crybabybea's reviews
240 reviews

 

Beautiful and terrible. This book healed something in me that I wasn’t expecting. Yes, it was incredibly triggering, dark, and harrowing. Seriously, if you have experienced abuse or are at all sensitive to abuse, PLEASE be careful picking this up. It is grim. There is no joy, and Vanessa experiences nothing but pain throughout the entirety of the book.
 
That being said, the themes that Kate Elizabeth Russell tackles are masterfully done. This novel is compared to Lolita for obvious reasons (and Lolita plays a huge part in the story as well), but the author adds a layer of complexity that brings it to relevancy in the modern era.

Vanessa (our stand-in Dolores) is very deliberately aged up to 15. She is young and naïve, but beginning to understand the adult world, adult desires, and grappling with emotions and feelings that many girls know too well. I appreciated Vanessa’s character so much. Typically, when you read stories about abuse from the POV of those who experience it, they tend to be pictured very specifically; bright-eyed and innocent, they unknowingly wander into the wolf’s den and are snatched up and devoured. There’s almost a sense of tip-toeing around darker characterizations and inner worlds, a fear of adding complications to the “perfect victim”. Vanessa, however, is realistic and complicated. She’s reeling with teenaged melancholy, trying to make sense of big feelings that nobody understands. She feels invisible, like she doesn’t matter and nobody notices her. So, when she’s presented with the opportunity to push the boundaries of what is right, and finds a supply of attention and adoration, she pushes it. She is naïve as any teenager is, but there is part of her that thinks she likes the danger and the attention.

Of course, she is innocent, just as innocent as 12-year-old Dolores or any other young person who experiences abuse. In no way am I implying that she deserved anything that happened to her, or implying that she was “asking for it”. Nor do I believe that she had “a darkness” within her that caused her to seek these things out (something that Jacob Strane uses to groom her and convince her that something is wrong with her). She is a young girl experiencing big feelings in a world where young girls with big feelings are at best swept under the rug, and at worst ridiculed and humiliated. She’s too young to understand the depth of what is happening to her and the lasting consequences the experiences will have, but she’s not young enough that she doesn’t at least slightly understand her own desires and autonomy. Her relationship with Jacob Strane is, in a twisted way, her way to feel some sort of control and empowerment in a time where she has none. This is the sort of complexity that My Dark Vanessa seeks to explore.

Along the same lines, Jacob Strane is a better-written antagonist than is usually shown in these sorts of stories. I can’t say he is necessarily complex, since we don’t get his POV and he isn’t the focus of the story, but I appreciated the way the author chose to write him. In the book, he isn’t unbelievably handsome, incredibly intelligent or wealthy, or irresistibly charismatic. In fact, he’s an off-putting weirdo with anger issues and Vanessa herself admits that he is ugly, that he disgusts her. He doesn’t even know how to cook anything besides toast and eggs. In the scenes where he manipulates and gaslights Vanessa, he is clearly pathetic, an insecure worm that needs constant reassurance from a teenager that he isn’t a bad person. He isn’t a supervillain mastermind who is able to manipulate anyone on a whim and turn the whole world against you. He’s simply an average man that exists in a system that enables him to take advantage of his position and power with no consequences. The scenes of manipulation and gaslighting are so chillingly well-done, although sometimes I felt like the author held the reader’s hand a bit too much, I understand why with such a sensitive subject.

In that, the author also dips her toe into critiquing the systems in place that protect abusers like Jacob Strane. The school is complicit, with so many adults turning the other way, or making a cute joke out of Jacob Strane and Vanessa’s clearly inappropriate relationship. It also asks the question, when young girls are isolated by design, at once sexualized and infantilized, minimized and disbelieved, at what point are we all complicit in the abuse they face? The contemporary inclusion of modern movements such as #MeToo and social media storms expound upon these questions even more. What makes someone a victim? What happens when the victim isn’t perfect, when the victim isn’t a rule-abiding, modest little girl with braces and pigtails? What if the victim doesn’t believe they are a victim? Or a survivor? How much responsibility should be placed on the shoulders of victims to speak out, and how helpful is it really for predatory journalists and activists to get involved? This book will challenge you if you haven’t already deconstructed your preconceived idea of victimhood.

Although it’s a smaller part of the story, I found Vanessa’s experience as an adult reconciling her memories of the relationship to be so well done. Again, in stories like this, there tends to be one narrative that follows the same plot beats. The victim fights, gets justice, goes to therapy, heals, maybe finds a new healthy relationship and lives happily ever after. The one thing I would have liked to see just a bit more of was an exploration of Vanessa’s relationship with her mother. The scenes we got between them were so dynamic and nuanced, and I think the author would have done a great job pushing it a bit further. I still found their relationship to be realistic and accurate. Not only is Vanessa dealing with the lifelong repercussions of the abuse, how can the relationship between mother and daughter move forward when she so obviously failed Vanessa? It’s such an interesting bit of the story.

