My story begins on a sweltering August night, in a place I will never set eyes upon.
Adoption isn’t an easy subject, but the historical story line of Before We Were Yours shows at the very least how it definitely shouldn’t be handled.
There are two story tellers in this novel about an “orphanage” that basically stole children from poor people and sold them to rich families. One is the girl and her siblings that go through it, the other connected to her through different generations. This element sometimes makes it a little bit Lifetime-ish, although her motivations for discovering more are at first more political than personal. ie the sob story starts later into the story.
Weaved in between these two is a romance that isn’t quite necessary, but not horribly done either. I feel like the subject is what elevates this novel from being just another one of the paperbacks your gran reads and pushes upon you because it’s “so exciting”. It’s an easy, accessible read, but the horror of the “orphanage” and the reality on which its based, is what gives the story its pull.
Before We Were Yours, Lisa Wingate, Penguin Random House LLC 2017
Wow. Ik loop weer eens achter met iets kijken dat een poos geleden helemaal gehypet is/was, maar genoeg mensen zeiden ook dat je er echt wel de tijd voor moest nemen. Dat het emotioneel nogal pittig was, en dat is niet iets dat ik even voor de lol/uit verveling er doorheen jas.
Ik weet niet of ik het zou aanraden als ’emotioneel pittig’, Hannah Gadsby is gewoon heel erg eerlijk en geeft daar geen excuses voor. Ze vertelt over hoe ze dat gewend is, iets persoonlijks en ongemakkelijk vertellen om vervolgens er snel een grap van te maken want stel je voor dat iemand anders door haar niet comfortabel is. Ze vertelt ook hoe slopend het is om dat steeds weer te doen.
Ze vertelt over haar homoseksualiteit, haar jeugd, Vincent van Gogh en mentale ziektes. Ze doet het gortdroog en met emoties, en altijd onderbouwd. Er zijn zoveel opmerkingen en momenten waarbij je ofwel een ‘oh ja’- of een ‘oh shit’-gevoel ervaart. En dat hebben we allemaal wel eens nodig.
Dus ja, het is de hype waard, wanneer je ‘t ook kijkt. Maar serieus Netflix, waarom in vredesnaam Ellen hierna suggereren? Kon je echt geen andere link vinden dan “ach, het zijn allebei lesbiennes”?
Hannah Gadsby: Nanette, Netflix 2018
It was late in the spring when I noticed that a girl was following me, nearly the end of May, a month that means perhaps or might be.
Gods, I wish that this would be mandatory reading for male teenagers. Okay, any teenager. Why? Because it hits home with several hammers the fact of diet culture and how women are viewed in society. I know, but so many still don’t, and it’s best to get them as young as possible.
Is this is an activist story? Is showing reality activist? Protagonist Plum is fat, and have been working almost her entire year to not be it. She’s not living, she’s functioning until she can live as a skinny person, a normal person. Things are changed around when someone reaches out to her.
Simultaneously, violence acts against male rapists and abusers happens. People are confused, shocked, motivated, because whenever do men get what’s coming for them? Maybe a few trigger warnings are at place here: Sarai Walker doesn’t avoid descriptions of said acts.
The comedy tag is mostly for the laughing in disbelief you might do. Because yes, they’re right, and yes, it’s really this stupid. Or maybe you just have to laugh to prevent from getting angry for the entire time of reading it. You wouldn’t want to be considered unfuckable, after all.
Dietland, Sarai Walker, Houghton Mifflin Company 2015
Marsh is not swamp.
Subconsciously I picked out two books about protagonists who are – by their surroundings – viewed as dangerously different. This one plays out in the (recent) past, but both Kya and Evan suffer from living in a small town.
Kya’s family is very, very poor, living in the marshes (or on the edge of it) and there’s not enough happiness around for anyone. Her family members leave her, and she falls back onto her familiar surroundings instead of the judgmental villagers.
This goes on for years, and might have gone on longer – Kya turning into something of a Tarzan, except with gulls and other birds – if a murder mystery wasn’t added to the equation. And what happens when disaster strikes? People look at the stranger.
This isn’t as greasy and damp as Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, but Owens does create a colourful, sometimes feverish world in which every human is a misfit – except for Kya. Yes, there could be more background about certain things, and the murder mystery is tied up not completely satisfying, but it’s a book with a feeling. And quite a few ornithology lessons.
Where the Crawdads Sing, Delia Owens, G.P. Putnam’s Sons 2018
I should have guessed something was up when I was walking home.
Somehow I expected a softer story: the title, the subject (teenager doesn’t dare to come out), the surroundings (a small American town). But the author doesn’t hold his punches, like the mother of the protagonist doesn’t. I know that’s considered a spoiler, but I feel like that subject should come with a warning.
Evan’s life isn’t an easy one. His mother views him as lazy and evil, and his father almost never steps in when she gets aggressive. He doesn’t dare to come out to anyone, and all his energy goes to keeping all his different worlds (home, church, school, friends) apart.
Things change when his good friend starts to change, and when someone from Bible-camp shows up. Collision happens, and Evan can’t stop it.
The language used is clean and honest. Sometimes the tone feels a little bit too much like that from an after school program, but one has to remember that first of all these are a teenager’s feelings, and second of all, this is all too often someone’s reality. Besides that, you just want better. And possibly push his mother into the Grand Canyon.
The dangerous art of blending in, Angelo Surmelis, HarperCollins 2018