

This novel is so good at making every conversation feel like I'm about to get murdered. The characters are almost never talking about what they're talking about; there's always some double-meaning, or something they're trying to say subliminally, skirting around the issue pretending everything is normal. And it rounds out the whole theme of the book, the pretense. The overwhelming fear that crushes Bret at all times makes every conversation feel high-stakes even when on the surface it's about nothing.

'Please, Susan,' I said softly. 'Don't worry. He's gone. Robert's gone. He can't hurt you anymore.'

Susan turned back to me, trembling violently now. I was gripping her hand so tightly she couldn't pull away.

'Is my secret safe with you?' I asked softly. 'Is my secret safe with you?' I whispered again.

I was squeezing her hand with such force that I could feel it begin to snap apart—I kept crushing it while telling her in a soothing voice, 'He's gone, Robert's gone, it's all going to be okay, you're safe,' until I heard something in her hand breaking.

And the horror bits are appropriately horrific. There were moments where I felt genuinely sick and moments where my jaw was just gaping, but at the same time, they're not so overwhelming as to feel gratuitous or unnecessary. (I know this is one of Ellis' least violent books.) I couldn't look away, it pulled me in, I just kept reading and reading and reading even when I was terribly grossed out. I think it adds so much to put you in Bret's head and experience the fear and dread he's experiencing.

The ending is not necessarily open, it's technically wrapped up, but the events of the story itself are so ambiguous. I'll admit, at first, it left me feeling a little empty. There was no one moment where it clicked and I had an epiphany about everything in the novel. If I wrote this post just an hour after finishing I might have rated it a bit lower because the ending didn't feel so neatly tied in a bow like I had expected it to be.

But the more I think about it, the more I love it. I love going back to certain scenes and thinking about how absolutely nuts Bret is being, how paranoid he is, how sometimes he seems so correct but maybe his friends are right, maybe it's just his writerly instincts to embellish situations and see things that aren't there. He is such a well written unreliable narrator because he makes so much sense all the time and I believed him too, but he's also. Insufferable. My misgivings were all erased once I stopped thinking even subconsciously of this novel as a mystery, it's not a mystery, it's not even really about the killings. It's a character study and it's a really good one!

'I tried to help him he killed himself he was my friend I loved him I loved him I tried to save him he attacked two of my friends earlier he jumped he jumped.' I was being lifted up. 'He trapped me in the apartment I thought he was going to kill me.' Paramedics placed me on a stretcher, my face was wiped clean, and an oxygen mask covered my nose and mouth. I was wheeled through the apartment and then was carried down in the elevator. I saw the vaulted ceiling of the lobby as I kept ranting even though no one could hear me through the oxygen mask. 'He killed those girls he killed Debbie he attacked Susan he told me to come he needed me he attacked me he tried to kill me before he jumped I loved him I loved him.' I was pleading to anyone who was listening.

If there's one thing I could complain about in this novel, it's that I wish there had been more Susan. She is such a central character, and Bret is so enamored with her, and yet I felt like I didn't get my fill of her. I know that this is likely on purpose because Susan is the embodiment of the numbness that Bret strives for, she becomes increasingly colder and more distant as if she lives on an entirely different plane, but I really think I would've liked it if she had more scenes. In the present of the story yes, but I also would've liked to see moments between her and Bret pre-1981. You know, just sweet stuff of them together. I feel like it would've made the fate of their relationship in the end hit so much harder. As it is, their connection didn't feel as overwhelmingly present in the story as I would've liked.

That's pretty much my only nitpick. Other than that, I loved the Shards. It was a rollercoaster, it was nauseating, it was funny, it was relatable, it was sad and shocking and horny and weird and fun. Everything I want out of a book really! The themes of obsession, of homophobia and hiding who you are, the inherent performance of being a person. All to set the tableau of two mentally ill guys slashing the shit out of each other. Beautiful.

I hesitate to give books I just read a 10/10 right away; I'll wait until my next reading log to decide for sure what I think. But this is definitely as close as it gets!