And finally, I connected so much to the ending. It reminded me a lot of I’m Glad My Mom Died,

  in the sense that the emotional trauma experienced by Vanessa made it impossible for her to cut ties with her abuser, and the only way she was able to begin to move on was with his death. Her journey isn’t perfect, in fact she has to do a lot of inner healing and deconstructing to even see herself as a victim. She hurts people. She uses people for her benefit. She destroys her body, her relationships, her mind. I loved, after page after page of grim realizations and horrific abuse, the teeny, teeny, teeny glimpse of hope on the very last page.

Overall, I found My Dark Vanessa to be a realistic, if horrifying, depiction of the realities of girlhood and survivorship, and a poignant critique on systems that allow abuse of power to be so pervasive.

This was just okay, but it just mainly fell flat for me. Everything that I liked about it just didn’t go far enough for me to really sink my teeth into. 

I liked Tamsyn Muir’s writing style for the most part; she is skilled at writing complex passages and her use of language and literary devices are top notch. I also felt it was a weakness for her; sometimes it felt like she got too swept up in beautifying the descriptions of everything, to the point that some passages ran on for far too long and completely upended the immersion in the story. Because of her tendency to describe everything to the fullest detail, she has a bad habit of “telling” rather than “showing”, and it became a crutch for her more than it boosted the overall narrative. 

The pacing was super off. The first half of the book is genuinely a slog to get through, and the reveals of the second half were not enough to make it pay off. There were just no stakes. Even after the mystery element of the book picks up, it doesn’t hit like it should. There isn’t a feeling of tension and anxiety; a story like this with a locked setting and unraveling mystery should feel almost claustrophobic. Instead, because we’re in Gideon’s head, it’s just like, “so what?”. Gideon genuinely has no clue what’s going on. This is a really cool idea, to make Gideon something of an unreliable narrator who solves the mystery alongside the reader. It didn’t pay off for me though. Once the plot gets going, it’s entertaining enough to keep you engaged, but man it’s a lot of work to get there. 

The world-building was just okay, with a really cool magic system. The introduction into the Ninth House was so mysterious and interesting, and I was really disappointed that we immediately left and the majority of the story took place on what is essentially Earth. There wasn’t anything special about the world of the First House and the setting was completely locked to what seemed to be a sprawling mansion in the middle of nowhere. The setting is nebulously “in space”, but it doesn’t have any impact at all, except for vague references to “The Empire” and “The Emperor”. The magic system of necromancy also works super well in the gothic, haunted mansion setting. But, I don’t agree that the world-building is confusing. The world itself is easy to understand, and the magic system is straightforward. It’s just that the choices that Tamsyn Muir makes tend to be unnecessarily convoluted. 

The characters were just blank to me. I could not care less about any of them. We spend the entire first half of the book getting to know them, and I still left feeling like I didn’t know anything about them. It’s a shame because I think Tamsyn Muir does show some moments of great characterization, but most of the time she relied too much on her descriptive prose rather than creating fully fleshed-out characters. My inability to connect with the characters pretty much ruined the whole book, because the reveals at the end were entirely hinged on the hope that you would connect with the characters and be completely shocked; instead I was still trying to figure out who was who, because they spend the majority of the book going by numbers rather than names. I even kept notes on the characters as I read and it still took me a minute to realize the difference between the two “P” guys. 

And Gideon herself… I have a love-hate relationship with her as a character. In some ways, she’s so cool and has potential to be interesting and engaging. In other ways, she gets completely drowned out by her sardonic narration and quippy one-liners. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a total anti-fun scrooge, and I definitely laughed here and there at her wry comments, but there were times that went over the line for me. At times it broke the immersion as she pulled out a pop-culture reference or a middle-school insult. I like that she’s goofy and doesn’t take herself seriously, and I understand it’s a coping mechanism for her to be super edgy and invulnerable, but it really took me out of the story and ruined the final story beats for me. If sarcastic banter is something you really like, it will definitely work for you. It’s well done, and woven into the story well, just didn’t work for me. I will say Harrow’s story is incredibly interesting and I have hope for a story that focuses on her instead of Gideon. 

Interestingly enough I found the horror elements to be the best part of this. Tamsyn Muir’s descriptive writing can really shine as she describes the horrific creatures our cast encounters. Where she fails at inserting tension in the calmer parts of the book, she is able to inject darkness and heart-pounding anxiety in the more intense scenes. She can choreograph scenes really well and is able to describe complex magic, without holding the reader’s hand, but also without making it completely overwhelmingly confusing either. The big fight scene at the end was really well done, and I appreciated that it pulled from previous scenes to really drive home that the characters had learned from their experiences and grew in power naturally. 

