My February has been very hectic (to say the least), but at least I finally managed to get my hands on "Harrow the Ninth" thanks to my wonderful boyfriend who ordered it for me. <3 And just in time too because I was in a mood to get back to The Locked Tomb. This series completely won me over.
"Harrow the Ninth" picks up sometime after the ending of "Gideon the Ninth", and follows Harrow as she tries to adapt to her new life as a Lyctor. Her powers are immeasurably stronger, but in comparison to the older Lyctors she is seen as feeble and incompetent. Even worse, she is seen as a liability to the Emperor. She needs to learn to defend herself and prove to be a valuable soldier to her God, but this all seems a menial task in comparison to more dire matters - the indescribable grief and significant vulnerability which render her useless.
The first thing that stands out in this book is the switch in narration. "Harrow the Ninth" is mostly narrated through a 2nd person singular and is only switched to 3rd person singular when referring to the events which happen at the Canaan house. It's certainly an interesting writing choice which might prove to be slightly confusing at first, but Muir's beautiful style and fantastic storytelling quickly compel the reader to simply accept the fact that this is how "Harrow the Ninth" will be told. If something, Muir has proven numerous times that her writing decisions are always made with a specific intention, so it's best to just accept them and enjoy her work as it is presented.
Even though the story is a bit convoluted at first, things slowly start falling into place. New characters are introduced and old characters are given enough space to grow and expand. Muir incredibly utilizes her universe and the story in order to create a completely new experience of the series, but also provides many scenes where it pays homage to the first book and its events. "Harrow the Ninth" is truly an upgrade from "Gideon the Ninth" in tension, emotion, depth and story.
On the other hand, I'd argue that its pace is slower than that of "Gideon the Ninth". Harrow is actively preparing for the most difficult fight of her life, but the process of it is relatively passive. There's a lot of things happening at the same time, but it feels like the plot isn't moving forward at all. This book focuses more on other elements, than on its story, up until the very end where it builds up to a thrilling finale. Taking into consideration the aforementioned switch in narration and unresolved questions, it is easy to understand why some readers find it all difficult to grasp. However, "Harrow the Ninth" is absolutely worth the time.
There's a lot of things to adore about this sequel, but the portrayal of Harrow's grief, feeling of inadequacy, and utter helplessness take the crown. "Harrow the Ninth" is a story about loss and about love, it's about desperately clinging to that which doesn't exist anymore - a home she cannot go back to and which will never be the same, a person who gave their life for hers, and to a version of herself that she no longer is. It is about change and the inability to finally accept it.
"Harrow the Ninth" is a worthy sequel to a riveting book such as "Gideon the Ninth" and provides a compelling foundation for the rest of the series. Although the novel might seem a little slow and complicated, my honest advice is to just leave all your expectations behind, keep reading, and accept everything as it is written. The book is highly rewarding and offers something new and different. Reading through it has been a beautiful experience and I cannot wait to continue with the series and to, one day, reread it and appreciate it even more.
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Kada je Nil Jang u pitanju, naziv “Na plaži“ zasigurno ne obećava bezbrižan dan odmora uz lake teme, poletnu muziku i osvežavajuće piće. Radi se o nesvakidašnjem albumu jedinstvenog umetnika, punom neugodnih ali neophodnih preispitivanja, nekoj vrsti privremenog povlačenja i svođenja računa pred nadolazećim iskušenjima.
Po naklonosti i uvažavanju publike, album “On the Beach” daleko je prevazišao istoimenu knjigu a potom i film čiji su junaci pronašli utočište na plaži bežeći iz civilizacije razorene nuklearnim naoružanjem. Poklonici su godinama zahtevali CD izdanje ovog uz još pet albuma Nila Janga zajedno poznatih kao “nedostajućih šest”. Nakon neuspeha te kampanje, osnovan je internet sajt radi prikupljanja potpisa za peticiju o objavljivanju upravo CD-a “On the Beach”. Napori su konačno urodili plodom 2003. godine, nakon čega kultni status ovog ostvarenja neprekidno raste. 2014. godine album je proslavio punih 40 godina postojanja.
