I found myself in a bookshop the other day, as you do, and was browsing the poetry section. I don’t read much poetry at all but I’m willing to discover authors beyond Mary Oliver and Rupi Kaur. The bookseller started chatting and recommended this woman poet from Quebec with such heart that I bought one of her collections on the spot.
Hélène Dorion’s poetry is very accessible, very evocative and rich in imagery. The collection opens with short poems around the experience one has in forests, and evolves toward longer pieces linking trees with the history of humanity and other large themes. I’m not a poetry critic, as you can see. I really loved the shorter poems and savoured every word. This short volume would be perfect as a gift to someone who would like to start reading poetry!
Hatoko vient de reprendre la papeterie familiale et de s’y installer comme écrivain public. Animée par un désir de bien faire, elle croise sur son chemin des personnalités plus variées les uns que les autres, des amitiés bourgeonnantes et des commandes parfois difficiles à satisfaire.
Ce roman assez léger et délicat me faisait envie depuis longtemps, mais le souvenir du dernier livre de l’autrice était encore cuisant : j’ai été absolument traumatisée par Le Restaurant de l’Amour retrouvé, pour une raison entièrement personnelle, pas parce que le livre est traumatisant en lui-même. Ici, pas question de restaurant ou d’animaux de compagnie, donc j’étais sur mes gardes mais j’ai surmonté mon appréhension. Bien m’en a pris, car j’ai passé un moment tout à fait charmant au fil des saisons de la papeterie. J’y ai ressenti le calme et l’apaisement que me procure le manga Le Vieil Homme et son Chat. J’ai souvent du mal à apprécier les romans japonais à cause du détachement que je ressens envers le personnage (Haruki Murakami je te regarde, j’ai essayé plusieurs de ses romans mais n’en ai aimé aucun). Ici, tout était teinté par la subjectivité de la protagoniste et j’ai aimé sa sensibilité.
J’ai particulièrement savouré les descriptions du travail d’Hatoko lorsqu’elle calligraphie une lettre. Tout est méticuleusement peint par l’autrice pour le plus régal des amateurices de papeterie comme moi. Je vous recommande ce livre si vous avez besoin d’une pause et d’une bulle de sérénité.
Ce recueil de nouvelles érotiques est à peu près aussi loin de mes habitudes de lecture que l’on peut l’imaginer. On ne peut nier être exposé.e à la sexualité au quotidien à travers la fiction, les publicités, etc. Cela a toujours été une source de malaise pour moi jusqu’à ce que je comprenne que j’étais asexuelle. Depuis, j’ai un rapport beaucoup plus détaché à ce type de représentations, et ma curiosité face à la revendication queer du recueil a fait le reste.
Je trouve que l’existence même de ce livre est à célébrer. Il présente des perspectives très variées, tant au niveau des auteurices que des personnages, et reste loin de la vulgarité qui menace toute représentation de la sexualité. Une seule nouvelle m’a vraiment déplu, ce qui m’attriste car elle explore des perspectives stylistiques tout à fait intéressantes. J’ai à l’inverse été absolument ravie de voir que l’asexualité avait sa place et s’intégrait tout naturellement dans le sommaire de ce recueil. Sans citer toustes les auteurices, il me faut également mentionner le texte de Jeanne Mariem Corrèze, dont la seule présence justifie la lecture de cette anthologie tant elle déborde de poésie.
Avertissement : une nouvelle présente une relation de pouvoir déséquilibrée dans le couple.
In this lengthy historical fiction paying homage to masters of the genre, two women on opposite sides of the social scale meet, deceive and are deceived.
I’m not a big reader of classics and / or historical fiction.I was attracted to this one, recommended by Jen Campbell, for its queer rep and atmospheric prose, and it delivered. I found in there the slow pace and quiet plot of classics, its exploration of character and setting, but without the usual sexism from the authors of the time. The outrageous treatment of women in the Victorian period is absolutely at the foreground of this novel, but it is very much denounced and fought against with the characters’ means (which aren’t much). Some twists and turns awakened my interest when it was lulled to sleep by the sheer length of the novel. On the whole it’s not a favourite but I can see why it’s bound to become one for lovers of classics and historical fiction.
This elegant dark academia novel steeped with nostalgia follows the pattern of a young person from a middle-class background who gets to university and discovers the world of elite students. Here, the scene is set in Oxford for half of the novel, which was a third of the reason why I wanted to read it, the two other thirds being dark academia & queer rep. And as it turned out I was a little frustrated with those.
The first one I blame entirely on the discourse around this book and not the book itself. To me, dark academia should include a near or fully obsessive search for knowledge. Or some sort of hidden knowledge that is of primary importance to the characters. In The Lessons, our main character is studying physics, but he could be studying anything else and it wouldn’t change anything to the plot because the learning is never part of the plot. The exams are, for a significant part of the novel, but there is no thirst for knowledge.
As for the queer rep, no one in this novel seemed to have heard about bisexuality. They all seemed to think that it was a fault in their very character if they happened to fall in love with people of different genders. A large part of that was because of monogamy and the character’s deep-seated belief that people should only love one person at the time, which is an opinion I respect. Yet some passages made it very clear that it was strange for them to fall in love with someone of a gender different from all the persons they’d had relationships with before. The word bisexual was written only once in all the book, and it qualified a very secondary character. It felt like such a missed opportunity to represent queer people that aren’t just a cis white gay man (who happens to be the “““villain””” with all the quotation marks possible).
