Tag: Book Reviews

  • Review: Promising Young Women

    Review: Promising Young Women

    Like with most stories that start with a twenty-something London-based office worker navigating the breakdown of a long-term relationship, your mind settles in for a harmless piece of Chick-Lit. And then Caroline O’Donoghue’s Promising Young Women knocks you off-centre by turning into something else entirely.

    The praise on the book’s sleeve repeatedly uses the word “gothic.” Thanks to a module I did in my final year at Swansea (brilliantly named Uncanny places and cyberspaces: Gender and the fantastic) I’m well aware that gothic tropes aren’t limited to stories set in haunted houses in the nineteenth century, but even so Promising Young Women does something totally refreshing with ideas of uncanniness. It’s a novel that proves how relevant gothic images, like starving women fading away, mirrors, periods and other bodily fluids, continue to be relevant and effective at portraying contemporary crises.

    “I don’t have a boyfriend or a fabulous career, and I think she’d like some better adjectives to describe me to her friends with.” – Promising Young Women

    At first, the book doesn’t have the most groundbreaking plot you’ve ever heard of (woman’s anonymous blog seeps into her real life) but O’Donoghue gradually gets under your skin as she tells Jane’s story. A story that while almost fantastical is likely to be relatable and understandable for any young working woman.

    The darkness and depth of this book creep up on you and by the time you’ve realised, you can’t put it down. Dealing with power imbalances (professional and romantic), mental illness and the false security of the Internet’s anonymity, this debut novel makes O’Donoghue one to watch.

  • Favourite Reads of 2018 So Far

    Favourite Reads of 2018 So Far

    Somehow, we’re already over half-way through 2018 and as the summer holidays approach I’ve had lots of people asking me what books they should read on holiday. So for this blog, I thought I’d try and pick my five favourite books from the first half of 2018, whether or not you fancy reading them on holiday is up to you.

    Homegoing – Yaa Gyasi

    Let’s start with one I actually read on holiday, shall we? My general rule is that if a book is recommended to me by two or more people in a short space of time then I should ignore the pile of unread books next to my bed and read it immediately. As was the case with this beautiful book. Homegoing traces two parallel family trees through every generation from the colonised Gold Coast to twenty-first century Mississippi. The stories in this book intertwine seamlessly, to reveal how slavery and colonialism leave indelible traces. So much happens in so many different places (in the world and in time) and yet every character in Gyasi’s book is fully formed and deeply complicated. Homegoing is a really special book.

    There’s also lots of interesting period commentary in this book if you’re here for the #Periodically blogs.

    The Cows – Dawn O’Porter

    I’ve talked about this book a lot since I read it in January, so why would I stop now? Everyone I’ve recommened The Cows to so far has loved it and it always kickstarts some really interesting conversations about motherhood, womanhood and, for want of a better word, unmotherhood. The book has a twist that literally dropped my jaw – I’ve had texts of shock as each of my friends have reached this page. Want to know what the twist is? Well, you’ll have to read it.

    Read my full review of The Cows here.

    Chanson Douce – Leïla Slimani

    In English this book is called Lullaby – you’ve probably heard of it as it’s been all over the place with headlines like, “The Killer-Nanny Novel that Conquered France.” It’s such an unusual, gripping and dark book. Thrillers are not usually my cup of tea, but I might have to reconsider that after Chanson Douce. The social, political and moral issues it explores give this book a real edge. This was one of the first contemporary French novels I’ve read and now I must read more. 

    Hag-Seed – Margaret Atwood

    This half-play half-novel is a retelling of Shakespeare’s The Tempest and is Atwood like you’ve never read her before. Set in a Canadian prison, this contemporary retelling uses Shakespeare’s themes and Atwood’s skill to create something brand new and brilliant.

    Read my full review of Hag-Seed here.

    Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race – Reni Eddo-Lodge

    If you’re looking to swatt up on BME history in the UK this book is a great place to start. Eddo-Lodge’s voice is so refreshing and hard-hitting, informed yet digestible that it creates something truly unique. Her chapter on White Feminism was particularly poignant to me, as well as her discussion about how it’s no longer enough to simply just not be racist. I loved it so much that I then binged her podcast About Race, which I also recommend.

     Like the sound of these books? Buy them now from Wordery.

  • Review: It’s Only Blood – Anna Dahlqvist #Periodically 25

    Review: It’s Only Blood – Anna Dahlqvist #Periodically 25

    Last week I attended the launch of gender, sexuality and human rights journalist Anna Dahlqvist’s book It’s Only Blood: Shattering the Taboo of Menstruation. The conversations on the night, between Dahlqvist, the founder of Bloody Good Period Gabby Edlin and the audience were interesting enough, but the book itself stands out as an enlightened piece of writing about the profound impact that period taboos, period poverty and poor menstrual hygiene have on menstruators’ lives.

    The book was originally published in Swedish and has been translated into English by literary translator Alice E. Olsson. Olsson was at the launch and discussed the fun (and struggle) of translating some of the menstrual colloquialisms.

    https://www.instagram.com/p/BjJ2uqLFo_-/?taken-by=baraliteblod

    It’s Only Blood is not a list of historical period myths, instead it’s a contemporary assessment of how reinforced menstrual shame continues to cause harm on a monumental scale. “Even though shame and silence are experiences shared by menstruators all over the world, the consequences become far more serious when an additional dimension is introduced: poverty,” Dahlqvist writes.

    The testimonies, many from school girls and activists from Uganda, Kenya, Bangladesh, India, America and Sweden, are combined with Dahlqvist’s research of UN legislation to highlight the fact that inaction when it comes to menstrual hygiene, education and resources means that many human rights are being violated, and yet, there’s a distinct lack of retaliation by politicians. The book is also coloured with Dahlqvist’s personal anecdotes and descriptions, which makes this serious book palatable – it’s rare to get a non-fiction book that you can’t put down.

    “Power over the period is a necessity, a precondition for participation in public life,” Dahlqvist writes, in reference to the serious social and educational issues poor menstrual hygiene can bring about. When school girls don’t have access to running water or locking doors, their options are rather bleak. If they bleed in public they’ll experience immense shame (the weight of which is only heavier when menstrual myths maintain that seeing or touching menstrual blood is bad luck), returning home to secretly clean and change a cloth at lunchtime, avoiding school entirely or hoping, at risk of infection, that one cloth or pad can survive a whole school day. Unsurprisingly, this has a profound and direct impact on their education. The book also explores how, contrary to popular opinion, these problems don’t go away as menstruators leave school.

    One particularly interesting part of It’s Only Blood is the connection Dahlqvist draws attention to between infections, like UTIs and Bacterial Vaginosis, which can be caused by poor menstrual hygiene, with HIV and HPV (leading to Cervical Cancer). Society, including period product providers, encourages menstruators to aspire to be clean and fresh while simultaneously not letting anyone around them know that they are bleeding. With all this shame and secrecy, it’s no surprise then that students in Malawi dry their menstrual protection under their mattresses or that in Bangladesh, one women hides her cloths in the roof, rather than drying them in sterilising sunlight. It’s a public health issue, why aren’t we treating it as such?

    Not only is Dahlqvist’s book intersectional in the stories that it tells, it also covers the intersections of menstrual hygiene with poverty, politics, commercial business and cultural and social stigmas. If you’re already active in combatting period poverty It’s Only Blood will spur you on and if you’re new to the discussion, the book will motivate you to join the ranks. Activists’ stories of feats large and small show how desperately change is needed, but also how in some cases, how little it takes to dramatically improve things.

    It’s Only Blood perfectly showcases how menstrual shame causes problems for everyone and why shattering the taboos will undoubtedly improve individuals’ lives and society in broader terms.

    Buy It’s Only Blood from Wordery by clicking here.