Naslovna strana je enigmatična, ali apsolutno odgovarajuća. Na fotografiji je scena sa plaže, ali je odmah jasno da nešto “nije u redu”. Ispod suncobrana u krupnom planu su dve stolice okrenute prema posmatraču, ali bez aktera. Praznina je sveprožimajuće osećanje postavke. Ofinger ispod suncobrana je bez odeće. Levo, deo kadilaka viri iz peska. Odsustvo ljudi i prisustvo nesvakidašnjeg objekta razbijaju tipično tumačenje plaže kao mesta za odmor. Pre je u pitanju postapokaliptični pejzaž sa kolima umesto bombe zarivene u pesak.
Pesak simboliše oazu, povlačenje, usamljenost što postaje sasvim jasno u nastavku slike na poleđini omota. Izmeštena palma je u saksiji. Horizontalnoj traci okeana prkosi uspravna figura. Jang publici okreće leđa, bos, ali u sakou. Oblačno nebo se u daljini spaja sa okeanom skrivajući pogled na druga usamljena ostrva. Nagoveštaj nevremena. Umetnik je izdvojen od arsenala svakodnevice. Jangova ležaljka je zarotirana pod zasebnim uglom. Novine koje pozivaju Niksona da podnese ostavku leže odbačeno ispod stola. Umetnik je “izuven” iz sopstvenih cipela. Unutrašnje povlačenje, bekstvo, preispitivanje. Preteća širina okeana upija svaku ljudsku zapitanost. Boja predmeta u prvom planu je žuta (sako, kadilak, suncobran, sto i stolice, konzerve piva) koja nametljivim prisustvom pojačava neupadljivo odsustvo sunca. Sve što bi moglo da posluži kao oslonac i uteha, brižljivo je uklonjeno ili stavljeno u suprotan kontekst. Briljantno. Po mnogima, jedna od Jangovih najboljih naslovnih strana, a usudiću se da kažem i jedna od najboljih u rok muzici.
Raštimovana bas gitara podvlači utisak izmeštenosti. Na momente podseća na zvuk ispumpane fudbalske lopte bačene na asfalt. Jangov glas povremeno ima promuklu, polurashodovanu notu koja već nagoveštava pijani krešendo na albumu “Tonight’s the night”. Iako deluje neusklađeno, poput pokvarenog automata u kojem pojedini delovi mehanizma uporno a uzaludno pokušavaju da sustignu ostatak zarđale mašinerije, orkestracija je zapravo vrhunski disbalansirana tako da ostavlja utisak neusklađenosti koji poziva na doradu, na učestvovanje, na saradnju. To je uočljivije u Jangovim stihovima koji ostaju otvoreni za različita tumačenja, poput emotivne mreže sposobne da obuhvati širok spektar osećanja. Jang je izbačen iz koloseka samo kad izgubi kontakt sa središtem bića. U situaciji u kojoj mu impulsi iz tog centra uporno izmiču samo za korak, oseća se relativno udobno prateći isti smer. Stiče se utisak da je u završnoj numeri kolosalnih tematskih razmera, umetnik konačno dostigao savršeno usklađeni ritam sa unutrašnjim bićem koji će mu dozvoliti da uz minimalni pristup orkestraciji pred nama raširi široku lepezu pitanja, dilema, i predosećanja. Turbulentna prošlost meša se sa neizvesnom budućnošću i muzika skoro sasvim zamire. Jangov glas ostaje jedini nosilac osećanja beskonačnog koje se utapa u nepreglednom okeanu.
Prva numera je praktično jedina sa letnjim ritmom primerenim plaži. “Walk on” otvara album naizgled poletno, iako se bavi teškom temom nerazumevanja, krivotvorenja i ignorisanja umetnikove poruke. Provejava nostalgija za prohujalim vremenima. Jang se priprema za odlazak u pustinju.
Već u sledećoj baladi “See the Sky About to Rain” navlače se oblaci koji više ne napuštaju scenu, praćeni povremenim naletima oluje.
Okosnicu albuma čini “bluz” trilogija koja se uglavnom ne uklapa u žanrovsku odrednicu iz naslova: “Revolution Blues“, „Vampire Blues“ i „Ambulance Blues“. Ove tri numere su udarne muzičke formacije na albumu i nosači glavnog emotivnog toka koji se kreće od besa preko ironije do rezignacije, od romantičnog podsećanja na prošlost do obračuna sa neumoljivom sadašnjicom.