...and I had seen so many instances even before Robert Mallory entered our lives: pulling a hand away, an unfinished kiss, the Icehouse song, the bikini in the supermarket—these had been clues emerging within a widening puzzle. The sadness I felt was tied to Thom's impending pain and it was something I didn't want to process: Thom didn't deserve this. But then, I thought, as the fear started overriding my sadness: who deserved anything? We get what we get.

I finished reading Kafka's collection last night. None of them measured up to the Metamorphosis—no wonder it's his most famous work—but I still enjoyed all of them greatly, some more than others. Since they're all short stories and poem collections, I'll just do them all in one post. (Especially before I get too sucked into Bret Easton Ellis' The Shards and ostensibly forget about every other piece of literature I've ever read.)

Contemplation: I felt a little frustrated at first because this collection lacks pretty much any kind of story or narrative. Once I began looking at it as just poems I liked them a lot more. It's a nice way to appreciate Kafka's writing style; they feel imaginative and observant, as if you're presented with a world as it is. I especially like 'The Businessman' and 'Being Unhappy'. That being said, I really do prefer his stories over his poems. 7/10.

the Judgment: This one is such an interesting look at a father-son dynamic and only gets more crazy to think about in regards to Kafka's own relationship with his father. While a lot of his works are in some sense very autobiographical this one feels the most direct, the most intrusive. There are probably other things about this book that people more intelligent than me can derive, like its concept of judgment, but definitely what I liked most was just the window into a complicated parental relationship. It feels very real that a son who takes care of his father and seems like a perfectly good man is endlessly criticized by said father, and in the end submits himself to that 'judgment'. 7.5/10.

the Stoker: I feel... as if I'm not allowed to rate this yet. It's just one chapter of the unfinished novel Amerika, sadly not in the book but which I definitely plan on reading because I did like this one as well. The titular stoker is a very Kafkaesque character, downtrodden, mistreated, ignored by everybody, even if Karl is the protagonist. And the characters were fun. Again I did like this but I don't want to say anything about it definitely before I read Amerika.

In the Penal Colony: I loved this one, my second favourite work in the whole book. It's so gruesome but it doesn't feel scary (and Kafka is well capable of writing horror), it just feels very fascinating and almost dreamy. I know most people interpret this one religiously but I appreciate the dichotomy of tradition/modernity in itself and I think it's one of those things that will always feel relevant. The character of the officer seems to me almost romantic, the epitome of the old world loyalist, surrendering himself to his own worshipped style of execution when he failed to convince the dignitary just as a soldier kills himself when he knows a war has been lost (even if he didn't get to have it in the end). I don't know, but it just really resonated with me. Also the subplot of the condemned man and the soldier becoming friends was funny as hell. 9/10!

"How we watched the transfiguration in the tormented faces, how we held our cheeks in the glow of this arduously achieved and already passing justice! I tell you, comrade, those were times!"

A Country Doctor (collection): A little similar to Contemplation in nature, though certainly with a more understandable flow of events, veering more toward 'story' territory than poems. Though some of them are equally as nonsensical and bizarre. There were some I didn't care for but some I found really interesting, and I think it would be different for everybody.

The story the collection derives its title from, A Country Doctor, made no sense to me at all. I had to search it up to see what other people thought (something I hate doing before I've come to an opinion myself). But I was glad to see everyone else is as confused as I am xD. I think there's a lot to be said about doctors and expectations, I suppose. But mostly I just think the vibe of the story is so haunting. This is definitely the one that creeped me out the most.

Other stories I liked from here are 'An Old Journal' and 'Before the Law'. Overall, 7.5/10.

A Hunger Artist (collection): All of the ones in here are good, but my definite favourite was the story A Hunger Artist itself. Another one of Kafka's more famous works and I understand why. It's very revealing how he thought of himself and what he saw as his dying art—literature—and perhaps how he devoted himself to it to the point of ascetism and religion almost. Josefine is also about an artist's relationship to art and audience but I found it less compelling.

