"My Phantoms" by Gwendoline Riley

My Phantoms is narrated by Bridget, but we don't learn much about her through the course of the book; rather, we are treated to an intense character study of Bridget's parents (but mostly her mother). 

The pictures painted of Lee and Helen ("Hen") are so vivid--quirky, detailed, solid--that I am low-key consumed by trying to figure out if Gwendoline Riley is describing her actual parents. They seem so real (if not necessarily likeable). My only problem was trying to hear Lee make his constant obnoxious pronouncements in a British accent; he kept sliding into an American voice in my mind. Anyway, a quick internet search for an answer to this question has not provided me with a satisfying conclusion. I suppose it's most likely that the characters are a conflation of Riley's parents, other people she's known or come in contact with, and her imagination. 

This book is a short, absorbing read, with its engrossing depiction of Bridget's non-relationship with her dad and strained contact with her mom, but I found it fell apart somewhat towards the end, through Hen's illness. Still real, but almost too real, with the sense that I was reading about mundane boredom which was . . . kind of mundane and boring. 

"The Man in the Picture" by Susan Hill

I really enjoyed this creepy little story. I think it would lend itself well to a creepy little movie, which is not surprising as Susan Hill also wrote The Woman in Black. 

I probably should have read this on a dark and stormy night instead of in the thin sunlight of Thanksgiving Day, but it was still plenty of fun to read about a haunted painting and the story of revenge behind it. The writing was very atmospheric even without help from my surroundings. 

I find myself with two big questions after reading, and I'm not sure whether they are plot holes or intentional ambiguities. Why didn't Mr Parmitter appear in the picture? And what did Clarissa have against Oliver? (I can satisfy myself with explanations for my second question, but not for my first.)

"Mrs Dalloway" by Virginia Woolf

I am proud of myself for having read something by Virginia Woolf. (Now you know that I am not afraid.) However, I do not think I am interested in reading anything else of hers. Except that I do feel somewhat obliged, as a woman, to read A Room of One's Own. 

Mrs Dalloway takes place all in one day. The narrative follows a meandering path, always returning to Clarissa Dalloway and her preparations for the party she is throwing that evening, but diverging regularly into the minds of side characters. The stream- of-consciousness style of writing reminded me of Ulysses, but thankfully I did not find Mrs Dalloway quite so baffling. (Side note: I did wonder whether the difference was heightened by the fact that I read Ulysses on a Kindle? To me, it's just so much easier to find your bearings, or flip back and refresh your memory on what you've previously read, in a real book made of paper.) 

As I mentioned here nearly a year ago, Rachel Cusk's Arlington Park was inspired by this book. And as you can see from the book cover pictured here, it also inspired The Hours (though I have neither read that book nor seen that movie, and now I feel driven to do at least one of those two things). I definitely enjoyed my reading experience more with Cusk, but I am also glad to have read Woolf. 

“Where’d You Go, Bernadette” by Maria Semple

Sam suggested that I should read something I knew I would enjoy for my birthday weekend. I think he meant that I should re-read something I had enjoyed in the past, but I preferred to pick something new. There’s always the risk that I would end up choosing a clunker, but really—with so many books and so little time—I would rather try a new book (and not like it) than do a re-read. Especially considering the possibility that the re-read wouldn’t live up to my memory of it!

This book totally worked for me. It was a lot of fun. Not necessarily a book that invited deep thought, but it was engaging and a pleasure to read. The only problem was that I finished it before the end of my birthday weekend!  

There was a lot of chatter about Bernadette in the blogosphere when this book first came out, but I'm nearly a decade behind the times by reading it in 2021. In case you missed it the first time around too (AND missed the 2019 Cate Blanchett movie), here's the story: Bee Fox is a highly intelligent young teenager about to finish middle school in Seattle. Remembering a promise they'd made years before based on her perfect grades, Bee's parents offer her anything she wants as a reward, and she chooses (of all things) a family trip to Antarctica, despite the fact that her mother (the titular Bernadette) is basically agoraphobic and really only leaves the house to get Bee to and from school. After a series of unfortunate events and before embarking on the planned voyage, Bernadette disappears. The story is told in a compilation of emails and a variety of other notes that Bee is collecting to try to figure out just exactly what happened. 

By now you know I'm one of those weird people who reads every single word in a book (ok, well, maybe I skip most of the colophon). So it should be no surprise to you that I read all the advance praise found in this book even though there were a dozen pages of it (or at least four). The odd thing is that almost every line claimed that this book was laugh out loud funny. I'm here to say no, it was not. I will agree that it was amusing and mostly light-hearted, but I'm pretty sure not a single giggle escaped me as I read, and that's not because I was intentionally keeping my giggles prisoner. Just trying to temper your expectations. You may smile on the inside as you read this book, but I won't promise that you'll laugh out loud. 

"Luster" by Raven Leilani

 

I feel I'm at a loss for words over this gritty, quirky, dark story told from the point of view of Edie, a young black woman in New York City. But Sam read this book before I did, and I am feeling lazy today, so I am going to turn this post over to him. 

SAM: Okay, since it's your birthday, I will write it for you! I really enjoyed this novel. I think what stood out for me, particularly considering it's a debut, was the vibrancy, consistency, distinctiveness and sheer confidence of the narrative voice. It was itself, all the way through. It also feels very compressed: it's only 227 pages long, but reading it is an experience. Every sentence feels charged, sometimes to the extent that you have to read them two or three times to unpack all the meaning. And even then, I felt like there were quite a lot of references that I didn't get. Maybe because I'm not American, or I'm too old.

Luster is a very 2020s novel in terms of its diction, frames of reference, subject matter, themes, and so on, but in other ways it's quite classical/traditional. It reminded me -- and I know this will sound incongruous, but it did --  of writers like John Updike, Philip Roth and Martin Amis. Partly it's the verbal pyrotechnics, partly the dark wit (sections of the book read almost like a highly poetic stand-up routine), and partly the unflinching, unsentimentalized, deglamorized (but still erotic) sex scenes. I'm pretty sure the title is intended to have a double meaning: not only sheen or gleam, but one who lusts.

KATHY: Thank you, Sam! I'll just add "yeah, what he said." And I'll try not to continue abusing my birthday powers too much throughout the rest of the day.