The themes are done really well too, especially around life and death, friendship and what it means to love and be loved. 

The one thing that really saves this for me is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s got some great moments of horror, some thrills and chills, but it never tries to position itself as a life-changing experience unmatched by no other. It sort of tongue-in-cheek recognizes its ridiculousness, and that makes it fun. It also keeps me from being more harsh in tearing it apart, as I’ve read much worse novels by much worse writers who take themselves way more seriously than Tamsyn Muir. I’m disappointed that the heavier-hitting scenes didn’t really hit for me, especially the ending. It’s like, I get it, and I understand why this worked so well for others, but it didn’t for me. And that sucks because I really wanted to love these characters as much as everyone else, and weep at the ending too, but instead I just feel meh. But that’s okay. 

I still have hope for Tamsyn Muir as a writer, especially since this is her debut novel. I think she is a gifted writer, and she has some really smart ideas. I’m not put off from continuing this series (especially because I still find Harrow immensely interesting), but I think I’ve had my fill of sarcastic dick jokes at the minute. 

I think this book should be pitched as a mystery with sci-fi elements, not the other way around. It’s definitely a gothic horror vibe. It’s a fun mix of genres but it definitely leans heavily on the whodunnit aspect, which is fine, but not what I expected. It feels a lot like Clue. Again, fun, but not really what I wanted. I still think this is worth a shot if you are new to sci-fi and want to ease in a bit to larger sci-fi concepts. 

This was sooo well done. This is my third book in the category of "large scope of Black history that often goes overlooked/is purposefully kept out of history books" and this was definitely my favorite one. Not only was it packed with information, but it was written in an extremely accessible way with a unique, entertaining voice.

It's really skillful how Michael Harriot was able to tackle very dark topics and injustices, but kept a sort of lighthearted tone that made the book easy to get through. Imagine taking a 15 hour lesson from your favorite history teacher -- the kind of teacher that clearly has an unmatched passion and an immense understanding of their topic and can make the lesson fun and engaging.

I know it feels wrong to categorize a book like this as "funny" or "fun", but it's the best word I have to offer. It's packed with dry sarcasm and footnotes in the author's voice to break up the long list of facts, dates, and statistics. I also appreciate the author's inclusion of entertaining stories to help break up the monotony. I liked being able to hear about prominent Black figures, not just how they suffered, but how they fought, resisted, and found meaning in their lives in a system so built against them. Michael Harriot also does a good job creating a web that connects all the figures and timelines, making connections between people that I had never heard before. I feel like when you think of history as it's taught in school, it tends to have a sort of disconnect between time periods and prominent figures. They almost exist in a vacuum and it's hard to imagine the different interwoven figures and events. Michael Harriot does an excellent job organizing them and helping the reader understand things as they happened, rather than just disconnected events on a linear timeline.

For all of its irreverence, there were some seriously heavy-hitting, beautiful quotes scattered throughout the chapters as well. My personal favorite was the very last page of the book:

Fantastic and 100% worth the read.

There’s a lot of weird family drama surrounding this memoir. I read every Goodreads post and the posts on Twitter from the other family members, and it’s extremely confusing. I don’t want to deny the experience of the family members speaking out against this author, but I found a lot of their comments super inflammatory and at one point Grace’s sister-in-law blames her for her mother’s death which is super uncomfortable. I’m also hesitant to believe people that accuse others of having “victim mentalities”. 

Additionally, I’m extremely hesitant to be the kind of person to pick apart memoirs and wonder about inconsistencies or “farfetched” situations. Human memory is fickle especially when combined with immense trauma. I think Grace’s perspective is valid and I don’t think she made an attempt to speak for any member of her family, but rather to share her experience as a first-generation immigrant, and how it intertwines with her mother’s story. 

Although her family members say it’s easy to verify her information via census reports, I did attempt to look into it and couldn’t find anything easily accessible. Regardless of whichever side is right, there is clearly an immense amount of grief, tragedy, and trauma that has generational effects. There is also clearly an immense amount of shame around Grace’s mother’s schizophrenia, and shame in admitting to conflict and trauma in the family. I think both of these issues are core to the book’s theme. 

Finally, there is a statement released by the Korean publisher who published the translated version of this book in Korea that you can find here. Obviously it’s written in Korean but it’s understandable once translated; it includes a statement from Grace’s close friend who was present around her mother often and was present during the time of her mother’s death. 

So… what a mess I guess? I find it weird to try to disregard somebody else’s trauma and “prove them wrong”, but I do find it concerning that there’s a possibility her mother did not consent to Grace’s research or publishing of her story. 