First Sorrow may also seem to be about artist and art, though a rather unconventional one (a trapeze artist). I wonder if it's about the changing whims of artists and how much they seem to fear mundanity, or strive for originality, another higher level of their craft. Or maybe I'm reaching. Never know with these to be honest.

Again, I liked all of them. Like I said, I love the stories more than his shorter stuff, so this gets an 8/10 from me.

There were three other stories in the appendix. Two of them were okay (Great Noise and The Coal-Scuttle Rider) but the other is the one work I straight-up disliked (Aeroplanes in Brescia). I could not bring myself to like it. Even the dreamy characteristic writing style of Kafka does not come through in that one, it's painfully literal which is not something I enjoyed at all. I think my eyes glazed over reading it.

Other than that! I had a great time reading this collection. I do think the experience is a hundred times enriched if you go through the trouble of learning a bit about Kafka and his personal life, since so many of these stories seem more intimate that way. But the uniqueness and creativity are distinct in both writing style and in the stories and character themselves; it left me with the strong feeling of Oh, I understand now why people call things 'Kafkaesque'. It's just such a... peculiar type of vibe. I really liked it.

I'll be honest, when it comes to reading, I usually appreciate a directness and logic. So these works, in all their bizarreness, were a little challenging for me, but not in a bad way. They really forced me to slow down and think, and God knows I probably don't do that enough.

Overall, a good 7.5/10.

"'Am I supposed to be happy with that as an apology? I suppose it's all I'm going to get. I always have to take what I'm given. I came into the world with a lovely wound; that was my entire outfitting.'

I read this story a long time ago, I reckon when my brain had hardly been formed. Ten years old? Eleven? I retained the general plot, but forgot all about the rest. So when I failed to find Hamlet at the bookstore, I thought I'd pick up a Kafka collection and experience this for the first time again.

What I wasn't ready for is how extremely, heartachingly sad this story is. There were so many parts where I got close to crying, and so many parts where I actually did shed a few tears. The third person narration of Gregor rends your heart apart. His love for his family radiates through every single word and to see it met with callousness, cruelty, and fear is awful. This is an awful awful book in the best way possible.

"'Help, oh please God, help me!', inclined her head as though for a better view of Gregor, but then, quite at variance with that, ran senselessly away from him; she forgot the breakfast table was behind her, on reaching it, she hurriedly, in her distractedness, sat down on it, seeming oblivious to the fact that coffee was gushing all over the carpet from the large upset coffee pot.

"'Mother, mother,' Gregor said softly, looking up at her."

It's through this sadness that we properly glean what the story is unsubtly trying to say about capitalism. In his family where he is the sole provider and the rest of his family is content to take from him (and which he is content to provide because he loves them so much), Gregor is only seen as their means of survival, their cash cow. He worked day in and day out, a corporate slave while his healthy father and mother did nothing. And the very first time he was late to work, all they cared about was getting him there, because to them that was all he was and all he lived to do. Which is also a view shared by Gregor himself, no doubt shaped by the world they lived in. He turned into a literal insect (I know the original simply used the word 'vermin', but my copy straight up translates it as 'cockroach') and his first thought was "How am I going to get to work?" How visceral and terrible.

There are just so many things about this. The way his sister initially wanted to take away his furniture because she saw he enjoyed crawling over the walls; but as time passed and she started caring less and less, she was fine with everyone shoving unwanted furniture and junk into his room. Every act of kindness from her is bittersweet in the way that she is trying to care, but she can't even bring herself to look at him or come close to him, her brother, her brother who had loved her so much he was going to pay to send her to the conservatory. Because he was the only one who cared about her music passion. Her parents don't, the later tenants don't, but after so long in isolation Gregor came out just to hear her play. Grete is not hateable like her parents or the other characters, especially considering she's a child, but she too lapses into hating Gregor by the end. Their relationship stabbed me all throughout this book.

