Needed a palette cleanser and this was v cute. Public humiliation does stress me tf out though
How do we examine the legacy of colonization when the basic facts of its construction are disputed in the minds of its beneficiaries?
How can we engage, discuss, even think through a post-colonial lens, when there’s no shared base of knowledge? When even the simplest accounting of events - as preserved in the country’s own archives- wobbles suspect as tin-foil-hat conspiracies in the minds of its educated citizens?
But what it takes to get there isn’t what you need once you’ve arrived.
I feel. Of course I do. I have emotions. But I try to consider events as if they're happening to someone else. Some other entity. There's the thinking, rationalizing I (me). And the doing, the experiencing, her. I look at her kindly. From a distance. To protect myself, I detach.
These directives: listen, be quiet, do this, don’t do that. When does it end? And where has it got me? More, and more of the same. I am everything they told me to become. Not enough. A physical destruction, now, to match the mental. Dissect, poison, destroy this new malignant part of me. But there’s always something else: the next demand, the next criticism. This endless complying, attaining, exceeding – why?
It’s evident now, obvious in retrospect as the proof of root-two’s irrationality, that these world superpowers are neither infallible, nor superior. They’re nothing, not without a brutally enforced relativity. An organized, systematic brutality that their soft and sagging children can scarcely stomach- won’t even acknowledge. Yet cling to as truth. There was never any absolute, no decree from God. Just vicious, random chance. And then, compounding.
Why subject myself to their reductive gaze? To this crushing objecthood. Why endure my own dehumanization?
Considering its short length, this is a razor-sharp reflection of what it means to navigate a predominantly white, imperialist culture as a black person. Racism is so embedded in our society and language that people turn a blind eye to the subtleties and how they add up to a brutal total. She talks about the ways that black bodies and the idea of diversity have been commodified to further the status quo. She talks about the erasure of black experiences and identity in the pursuit of “assimilation” aka disappearance; The way that black people are forced to be complicit in their own dehumanization. There were so many quotes that were so precise that I was in awe. Do yourself a favor and pick this up.
I am a dreamer; I have so little real life that I regard such moments as this one, now, to be so rare that I can’t help repeating these moments in my dreams. I will dream of you all night, for an entire week, all year long.
But how have you lived if there’s no story?
And now I know more than ever that I’ve wasted all my best years for nothing!
It will be sad, you know, to be left alone, quite alone, and not even have something to regret- nothing, absolutely nothing… because all that I have lost, all this, it was all nothing, a stupid, round zero- it was nearly a dream!
You know, we thank some people for merely living at the same time as we do. I thank you for the fact that I met you, that I will remember you for all my life!
Why is it that the very best person is always hiding something from other people and is quiet about it? Why not say frankly and immediately what’s in your heart, if you know that you’re not speaking idly. As it is, everyone looks more severe than they actually are, as though they’re all afraid their feelings will be hurt if they reveal them too soon…
This is about the power of and desperation for human connection- About a momentary refuge in another’s company that cannot last. It’s about loneliness, unrequited love, yearning, solitude, and dreaming all told through fantastical and whimsical prose.
This asks the question: what is your quality of life if you’ve lived it entirely in your head. Even though it maybe be more pleasant in the short term, it removes the full spectrum of human emotions and thus what it means to be human. If you allow yourself to feel the full range, maybe you’ll find something better than the dreams and delusions, however fleeting or bittersweet it may be.
I struggled a bit to get through this. The character development wasn’t there for me and the pacing felt a bit wonky.
I think my expectations going into this were too high. The character/relationship development was not as fleshed out as I’d like, and it was a bit predictable.
Sally Rooney just gets it, and the girls that get it, get it, and the girls that don’t, don’t. She just has such a unique approach to characterization that I’m not sure how to even describe but I appreciate nonetheless. I like her social/political/philosophical musings about everything from societal collapse to god. I was kinda worried going into it because a lot of reviews talked about how pretentious the characters can be, but dare I say, that’s part of the point? This book is ultimately about trying to find your place in a broken world.
Do yourself a favor and pick this up. A short, but impactful story about doing the right thing when everyone is telling you not to bother.
Overall a good start to a new series. I loved Cassandra Clare’s books in my formative years, so this was a no brainer to pick up. I liked all of the characters which was nice considering the dual pov. Some of the world building did confuse me a bit, but I will definitely read the next one when it comes out.
