A cautionary tale of toxic love, class, and identity.

I was in awe of James Baldwin's writing. He wrote evocative descriptions which not only immersed my heart and soul but also my eyes, ears, and all senses I had inside. His power to create sharp dialogue while staying true to the character's internal thoughts was breathtaking. There were times when I had to pause, take in a certain passage, and feel the power and the enormity of his sets of words—which were simple vocabulary wise, but packed a powerful jab in the heart.

His character work was astounding, profound and complex in the most human ways, that despite the short span of the novel, I found myself deeply caring for them. David may not be the best in terms of human nature—but as a protagonist and I hate to admit this—I could see where he was coming from. It's hard to live in a world that expects a lot from you. How you act and carry yourself, who to marry and settle down with, who to love. Giovanni, on the other hand, was a solid representation on how was it like living as a poor man in France falling into the most abject miseries, brought about by his class and identity. Sometimes, your mere existence could be the weapon of others to exercise their contempt. What a poor soul.

Conversely, the novel's length was also its weakness. Because near the end of the novel, more and more topics began to arise, and I think it would be more impactful if it was a little longer. Anyways, I really loved this book, I was moved, and I felt a little spark of change inside me.

James Baldwin, you sir, are a genius!