Not to mention his father, throwing apples at him, and one of it literally embedding itself into his flesh. He can't move around freely or crawl anymore, one of his few pleasures taken away from him. And later on his father gets angry at his lumbering movements when it was his violence that had caused it in the first place. He laments saying that Gregor can't understand them, even though he very much can, and it's the family that never attempted to understand him.

All this embeds itself in Gregor just like the apple. The descriptions of his self-hatred were so real. He had done no crime, had never intended to hurt anyone, and yet everyone including himself hated him like he had. When his father was a useless financial burden, the rest of the family was quick to love him and be affectionate over him. But when it was Gregor's turn to be taken care of unconditionally, he was turned away, and he thinks it's his fault for the sin of existing.

And the end where he dies and his family practically rejoices, moves away, starts a new life that's better and warmer, as if the universe itself is celebrating Gregor's death. They're so much happier without him, and it's horrible. I genuinely had a pit in my stomach by the end of this story. You just don't stop feeling for Gregor. He worked and when he stopped working, he was unloved and died.

The writing style is great. Easy to understand, but no less detailed for it. Some of the descriptions of Gregor's new body were very vivid. It's dry, which fits Gregor's characterization as a man who had dedicated his life to working and providing. But despite its unfeeling style of prose, you can feel the emotion very clearly. Just like how Gregor, despite now being mostly unable to show it in a way his family can understand, still felt very strongly. He was in a cockroach's body, but his human emotions are overwhelming in the narrative.

This is short, around 60 pages. But in those 60 pages this story makes you feel for and understand Gregor, the dynamics of his family, and how capitalism indelibly ruins our lives and our human connections. 9.5/10, maybe just straight-up a 10.

"And yet his sister was playing so beautifully. Her face was inclined to the side, and sadly and searchingly her eyes followed the columns of notes. Gregor crept a little closer and held his head close to the ground, so as to be prepared to meet her gaze. Could he be an animal, to be so moved by music?"

This is the book I've been hankering after for a few days now. Partly because it seemed to me very Frankcore, yes, I will admit... but also partly because I just love werewolves and shapeshifting, especially as allegories for queerness. So I picked it up and blasted through it in a few hours and I enjoyed it! But I'm also a bit disappointed.

First of all, the themes are not subtle. Toxic masculinity, the importance of emotional vulnerability, the sense of not belonging, upper class pyramid schemes under the guise of mental health and alpha-isms. This book knows what it's about (which I love) and spells it out for you (which I don't love as much). I enjoyed sometimes how on-the-nose it could be, but sometimes it felt as if the story thought I was stupid. I wish it made me actually think a little more instead of just saying it straight-up. But if we're putting that aside, the strong clear-cut message works mostly in the book's favour. It never gets muddled up, it never veers off-track.

The writing style is a delightful fit for the vibe of the book. It's very witty, fast-paced, even a little immature at times in a good way. And funny! Some jokes really got me to laugh out loud. At the same time though, when it gets serious, it does it well. All the heavy moments really hit you even when the other parts are silly. It also feels very raw, and blunt, not mincing words at all. Like I said before, sometimes the directness annoyed me... but other times it felt absolutely perfect. I think it's that subtle difference between the cool atmospheric "beating me with a sledgehammer" and the frustrating "spoonfeeding me everything in the story".

The characters were interesting, especially the main character Brian. He and I have mostly nothing in common on paper but of course there are things about him that are painfully relatable. Having no sense of direction, wanting so badly to belong. His estrangement from his parents felt very real. Nik and Darby were cool, not the fullest characters ever but they were likeable and served their roles in the story well. Tyler was an absolute caricature, but that's not a negative. It fits because he's fallen for his own grift, and now it's his entire identity. He is nothing and no one outside of it. I also liked the decision to kill Mark off despite him being seemingly more sympathetic than Tyler, and how he finds it much harder than Brian to let go. Because he's been falling for it his whole life, because he's just weak and different (read: gay) enough to hold resentment for Tyler, but he has nowhere else to go and nothing else to believe in. Honestly, what an on-point representation of the little two-man cult that is their abusive bromance. That Tyler/Mark/Brian toxic yaoi triangle was so damn good.