Tek treća numera na albumu, “Revolution Blues“ prva je prava erupcija potisnutog socijalnog bunta i proključalog društvenog ogorčenja oličena u vatrometu revoltiranih stihova. Dajući oduška neprihvatljivim i nedozvoljenim osećanjima, Jang prolazi kroz raznoliku društvenu menažeriju izvlačeći iz tuđih usta sopstvene reči. Razočaranost postrevolucionarne generacije dobija svoju zadovoljštinu u brutalno demaskiranim stavovima. Činjenica da poslednje stihove umetnik izgovara kroz lik serijskog ubice Čarlsa Mensona, ne ublažava oštricu protesta. Sa jezom slušamo krvavu pretnju upućenu bogatim stanovnicima Holivud Hila u Los Anđelesu. Slično smo pomislili, ako ne i iskazali:
„Well, I hear that Laurel Canyon
is full of famous stars,
But I hate them worse than lepers
and I'll kill them in their cars.“
Nakon što je rezimirao mentalitet preletača, glumaca i sitnih šićardžija u “For the Turnstiles”, u narednoj krajnje ironičnoj „Vampire Blues“ Jang se krije iza maske krvopije dodajući još jednu sumornu nijansu aktuelnoj socijalnoj studiji. Krvožedni vampir prisvaja opšte dobro zarad lične koristi. Jang je iza maske lažno poletan, poput žrtve koja bezvoljno imitira nasilnika kako bi ritualnim ponavljanjem otupela bol. Režirano glumatanje biva pregaženo ironičnom gorčinom refrena:
“Good times are comin',
I hear it everywhere I go.
Good times are comin',
but they sure comin' slow.”
Ova šarada je samo uvod u naslovnu baladu “On The Beach” gde je alijenacija dovedena do specifične kulminacije. Sa objektivne distance, Jang zbacuje maske, jednu po jednu. Umetnik ne prepoznaje pređašnje ideale svestan tragičnog raskoraka između idealizovanog i sveta kakav jeste. Bolno seciranje realnosti surovom iskrenošću neophodno je kako bi paradoksalno rezultiralo povratkom ravnoteže. Sledeća numera je već svojevrsna ljubavna balada koja otvara vrata za epopeičnu “Ambulance Blues”.
Poput očekivane neophodne medicinske pomoći, poslednja numera donosi razrešenje u obliku devetominutnog preseka socijalne, ali i lične istorije dovoljno bogatog da ostvari utisak okeanske širine pred kojom će aktuelni problemi izgledati neznatni. Kontemplirajući nad prostorom i vremenom, Jang još jednom prelazi put sopstvene odiseje kroz vremena kada je svirao na punim ulicama, u zagušljivim klubovima i na pijanim splavovima ne propuštajući ni ovaj put priliku da se podsmehne idealima generacije čiji je glasnogovornik bio. Izvlačeći iz svega nekakav pozitivan stav zaključuje:
“And there ain't nothin'
like a friend
Who can tell you
you're just pissin'
in the wind.”
Pročišćen borbom sa ličnim demonima, umetnik se sa novom oštrinom sukobljava sa sumornom svakodnevicom. Obraćajući se Ričardu Niksonu kao ultimativnom oličenju zloćudnog razaranja društvenog tkiva, Jang upućuje poruku razumevanja svima koji poput njega nakon ogorčene borbe ližu sopstvene rane:
“I never knew a man
could tell so many lies.
He had a different story
for every set of eyes.
How can he remember
who he's talking to?
Cause I know it ain't me,
and hope it isn't you.”
Celo jedno poglavlje turbulentne lične ali i društvene sage na albumu dobija svoje konačne konture. Nakon Hladnog rata, atentata na Džona Kenedija, Kubanske raketne krize, Pokreta za građanska prava Afroamerikanaca, masovnih studentskih protesta ‘68, serijskih ubistava Čarlsa Mensona, afere Votergejt i Vijetnamskog rata, “On The Beach” je poruka u boci brodolomnicima u savremenoj kulturi. Iz današnje perspektive, više od četiri decenije kasnije, suočeni sa opštim prihvatanjem za normu onoga što je tada još uvek bilo žigosano kao izuzetak, sa novom nostalgijom gledamo na prelomno vreme kada smo se nadali da bi sve moglo da izgleda drugačije i kada je jedan umetnik imao dovoljno integriteta da nakon dobrovoljnog povlačenja na marginama društva govori o pogubnim zabludama potrošačke civilizacije.