As a memoir, I found it to be solid but quite disjointed. I understood the story Grace was trying to tell, and I think the book opens up some interesting perspectives on schizophrenia, especially as it relates to marginalized people, and intertwining it with the experience of mother/daughter is very compelling. She is a talented writer and writes with emotion and a clear voice, and I do believe that writing this (whether it’s real or fiction) helped her heal in some way, and that’s important. I felt the depiction of Grace’s mother was done with a gentle touch and obvious care, but other family members feel differently. 

I do find it important to note that, although there were clear issues between Grace and her brother as shown in the book, she was extremely respectful of him and only included him marginally and did not make assaults on his character, even though they clearly had differing beliefs regarding their mother and her treatment (as Grace explains herself). I also appreciated Grace’s intersectional view of her mother; I felt it helped to paint a three-dimensional picture of her mother, as someone more than just an ill person. I found it to be complicated in a beautiful way. 

Sooo because of all that I’m giving it a neutral 3 stars. Definitely check out her brother’s review on Goodreads, read the statement from the publisher, watch a couple interviews with Grace, and decide for yourself. 

Really well done. This was sold to me as "morally gray lesbians that want to burn the world down" and I feel pretty satisfied with that description.

The world-building is definitely standout here. Tasha Suri did such a great job building a lush world that pulls from Indian mythology and history. The Indian inspiration played really well with the themes of the book as well, which focus on misogyny, colonization, and religion, and the different ways people resist empire and oppression. I like that we spent time in the world, not just learning about it. There were a couple times the exposition was a bit heavy-handed but definitely still better than a lot of other authors could manage.

I loved the characters and their complexity, especially the complicated relationships between siblings, friends, and wary allies. I wasn't the biggest fan of the romance but it wasn't the worst I've read, either. I do like the exploration of trauma between the two main interests - both are scared to love and trust for different reasons. Actually, my favorite character ended up being one of the "side" characters who becomes a larger player later in the book. The cast, though, is full of badass women who are powerful in different ways. I seriously appreciate that the author wasn't afraid to show the complexity of femininity in all of its forms, and she wasn't afraid to show her heroes as strong but vulnerable, good but vengeful, manipulative but sincere. I also appreciated the fact that more violent forms of resistance weren't villified; even if characters morally didn't agree with each other, there was a sense of understanding that comes from being mutually oppressed. Tasha Suri painted a picture of resistance that was incredibly realistic and empathetic.

The plot starts off really slow; it doesn't pick up until around 50% in, but once it picks up, it's impossible to put down. Usually this is pretty annoying for me but I found the pacing enjoyable and it made sense for the world that was built. It was really important for us to spend that first half of the book really understanding the characters and the world, and I appreciated that the author chose to start off slow so we could spend time with the characters and form our own opinions about their motives and personalities. The time spent building up is worth it for the journey that happens in the last half of the book. It could have been super sloppy and rushed and a lesser author would have turned it into an info-dump fest so I was really satisfied with the pacing. 

The one thing I wish was different would be to spend more time in the characters' heads. The third-person perspective made it hard for me to connect deeply with the characters, though it's still impressive how complex Tasha Suri's character work was despite the chosen perspective. The POV switching was great and helped to sell the world and the complicated dynamics between characters, but Tasha Suri is a talented enough writer that she could have made the POVs stand out even more with unique voices. Although the narration was omniscient, I still felt a bit removed from the characters, and because of this, the dialogue between characters sometimes came across as stilted and characters sometimes blended together as they had no unique voice or narration style. This is mostly just personal preference and 100% shouldn't deter you from giving this a try.

It took me forever to finish this because it is filled to the brim with information. Even though the information inside is harrowing and shocking, the overall message of the book is hopeful about a way forward. In order to move on from our past, we have to acknowledge it first. There's so much information from the beginning of America to the recent BLM movement, with knowledge that is often hidden away or ignored. A must-read.

It's a classic for a reason. Attacks the legacy of racism and ponders ideas about how we can come together to move forward. James Baldwin also assesses the intersections of race with things like religion and politics. I wish it were longer, it's really just two essays.

Just fine. The lasagna method is really interesting but only the first 23 pages talk about the method. The rest of the book focuses on different types of plants' growing conditions with the author's suggestions of which plants to group together to make an attractive garden which I didn't really care about. This book was probably incredibly useful before Google.

Good info but I didn't feel like it was necessary to read the whole book with the sheer amount of information available online. I didn't actually gain any more knowledge from the book. But if you haven't read anything about gardening and prefer physical books over online research it's definitely a great resource. I appreciated the section about community gardens and how they can help communities but the author was a tiny bit insensitive with how he presented the information (ie suggesting involving cops to patrol community gardens in "poor communities")

Good primer but nothing too crazy, didn't have a lot of details but gave me a good starting point