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A review by korrick
The Selfless Act of Breathing by J.J. Bola
2.0
Suicide. Now there's a topic to mull over during dinner. Despite having lived with a brain that's been telling me to kill myself for the last twenty years, I don't consider myself an expert in the subject. Indeed, given suicide's inherent characteristics, I wouldn't say anyone could be so and still remain among the living. Long story short, the field of view is eternally subjective, and with such a charged, still largely taboo on the Occidental side of things topic at hand, if you encounter a piece of literature that purposefully seeks it out, rather than tacks it on to a dangling plotline or less than credible character development in order to smooth over an incoming flaw, you're dealing with something unique. Brave, even. Still, not only have I dealt with my fair share of days lived under a depressive episode, I've also read a reasonable number of books, and when it comes to fixing the trajectory of self-annihilation into print, there are certain things that work and certain things that don't. For me, this book fell into more of the latter than the former, but I still admire it for the topics it chose to tackle, especially ones that are oh so pertinent to the 21st century and yet (or perhaps because of that) are so unlikely to show up on the bestseller lists. An exercise in weighing individual evaluation against the communal sphere of influence, then. In reviews, we can achieve little else.
In case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm one of those incessantly annoying critics when it comes to the whole 'show not tell' side of writing. It's a tool that's served me well both in my own writing and evaluating that of others, and until there comes a time when narratives take a deep dive and make resembling Wikipedia articles the fashion, I'll continue to adhere to it. Certain topics of course can veer away from the principle and do just fine, but when it comes to a work that aims to be a meditation on whether or not to take one's life, it's not unfair for me to expect a certain level of measured introspection without a great deal of bangs and booms. What I found was a mirroring plot trajectory with first person reminiscing interwove with third person present recountals, and while the attempts at a certain style of prose were appreciated, I cared more about how the writing chose to portray the evolution of suicidal ideation, something that I myself am more than familiar with. In the end, while I was able to follow the narrative well enough and certain plot events and thought digressions were more intriguing than not, especially when delving into the complications of being Black on both sides of the Atlantic, there were too many climaxes and not enough resolutions for a work taking on so many heavy topics in less than 300 pages. As I said earlier, there is certainly a need for a work such as this taking on such concerns in an extremely 21st century, and I more than appreciate the author's intent. However, the piece as story did not work for me, and I've lived long enough to know that it doesn't do well to continue to dwell on that more than it takes time to write this review, especially with subject material such as this.
If you told me what would happen in my life between the time I started writing this review and the time I finished it, I would lose a good week of sleep in tormented expectation. As it stands, I have come through it all relatively unscathed, and I find myself ever more appreciative of having a small, yet solid community whom I can come to in times of trauma and trust to aid me in my path towards healing. The main character's descent happens part and parcel due to the fracturing of his community, from the most intimate of familial relations to the most chaotic of strangers finding a home in each other, and while I didn't see the point in piling on so many events that were each in and of themselves strong enough to crush someone entirely in so close a succession, I do commend the accurate portrayal of cause and effect. In any case, while I would prefer not to contribute to the work's less than stellar average rating, if I start hedging my bets now, I will have less room in which to properly evaluate future reads in any particularly credible sense. So, if you're thinking about reading this, take into consideration the trigger warnings, both encompassed by the book summary and otherwise (discussions of sexual assault, depictions of racism, drug abuse, misogyny, queerphobia, etc) and choose accordingly. This didn't prove to be the read that I needed to convince me to keep on living. But it may very well end up being that for someone else.
In case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm one of those incessantly annoying critics when it comes to the whole 'show not tell' side of writing. It's a tool that's served me well both in my own writing and evaluating that of others, and until there comes a time when narratives take a deep dive and make resembling Wikipedia articles the fashion, I'll continue to adhere to it. Certain topics of course can veer away from the principle and do just fine, but when it comes to a work that aims to be a meditation on whether or not to take one's life, it's not unfair for me to expect a certain level of measured introspection without a great deal of bangs and booms. What I found was a mirroring plot trajectory with first person reminiscing interwove with third person present recountals, and while the attempts at a certain style of prose were appreciated, I cared more about how the writing chose to portray the evolution of suicidal ideation, something that I myself am more than familiar with. In the end, while I was able to follow the narrative well enough and certain plot events and thought digressions were more intriguing than not, especially when delving into the complications of being Black on both sides of the Atlantic, there were too many climaxes and not enough resolutions for a work taking on so many heavy topics in less than 300 pages. As I said earlier, there is certainly a need for a work such as this taking on such concerns in an extremely 21st century, and I more than appreciate the author's intent. However, the piece as story did not work for me, and I've lived long enough to know that it doesn't do well to continue to dwell on that more than it takes time to write this review, especially with subject material such as this.
If you told me what would happen in my life between the time I started writing this review and the time I finished it, I would lose a good week of sleep in tormented expectation. As it stands, I have come through it all relatively unscathed, and I find myself ever more appreciative of having a small, yet solid community whom I can come to in times of trauma and trust to aid me in my path towards healing. The main character's descent happens part and parcel due to the fracturing of his community, from the most intimate of familial relations to the most chaotic of strangers finding a home in each other, and while I didn't see the point in piling on so many events that were each in and of themselves strong enough to crush someone entirely in so close a succession, I do commend the accurate portrayal of cause and effect. In any case, while I would prefer not to contribute to the work's less than stellar average rating, if I start hedging my bets now, I will have less room in which to properly evaluate future reads in any particularly credible sense. So, if you're thinking about reading this, take into consideration the trigger warnings, both encompassed by the book summary and otherwise (discussions of sexual assault, depictions of racism, drug abuse, misogyny, queerphobia, etc) and choose accordingly. This didn't prove to be the read that I needed to convince me to keep on living. But it may very well end up being that for someone else.