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Hola, como estas, moji dragi autostoperi? Kako žene (muževi), deca, kućni ljubimci? Nadam se da ste svi dobro i da uživate. Uvek sam u dilemi koju knjigu sa trulog zapada da vam predstavim. Uz teške muke, izvršio sam određeni odabir. Naravno, očekujem da vam se dopadne.
Season of Storms – Andrzej Sapkowski
Da odmah udarim u glavu, tako je najbolje. Znam da ima mnogo poštovalaca Vešca. I sam…
I'm going to be honest, I completely forgot I had to write a review for this book, which is weird for me because, first and foremost, I love writing reviews for the books I read and, second, I love writing reviews for the books I loved. But I found myself at a stalemate with this one, mostly because I'm not sure what to say. There's a lot of things to appreciate in "Gideon the Ninth", and I'm a little intimidated by the fact I have to try and do them justice in this short text. Still, I'm going to try.
"Gideon the Ninth" follows the story of a necromancer, Harrowhark Nonagesimus, and her cavalier, Gideon Nav, as they embark on a journey to the First House where Harrow has to find a way to ascend to Lyctorhood (which is something like becoming necromancer supreme). Of course, they're not the only ones who partake in the assignment - they are joined by the representatives of the other seven houses who are there for the same goal. Harrow and Gideon are forced to find the answer, while at the same time trying to best the others at the same game. They soon find out that a lot more is at stake than they originally thought, and the tension only grows as all of them realize they are also being hunted by someone or something.
The book starts off relatively slow, with a very long introduction which spaces off into multiple chapters. A gradual beginning might not interest every reader, but it proves crucial for this story. Muir carefully constructs the basis for her novel, at first offering little insight to all the numerous characters. By choosing Gideon as her narrator for the book - a character who is genuinely confused by the setting and isn't interested in dull formalities - Muir manages to portray everything in a very laic manner. Hence, the reader learns about the world and its characters at the same pace as the lead.
Furthermore, this also allows the reader to develop a strong connection with Gideon, whose laid back, facetious personality offers a lot of room for the reader to relate to her. She presents a stark contrast to Harrow, a focused and stubborn necromancer, which Muir consequently uses to create an interesting and exciting dynamic between them. Their relationship is a perfect blend of planned versus impulsive, where Harrow will act out of intelligence, and Gideon out of curiosity or instinct.
Characters are definitely Muir's specialty, and it is evident on her writing how much time and effort she puts into them. Even though all the side characters are also necromancers accompanied by their cavaliers, every pair offers a different dynamic. Moreover, every pair comes from a different planet, so their personalities, behavior and gestures directly add onto the worldbuilding in a way which is not forced, but still informative enough. On the other hand, sometimes the characters felt a little too over the top, feeling like a projection of an archetype, rather than lifelike peple. But I digress, in this specific novel it is more of an advantage, than a drawback.
The story structure is not revolutionary, nor is the idea behind it, but it is presented in an interesting and refreshing way. Similarly, there are a few cliché moments, especially between Gideon and Harrow, but they are incredibly well written, so they don't feel lax. Instead, they offer an exciting and emotional scene which only benefits from the use of a popular trope. Muir has an astounding ability to present something that has already been seen in a new light, which gives "Gideon the Ninth" a nostalgic and familiar note, without making it too analogous to other works of fiction.
High stakes, tension, and action definitely don't lack in this book. Even though the beginning is somewhat timid, the growing build up of mystery manages to completely overthrow the initial dreariness. There's quite a few well thought-out fight scenes, layered with striking moves and exciting moments. The very end of the book features an extensive, flashy final fight that spreads out onto dozens of pages. Needless to say, it is a perfect finish for such an thrilling novel and won't leave any reader unmoved.
I had very high expectations from "Gideon the Ninth" and I must say, it didn't disappoint. What's more, this is one of my absolutely favorite books I read throughout 2023. It offers so much, from an interesting story to a riveting resolution, but its gorgeous, compelling and engaging characters are undeniably its greatest asset. I warmly recommend it to anyone looking for an unforgettable sci-fi story packed with action and peppered with good, honest humor.