On that note, the portrayals of toxic masculinity were pretty chilling. That's ultimately what the book is about and I hated every moment of it (in a good way). In the end Brian finds happiness in being open and "weak" with his friends instead of posturing with disgusting straight(ish) men, and it's cheesy, but it works.

There is one scene that I hate though, mostly as a personal thing. When Brian comes out to Nik and Darby about his lycanthropy and they go "Haha we know!". Oh my god. One of the tropes I absolutely hate the most, no matter if it's coming out as gay or as a werewolf or whatever. I can't even describe why I despise it, but the entire chapter I was wrinkling my nose in disgust. I would love this book 100% more if it had just gone through the simple matter of making Nik and Darby react, to be surprised by the fact that their best friend is a murderous monster and love him anyway, instead of pulling that cheap trick.

Anyway, I've seen some reviewers compare this to Fight Club, which is accurate. Fight Club mixed with a hefty dose of Mean Girls. That being said, I wish the story had went harder on this. There are woefully few scenes of their little fight club, and when it's there it mostly glosses over the violence. This is related to a deeper issue I have with the book which is that I wish it wasn't afraid to go a little grittier. It isn't a rating problem, as there are two sex scenes. And yet the violence in this book seems so muted. Maybe it's just my gore-loving self, but why shy away? Werewolves and violence are two things that are fundamentally inseparable, but as it is the supernatural part seems more like set dressing. It feels scared to go into bloody territory, when bloody territory should be a werewolf's bread and butter.

I guess my most major complaint about it was that it just didn't feel crazy enough. Was it fun and campy and awesome? Yes. Was it as insane and wacky and gorey as I expected from a book titled "Bored Gay Werewolf" with a cover in neon colours? No. The concept is amazing, everything is there to make it perfect for me, but the execution falls just a little short. I think I would love it a lot more if I hadn't been looking forward to it for a while.

That being said, it's still a fun read. It's easy to get through but doesn't lack in intelligent and relevant themes which it delivers clearly through a clever and funny character voice. I give it a 7.5/10!

"One of the men in the restaurant says something and everyone else at the table laughs. That used to be me, Brian thinks. He knows he'd never be welcome, but he wonders if he just stands there long enough whether he could gain some of that warmth, enough to light a candle. If he did, and he kept it close to his chest, his free hand cradling the flame, could it last through the night or would it go out just as he turns the corner to his apartment?"

Current Music: Shakira - She Wolf

My first foray into Sylvia Plath! I've heard good things about The Bell Jar (though I never particularly felt the desire to read it myself), so when I saw her name at the library and that pretty red and blue cover I thought I'd try this story out.

And I'm grateful I did! It was a great story, and wonderfully concise especially after the behemoth that was Anna Karenina. Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom perfectly builds characters, creates an atmosphere, and conveys a plot all in the span of 40 pages.

Train stories are always a pleasure, and this one builds the vibe of it so well, even if in this case the train isn't just a setting but also an essential and core element of the story. The whole story reads like a dream, very surreal and absurd but no less gripping for it.

Initially I thought the ninth kingdom was a metaphor for death in general. But as I continued reading and neared the ending the picture that formed in my head was that the train and its ticket were suicide, that all of its passengers had killed themselves; and that the ninth kingdom was hell. The world that Mary emerges into at the end isn't the living world but rather heaven, or just another more ideal plane of existence, having successfully escaped the damnation of hell.

The train could also be, inversely, life. Considering it's Mary's parents who set her on the trip to the ninth kingdom to begin with, one could say it's more about deciding your own path in life... that instead of going to someone else's desired destination, Mary chooses for herself to escape, and she comes out of it on the other side happier.

