I really didn‘t like this but I have horrible luck with short stories so it is probably my own bias. Grim and gritty, these stories leave the reader gasping for mercy
I really didn‘t like this but I have horrible luck with short stories so it is probably my own bias. Grim and gritty, these stories leave the reader gasping for mercy
I wasn't expecting to like this one. But I do. I don't know why they marketed it as short stories. It's more like pieces of a life. It's not a memoir, but it reads like one. It's about a girl struggling to find herself and her place in the world. It's very raw and real. There‘s a lot of trauma in this one. It‘s not my favorite from the shortlist, but it‘s pretty close. #CanadReads2024
I have a few questions about this one. First I‘m curious why it‘s been marketed as short stories when it holds together as a novella. Second, why Canada Reads shortlist this year? I‘ll be keen to see the debate on how this book moves us forward and how long it takes for the thematic/setting twinning with Scarborough to come up.
An exceptionally raw, dark, difficult collection of stories that visit Loli at various points in her life. Themes of belonging, immigration, grief, poverty, and sexualization leave a pit in the stomach. This collection is well written, and engaging, and I'm glad to have read it, but it is a difficult one to recommend because it is unrelenting in its grit and dark. I didn't feel any glimpses of hope or light to balance.
cont'd in comments...
Throwback to yesterday, when I finished Téa Mutonji‘s interconnected short story collection. She has a lot of good stuff to say about sexual relationships, sexually charged friendships, and family ties—but for all the pluses, I found her Americanized school language a disappointing distraction. I spent at least as much time considering why it bothers me so much as I did mulling over Loli‘s experiences growing up in Scarborough.
Nice pairing at this Starfest event: Tea Mutonji and Zalika Reid-Benta. 😊
This book was so good and intense. Review coming soon.
Today‘s NetGalley approvals. I‘m excited for all these books! My first Simon and Schuster approval.
Today turned into a crappy and unproductive day, so I‘ve given up on everything and am curling up to ignore the world.
In Galloway, Mrs Broomfield was legend for witnessing the Rwandan genocide. Her attitude so much positivity and optimism, like, “This is a war, child, it‘s not going to last.” I liked to apply that to everything else: this world is a war, this neighbourhood is a war, this street, this house, this body, this person, this feeling, this war.
Interconnected short stories follow Loli, a Canadian Congolese immigrant, from age 13 to 26, as she blunders through sexual encounters with boys & men, supported and confused by intense female friendships. Raw, surprising and unforgettable.
I was standing in line at the Tim Hortons on campus when I saw Jonas. He was ordering, leaning forward over the counter and whispering his order to the cashier. She blushed, covered her mouth with her free hand. Her hat was red. If Patty were here, she would have said, “Women dressed in red are more sexually attractive to men.“
(Internet photo plus another Timmies reference for my collection)
Henry had more hair than I expected. On his top lip, a pair of bushy brows, an entire grass field slapped across the bottom half of his face. When he got out of the car and waved, I gave Jolie a look that said, You didn‘t tell me he was a hundred years old. In turn, she gave me a look that said, Stand up straight and stop acting your age.
We once saw a man at the intersection of Galloway & Lawrence with a small teardrop tattoo. It meant he had killed someone, Theresa told me, and lost the love of his life because of it. Detailed, I thought. Didn‘t understand how she could get all of that from a tattoo.
(Internet photo)
He just talked and talked and talked. I think my father had enough words in him to rewrite Don Quixote. His favourite book. Because he believed in so many of his stories, I never knew which one belonged to either one of us.
The next morning, he was still dead, but not like an exclamation point, like a set of ellipses.
The view from my hammock: Spending this gray Sunday reading in my library. (I‘ve been meaning to paint this room a better color since we moved in five years ago, but that would cut in on my reading time.?) I‘m currently reading SHUT UP YOU‘RE PRETTY by Téa Mutonji. What are you reading today? ?❤️?
This is a collection of closely-linked short stories about a girl/woman growing up near Toronto, living some tough stuff and trying to make sense of it all.