While I am a big fan of Ito's work, I haven't had the time to pick up some of his newer works up until now (when I forgot to take a book of my own to read on my way home, so my boyfriend offered me a few from his collection). "The Liminal Zone" is another collection of short stories, featuring 4 of his works: Weeping Woman Way, Madonna, The Spirit Flow of Aokigahara and Slumber. He has worked on them during the pandemic and had been publishing them online before they ultimately got published as a physical book.
Ito's quite self-conscious about all his newer work, repeatedly saying how his stories aren't as good as they used to be, but compared to his older work, I'd say the stories in "The Liminal Zone" are definitely some of his best.
Weeping Woman Way is a story about a girl who suddenly can't stop crying after an encounter with a hired weeping woman on a funeral. In its core, it is a tale about the desperation of grief, sadness and depression women experience as they experience loss, not just of their beloved, but thousands of other people they have not personally known. Only the women are affected by the crying malady, and only other women truly understand the suffering it invites. Their sorrow becomes almost palpable through Ito's provoking illustrations. He has perfectly enraptured the pure helplessness that comes with sadness.
While Madonna was actually a really solid story with amazing Christian symbolism, the salt powers of the main antagonist take away from the fluidity of the plot. Ito's creative process for a story usually starts off with a specific source of inspiration that he decides to incorporate into his story, but he often doesn't have the right skills to blend it into the story properly, so some parts seem forced and unnecessary. Still, Madonna is a great read with some gorgeous, creepy visuals, especially of the statue of Mary crying bloody tears and the panels where the vice-principal shows her true angry and resentful nature.
The Spirit Flow of Aokigahara is the weakest story of the four, featuring a sick man who decides to kill himself somewhere deep in the forest, but finds some sort of cave from which spirits come out at night in the form of a raging river. The visuals are definitely unnerving, but the plot itself is quite shallow and somewhat silly.
The idea behind Slumber is nothing new, but it is nonetheless riveting. Ito took the famous The Killer in Me horror trope where the main character has no recollection of their crimes and spins it into a narrative where they have no obvious connection to the victims, but have memory flashes of killing them. There's a few minor issues I had with this story, mostly regrading Ito's explanation of the memories, but overall it was an exciting and compelling read. I'm a sucker for this trope and I am glad Ito decided to do his take on it.
The majority of negative comments regarding Ito's new work are mainly concentrated on his biggest weakness: mending plot holes. Ito's a writer who stays true to his ideas, so when they don't necessarily add up, he offers the reader a fairly simple explanation. In hindsight, yes, it negatively impacts his story, but I'd argue it's also his redeeming quality. A lot of his most impactful and well know work wouldn't even exist if he limited himself to completely drawn out ideas. If you prefer carefully planned out plots, his work might not be to your liking, but Ito definitely offers a truly unique and recognizable experience of horror that is worth to give a chance.
"The Liminal Zone" is an excellent choice for both old and new lovers of Ito's work. It features some great stories, it's filled with gorgeous, gory and horrific illustrations, and it's an interesting read.
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After a little more than a month and a half, I have finally finished "A Day of Fallen Night" and it was truly a remarkable experience. I have read "The Priory of The Orange Tree" earlier this year and liked it so much that I wanted to read the prequel as well. What I didn't expect is that I would love this book even more than the first one.
"A Day of Fallen Night" is the second book of "The Roots of Chaos" series. It is actually a prequel to "The Priory of The Orange Tree", but the stories are not directly connected to one another. Instead, "A Day of Fallen Night" offers a deeper insight into the history of the world, dwelling on a particularly gruesome chain of events that conspired some 500 years earlier than the story in "The Priory of The Orange Tree".
The book follows several narrators who are faced with the looming threat of a dragon army. Even though the characters are worlds apart from one another, their fates are tightly interconnected by ancient forms of magic which gives them strength when they most need it. In order to persevere through the seemingly inevitable, fiery end of the world, they have to push through their greatest fears, learn to adapt and be ready to sacrifice what they hold most dear.