Of course the book is very much up to interpretation though. It trusts its reader to make something out of it, which is something I enjoy. The writing style is lovely, so descriptive and atmospheric. The part leading up to Mary's escape, and her back-and-forth with the old lady, was very tense and well-written. Fast-paced as it is, it feels well built up to and appropriately exciting.

I do wish it was a bit more in-depth. If it had 10 or so more pages, I would've loved to read what Plath could've cooked up, perhaps more details that would lend itself to the picture in her head. Because while I did compliment its vagueness and how open to interpretation it was, I would have appreciated just a little more to chew on.

Regardless, what a brilliant story that gets an 8.5/10 from me.

I finished Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy today. What a ride... it feels strange to finally put a rest to the novel I've been painstakingly working through since March. I have a lot of thoughts.

Firstly, Anna and Vronsky; I don't care too much for them as a couple, to be honest. Or to be more accurate I never really saw them as a happy couple or ever rooted for them to be happily together. I really like Anna as her own character, Vronsky not so much, but together as lovers I struggle to see their chemistry and I never really delighted in their moments together. The fact that they love each other feels more told than it is shown. I have no idea whether this was the intention or not.

This in contrast to Kitty and Levin, who I liked very much. I think they're very sweet together. I love Kitty and how cheerful and enthusiastic she is. I especially enjoyed the middle chapters about her youth pre-marriage to Levin, she is just such a likeable character to follow and even from the beginning I felt very fond of her. I like Levin as well, partially maybe because I relate so much to him... I like that he's socially awkward, that he gets jealous easily, that he can at once be very knowledgeable but also clueless. I have to admit whenever the POV switched to Kitty or Levin, I internally cheered.

"Levin had by this time become accustomed to express his thoughts boldly, without troubling to put them into precise phraseology; he knew that at such loving moments as the present his wife would understand what he meant from a mere hint, and she did understand him."

I loved the scene where Levin visits his brother Nicholas as he dies, as morbid as it sounds. I like how much it shows off Kitty's strength, that she is the level-headed and active one in comparison to Levin. And I find it deeply relatable how Levin was always, of course, on some level aware of the concept of death, but it is through this death of someone close to him that he suddenly becomes truly awakened to what it is and that it exists.

That's not to say I didn't enjoy the Anna/Vronsky bits at all. All I wish is that I felt a little something more for them. But I still liked reading their chapters, especially toward the end as their relationship crumbled apart. (It's during these later chapters that I dislike Vronsky more and more, even if I do get that's the point).

One part that will especially stick with me is the scene where Anna is going to the station and she looks at the world around her and can only regard it with hate. When all the pain she's suffered has clouded her vision and she can no longer see any good in anything. Even where you might expect it, she finds a way to twist it into something ugly. It feels so human and real. And the last moment before her suicide where she sees the joy in the world once more, but it still doesn't stop her from killing herself, really strikes me. Again at the risk of sounding morbid, what an amazingly written death scene.

This book came with notes, ones that compared Levin and Vronsky, no doubt because they're both the "males" of the two main couples. But in my opinion, it feels more appropriate to compare Anna and Levin. Because they are the two main protagonists who we spend the most time with, yes, but also because the paralleling arcs feel to me centred around their inner world. Anna's search for passionate love, which ends in tragedy, against Levin's simple way of living and the hopeful note it ends on despite his numerous existential crises (though perhaps it would be more accurate to say this book is one singular long existential crisis for Levin). Regardless of whether it's luck or fate, Levin finds an answer to the question he asks, even if it's not an absolute one. Anna does not, or maybe she does but she cannot bring herself to live with it.

And I know some people say that Levin is the true protagonist, but I don't think that's true either... he seems more in-depth because he was in part Tolstoy's self-insert and thus a lot of his thoughts are the author's own, but I think they complete each other, much the way their stories do. Without one, the other one's symbolic autobiography is incomplete.