All in all, The Lessons is an excellent nostalgic character study told in elegant, beautiful prose, that suffers from the way it’s being talked about. It made me think of Brideshead Revisited.
Rep: queer characters who think they are straight and gay but in fact are bisexual. Sorry not sorry.
Cet album absolument somptueux et d’une mignonitude à se damner raconte l’histoire d’un corgi adopté par des renards des neiges, et qui veut savoir si lui aussi deviendra lumière quand son heure sera venue.
L’autrice m’avait prévenue qu’il pouvait se lire à plusieurs niveaux et c’est exactement ça. Le texte est vraiment minimal, ce qui ouvre la voie à plusieurs interprétations, des plus prosaïques aux plus touchantes. Les dessins sont de toute beauté, et les couleurs donnent l’impression que les blancs scintillent.
Je pensais acheter ce livre pour mes neveux mais je ne regrette pas que ma langue ait fourché et que j’aie donné mon nom pour la dédicace, car ce petit bijou est désormais à moi.
The importance and scope of this essay cannot be overestimated.Edward W. Said, a Palestinian author, set out to describe, explain and discuss the huge concept that is Orientalism in a very nuanced and learned book that is very demanding but also very rewarding. Summarising those 400 pages would be ridiculous. Let me just say that this book, although it ends on a relatively optimistic note, opened my eyes to the historical and deep-rooted bias or filter with which colonising powers (England, France and the USA) consider what they refer to as “the East” without ever considering the myriad of cultures and societies this word encompasses. Orientalism was never really about knowing the civilisations it depicted, but rather about finding in them justifications or examples of the prejudices the Orientalists perpetuate.There are outrageous examples of blatant racism in both scholarly works and literature, which Said puts into context and discusses with a calm I certainly did not feel. I was a little frustrated that the author chose not to focus on art, but on the one hand the book would have been twice as big, and on the other hand, he gives many critical foundations on which to base future studies (either by him I believe, or certainly by other scholars).
An Indigenous bookshop ghost story, what more could you ask for?
In The Sentence, Louise Erdrich weaves the ordinary (as mundane or heart-wrenching as it can be) and the supernatural to create a rich tapestry of contemporary life as an Indigenous person in the USA, with a strong emphasis on community and a balance between darkness and light.
Tookie is a very grounded person, an ex-convict now working in a bookshop owned by… a certain Louise. They have their regulars, each one with their habits and particular tastes in books. One of them, Flora, dies at the beginning of the story, but she doesn’t seem ready to leave the bookshop.
Once the situation is set, the author sets out to detail the daily life of the bookshop and its daily haunting, through the eyes of a gruff but very endearing character, Tookie, who is very flawed but very loveable. I loved the balance of her prose that walked the line between prosaic and spiritual. In short chapters, she captured vivid scenes and interactions that made this book highly entertaining even though not a lot was happening. The touch of the supernatural was very welcome to add another dimension to the book. It was also very informational about Indigenous people living in Minneapolis and its surrounding area, without feeling like you were taught a lesson.
On the whole, this book felt very intentional, and forced me to slow down to savour every bite, which is very rare for me. I was in no rush to see what was happening next, and it brought me a lot of peace even though some parts were harrowing. I highly recommend this nuanced and multi-facetted book that holds a lot in a very readable format.
Bartholomé Renard est inquiet. Ses parents partis en expédition dans le Grand Nord ne sont pas rentrés le jour prévu. Tous les livres de la librairie de son oncle Archibald ne peuvent le consoler, alors les deux compères s’embarquent sur l’Etoile de Bellécorce, le train mythique, à la recherche des deux renards. En chemin, les rencontres et les mystères s’accumulent.
Ce troisième tome des Mémoires de la Forêt vous brisera le cœur aussi sûrement que les tomes précédents. Je ne comprends pas par quelle alchimie Mickaël Brun-Arnaud écrit des histoires aussi douces et réconfortantes que déchirantes de tristesse, mais le résultat est là, embelli par les superbes illustrations de Sanoe. Si vous n’avez pas encore découvert cette série, je vous la recommande chaudement, tout en vous prévenant d’avoir une boîte de mouchoirs à portée de patte, et une boisson chaude assortie d’une gourmandise de votre choix pour accompagner votre lecture.
In a submarine world wrought with mysteries, two sets of correspondence draw the outlines of new friendships and potential love in the wake of grief.
I think the best adjective to define this book would be “charming”. It feels very quaint and old-fashioned in a good way, and highlights the best parts of its characters — their unshakable faith in the fact that there’s some good in this world. All of the characters (we follow four epistolary writers) are very endearing and kind-hearted.
I haven’t read lots of epistolary novels (mostly classics) but with a generous suspension of disbelief it worked really well. There were some parts that felt a bit repetitive, but it’s easy to blame them on the characters’ anxiety and desperate need to be understood. I did wish we as readers learnt more about the worlds, but it would make zero sense for characters to start explaining things they know to each other. The trick of having one character living in isolation enabled the author to get the necessary elements to the readers fluidly.
I loved the atmosphere of curiosity and research that pervaded the book. I think it’s the first “light academia” book I’ve read, but I have no doubt it belongs to that subgenre. I would have enjoyed a little darkness myself, to balance the pastels and fluffiness, but I understand it was not the place for it. Well, not all of it is cheerful since we know from the start that two of the correspondents are dead. But believe me when I say the author handles that fact with the utmost delicacy and though you might find your heart wringing at times, it really is a cute story.
Rep: MC with OCD and possibly demisexual, sapphic MC, bi MC, MC with social anxiety.