The pacing of the book is slow, but steady. There's a continuous build up of tension which follows individual characters and pents up until the very end. Unfortunately, there's not a true great event that brings all the characters together into a great battle, but that's not really what the book is about. There can be no grand finalé because the story is not finished; the same peril continues in "The Priory of The Orange Tree". This in turn makes the ending of the book seem quite anticlimactic, but not necessarily unsatisfying. The characters have their own challenges to overcome which are only loosely tied to the main adversary. Therefore, "A Day of Fallen Night" isn't about defeating the dragons, it is an insight to historic figures who have indirectly or directly influenced the final conflict with the Nameless One, the leading dragon, which takes place in the sequel.
The characters are a vital part of the story, and Shannon proves, yet again, that they are her specialty. Each one offers an insight to a different personality, culture, history and point of view, which help broaden the already fantastic worldbuilding. Even though there's much to love about most characters, Shannon's women are definitely her greatest asset in her storytelling. There's something so particular in the way she allows each and every one of them to be strong in their own way. A lot of authors fail to allow their female characters to be vulnerable because they fear it'll make them seem weak, but Shannon embraces this trait and uses it to her advantage, to show the true depth to her characters. Similarly, Shannon gives herself the freedom to write soft and caring men. Men who are both warriors, but also fathers, brothers, sons and friends. They are allowed to feel and to show those feelings to people they hold dear. Of course, Shannon is by far not the only author who builds her characters in this way, but it's worth to note because it gives them a certain kind of warmth.
Another great, important aspect of the book is its position of LGBTQ+ characters. Shannon doesn't allow the reader a single moment to doubt the integral part of the LGBTQ+ characters in the series. Their identities are simply accepted and, while not the main theme of the book, treated as equals. In hind sight, maybe they shouldn't be, given that the governing bodies mostly rely on immediate family as successors, but Shannon actively avoids acknowledging it as a problem. Because it doesn't have to be. There's other ways to approach this issue, and Shannon wholeheartedly utilizes them. Personally, it's incredibly comforting and satisfying.
The language of the writing is so beautiful. There's something very poetic in the chosen words, in the sentence structures, in the themes and the ideas of the book, which make the story completely entrancing. Although it consequently doesn't allow for fast reading, it makes the experience of the book so much more rewarding.
"The Priory of The Orange Tree" mostly focuses on themes like settling over differences (especially religious) and working together for the common good, while "A Day of Fallen Night" offers a counter view. There's no agreed cooperation against the enemy, rather, the characters mostly work on their own, until the very end when they finally start forming stronger alliances and working towards the future. Seeing as the threat they're up against is almost unpredictable, brings heat, destruction, disease and unnatural phenomena, and is unstoppable until it stands against a higher force, it's easy to draw the parallel to the impact of climate change and global warming in the real world. Shannon also puts a big emphasis on the importance of the new generation, approaching births as a symbol of hope and change. Although the book itself doesn't truly focus on this symbolic as its main theme, I couldn't help but draw such meaning through her words and find that it struck a chord with me.
"A Day of Fallen Night" is an epic tale with fantastic worldbuilding, memorable characters, high stakes, and gorgeous storytelling. It is an amazing addition to "The Priory of The Orange Tree" and a valuable extension in the "Roots of Chaos" series. I definitely consider it one of the most masterfully constructed novels I have ever read, and I warmly recommend this book to anyone seeking a tale about magic, dragons, witches, queendoms, and political intrigues, that offers strong characters, beautiful language and an unforgettable story.
My expectations for the national book fair were quite low. Truthfully, the prices had been way too high in the recent years to be considered fair (feel free to chuckle at my bad pun), so I thought I wouldn't be able to find anything worth spending money on. But then I came across "Lapvona", a novel I've heard good things about and which seemed to be right up my alley. I presumed none of our publishers had it in store, so I was pleasantly surprised when I noticed it on one of the stalls and decided to purchase it immediately.
This text of this post turned out to be quite extensive and is more of an analysis, than a review, so I apologize if it doesn't turn out to be what you're looking for. I also do have to to warn that I mention a few spoilers, and a major one at that (regarding Agata's backstory), so I advise you skip this post in case you're not comfortable reading through them. And now, without further ado, my opinion on this novel:
"Lapvona" is a relatively short historical fiction novel which could loosely fit under the definition of folk horror. It features a story about a crippled boy, Marek, and his father, Jude, who live as shepherds in a village called Lapvona. Their life is hard and merciless, but they revel in their pain in order to please God, hoping that their suffering would earn them a place in heaven. Above Lapvona, in a big, beautiful mansion, lives their lord, Viliam, who spends his days engulfed in luxury, toying around with Father Barnabas, the local priest. In a long chain of events, Viliam adopts Marek as a replacement for his dead son, so the poor shepherd boy is suddenly thrown into the life of royalty.