Other characters and aspects I liked were Dolly and Karenin. I thoroughly enjoyed Dolly's perspective whenever it switched to her, especially her views on motherhood and her own war with herself, admiring Anna for acting on her heart's desires, something Dolly could not do. I think it's a really realistic depiction of these two noblewomen stuck in an oppressive society. Karenin's chapters were sometimes more boring I admit, but I do enjoy that Tolstoy also made him a sympathetic character. The tone of his narrative was robotic and unfeeling and it really fit Karenin's own personality.

When it comes to writing style, I like how realistic it feels. This may just be the general state of Russian literature at the time, but it feels distinct from Dostoevsky... I can't put my finger on it, but it's there. It tells us through excruciating detail every single feeling and thought a character has. It makes you feel like you know the characters so intimately. Of course this does result in lots of meandering, chapters upon chapters focused on just one happening, and I don't blame anyone who may find it a bit of a slog (I too got a bit frustrated in the less interesting chapters), but in the end I think it's mostly a plus of the novel. They feel like real people that could have existed.

Related to that, I do have mixed feelings on how absurdly long this book is. As I've seen many people point out, I feel like this book could convey much the same message and characters while being 200 pages shorter. This is my main gripe with the book, that there are many chapters that feel too boring, superfluous even. But also, I don't know that I would feel as deeply about it in the end if it lacked pages upon pages of detail and character study and thought. So while I do wish it was easier to read and more concise with what it was trying to say, I also can't say concretely "Man, Tolstoy should've written this way shorter". It probably wouldn't be Tolstoy in that case xd.

I feel that there's a lot in this book that I missed largely because I'm totally ignorant when it comes to Russian history and politics, which is a shame and probably contributed to me not being entertained as I could have been. I also think I would understand it better and be able to pick up on more of its intended themes if I reread it. But 800 pages... if I ever end up giving it a second read, it'll be a long time from now.

Overall, I liked it. It was a good read, especially toward the end when everything started to come together. I devoured the last 300 pages in less than a week! If you can get past its intimidating length and the fact that it's very much a product of its time with its commentary on Russian society and philosophy, I would recommend it. A solid 7.5/10!

"I shall still get angry with Ivan the coachman in the same way, shall dispute in the same way, shall inopportunely express my thoughts; there will still be a wall between my soul's holy of holies and other people; even my wife I shall still blame for my own fears and shall repent of it. My reason will still not understand why I pray, but I shall still pray, and my life, my whole life, independently of anything that may happen to me, is every moment of it no longer meaningless as it was before, but has an unquestionable meaning of goodness with which I have the power to invest it."

Current Mood: satisfied

I want to hold myself accountable for the reading I've set for myself. I think I might start doing this every month and hope it makes me more productive when it comes to reading. 6 days late into December but oh well, I can manage.

! = Priority

CR:

Anna Karenina — Leo Tolstoy (!)
A Christmas Carol — Charles Dickens
Horror Collection — Edgar Allan Poe

TBR:

Open Throat — Henry Hoke
The Brothers Karamazov — Fyodor Dostoevsky
Hamlet — Shakespeare

AR:

Regrettably I didn't read much this month (thus why this log is necessary xD) but in the future I'll probably put my thoughts and discussions here.

Current Mood: hopeful

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22	23	24	25	26	27	28
29	30	31

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Reading thoughts: Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit

Reading thoughts: Open Throat

Reading log: February 2026

Reading thoughts: Less Than Zero

Reading thoughts: Earthlings

Reading thoughts: The Beautiful and Damned

Reading thoughts: the Regatta Mystery and other stories

Reading thoughts: American Psycho

Reading log: January 2026

Reading thoughts: the Picture of Dorian Gray

Reading thoughts: Rashomon and seventeen other stories

Reading log: December 2025

Reading thoughts: Letters to Milena

Reading thoughts: the Shards

Reading thoughts: Contemplation, the Judgment, and more

Reading thoughts: the Metamorphosis

Reading thoughts: Bored Gay Werewolf

Reading thoughts: Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom

Reading thoughts: Anna Karenina

Reading log: November 2025

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