The whole plot is a lot more convoluted, including a number of other important characters and themes, but it mostly revolves around the roles of family, community, survival, and women through the eyes of religion. "Lapvona" is, in its core, a genius and raw commentary on the interpretation of religious beliefs by people of different backgrounds. While it focuses on Christianity, it only uses it as a means to illustrate the many flaws religious worshiping ensues when it is enforced by people who use it to justify their flaws and sins. It is not religion itself that is evil, it is the person that abuses its beliefs.
Marek is an interesting choice as a main character, demonstrating a person, a believer, who fears God only because that is what he was taught to do while growing up. He sees his father as an icon of greatness, thinking of him as highly as he does God himself, but in truth, Marek holds little regard for religion. He punishes himself, makes himself small, and takes on a very pathetic personality because he thinks this is what an obedient Christian does. This in turn makes his motivation flawed, and, therefore, his actions crude and pointless. His true colors became apparent only when he starts living with Viliam, hoping that others will take pity on him and award him with their attention. He becomes angry when he doesn't achieve what he wants, slowly leaving his false persona and allowing the reader to finally see him as he truly is.
Moshfegh hides his demeanor very subtly, revealing it slowly later on throughout the book. This deceitful approach is quite cunning because it perfectly illustrates how difficult it is to see through Marek's lies, to himself and to others. It is his selfishness which betrays him. He is a motherless child who has never been loved and who constantly asks for attention of men, and for affection of women. While his needs seem to appear reasonable, he acts upon them with intense greed. He thinks of himself as deserving because he has obediently followed the rules of God and suffered like a true believer. He endures pain in order to receive a reward for it.
On the other hand, Marek is only human. He is a child who has never known love and searches for it in every person he encounters. This begs the question - who are we, a simple reader, to judge him? And why do we still do it throughout the novel? Moshfegh mentions multiple times that God truly doesn't care about the events in Lapvona, otherwise he would intervene with His divine power when people ask Him for help. The Christian God in the novel is portrayed as passive, a simple symbol of worship humans pray to. All the religious instructions come from false prophets who claim to know the word of God, like Father Barnabas who is portrayed as a fraud. He is a man who never truly listened to his lessons in theology. He takes advantage of the fearful peasants in order to turn a profit and to keep a high position in society, but other than that, he doesn't know much about the religion he preaches. Father Barnabas is, in fact, a metaphor for each person that dares to inflict judgment onto religious worshipers even though they themselves do not necessarily understand the very core of their religion's beliefs. Therefore, just like Father Barnabas, the reader truly has no right to judge Marek, for it is not up to them to do it.
Another theme very prevalent throughout the novel is the position of women in religion. Agata, Marek's mother, is portrayed as a girl who has been molested throughout her whole life - forced to mother a child born from incest, enslaved by Jude as his wife, then abused in the nunnery to which she escapes after giving birth. Her tongue has been cut of, so she doesn't even have the chance to speak up for herself. The lack of the ability to speak functions as a metaphor for the inability to fight against her oppressors. She is younger and weaker than her abusers, so her voice could have been the only weapon she could've successfully used against them, but it has been taken away by force. Agata has no power against what other people throw at her. Men constantly use her for her body, for their gain, so much so that she has simply accepted this as her reality.
The crimes of her abusers are rationalized through their religion. Jude molests her because he believes it is his right to do so. He thinks of himself as a good Christian man who deserves a wife because he follows the rules of the Bible, so he takes Agata when he pleases, justifying his devious behavior as the will of God. When Agata gives birth to Marek and runs off to the nunnery, the nuns assume she left her newborn because it was conceived under, to them, unacceptable circumstances. Agata is unable to tell them what really happened, but even if she could, would it even matter to them? Agata had been sexually involved with her brother and had laid with a man before marriage. The nuns see her as a sinner, regardless of her lack of consent during the act. Therefore, Agata has spent all her life learning that none of her desires, wishes, or opinions matter in the eye of God. In the end, her inability to speak doesn't even matter because others wouldn't even have the will to listen to her.
My only issue with the novel was that it lacks any real plot. The story consists of piled up of continuous situations stacked after one another, and the only real plot points are Marek's violent outburst against Viliam's son and Agata's escape from the nunnery. On the other hand, this is what makes the novel so realistic - life is, at the end of the day, mostly just an endless chain of monotonous events, so I do understand why it was necessary to write it as such for the purpose of its message.
"Lapvona" is a cruel, but superb commentary on religion and its exploitation for the purpose of controlling society. Moshfegh doesn't hold back in disgusting imagery of violence and has a distinct ability to masterfully portray the worst humanity has to offer. This novel is heavy and disgusting, in the best sense of these words. I wouldn't recommend it to people with a weak stomach, but I do recommend it to those in search for a future classic.
I remember how the "I Want to Eat Your Pancreas" anime and manga were trending when I was in high school because the movie just came out (2018.). There were so many positive reviews, but the most memorable comments were about how sad the story was. So much so that a lot of people cried their eyes out during the film. Still, I never got a chance to read it or watch it until a few weeks ago, when my boyfriend bought the manga.
First and foremost, "I Want to Eat Your Pancreas" is about a teenage girl, Sakura Yamauchi, who is suffering from a severe pancreatic disease. One day, a highly introverted boy from her class accidentally finds out about her illness, so she takes her chance and decides to befriend him. Since he is the only other person besides her family who knows she's sick, she finds his company comforting. While they are seemingly polar opposites - she is a bubbly extrovert and he is a reserved loner, their relationship still manages to slowly develop over time.
Sakura is a very bright and energetic girl who doesn't stray away from social situations. Her personality might be a little bothersome and unrealistic at first, but her radiant attitude quickly becomes charming and lovable. Because she is so cheerful, she makes the reader forget how sick she really is. Her happiness sometimes gets cut off with a gut-wrenching panel which draws light to her poor health and unavoidable death, reminding the reader that she is just a scared little girl.
The author plays a lot with concealing the main character's name, making the other characters call him by the title of how they view him. For an example, depressing-kun. Depending on which character addresses him, the titles can get rude, mean or insulting. Even Sakura doesn't call him by his real name, even though he tells it to her at the beginning of the story. This play with names and titles is truly an ingenious tool which the author uses to set up the main character's development and personality, as well as the change he goes through as the story progresses.
While the story is often described as a bittersweet romance (even on the back of the book), I wouldn't necessarily categorize it as such. The relationship between Sakura and the boy often drifts between platonic and romantic feelings because of the intense, sincere love they experience for one another. Neither one of them knows how to process such strong emotions, but they know their bond is anything but ordinary. Even their classmates become convinced they have started dating and only refuse to admit it.
But as the story progresses, both of them realize they don't have to appease to the societal pressure to be together. Their closeness originated because they needed a friend, not because they were romantically interested in one another. And while Sakura does sometimes tease the boy and seems to be truly attracted to him, her actions are often guided by the fear she might miss out on the joys of a normal teenage life, not because she truly wants to be with him.
Moreover, the author often points out that life is about experiencing it with other people and finding your place in the community. A person cannot survive on their own, but they also do not have to appease to every single need from society. Romantic love is only secondary to the primal human need of just being seen, held and heard. This is what Sakura and the boy both learn from each other and why their relationship works.
Therefore, I consider "I Want to Eat Your Pancreas" as an ode to friendship, one which sprouted between two completely different people and which developed because they both needed each other.
The storytelling is incredible and perfectly rounded. The ending is foreshadowed, so it is not entirely unpredictable, but still shocking because of the plot-twist. The feeling of emptiness when Sakura dies is portrayed so well. Her personality had always been so loud and suddenly the panels seem so quiet after she's gone. The last few chapters are extremely emotional, to say the least. Both the author and the illustrator perfectly conveyed the feelings of all the characters, so it is not difficult to get entirely engulfed in them.
"I Want to Eat Your Pancreas" could definitely be considered a classic according to its popularity, influence and overall delivery. It offers stunning visuals, beautiful storytelling, cute characters and a satisfying, but somber ending. I absolutely recommend it, even to people who might usually not be into manga or anime.