wranglerofwords's review against another edition
3.0
Deceit by Yuri Felsen would not be an easy read—I knew that much from the first page. Everything from the distinctively complex prose to the mildly distasteful thoughts that flowed line by line built it up to be a patient and focused read. Thus, I had hope that all this would weave together a work as masterfully impactful as the praise surrounding it claimed. At the end of the 256 pages, I can simply say that it was…serviceable.
Our unnamed narrator, whose thoughts and feelings we get submerged in for the entirety of the book, meets the perfectly lovely Lyolya, and launches into an eager friendship that rapidly moves towards what the narrator would believe to be a romance, and even love. As readers, we can be entirely sure that the situation is anything but. From the very first thoughts of our narrator as he regards Lyolya and her effect on him, and all the way to the last journal entry, the narrator’s shameless deceit in wooing Lyolya, his vulgar commentary on the women that he encounters, and his delusions of himself all combine to form a bold, truthful look into limerence and what it makes of people.
All the same, this thorough look at a man falling through such obsession simply didn’t quite land with me. While I appreciate the honesty of Felsen—who did not in the least bother with including anything a reader could genuinely like—I remain unmoved by the thoughts presented in this novel. They’re not unfounded, by any means, nor are they particularly irrelevant either. After all, it would not be entirely outrageous to point out similar tendencies in our current society’s idea of romance and relationships. I suspect, rather, that my apathy towards the exploration of the novel comes from its presentation. This is my preference, of course: others can and certainly have found it excellent and striking in its own right. I, however, simply cannot terribly appreciate a novel that I couldn’t find my personal connection to. Felsen’s prose potentially got in the way of my empathizing with the narrator here, which in turn, left our protagonist as nothing but an unlikeable, stumbling character in my mind. At the end of 256 pages of emotional turmoil alongside the obsessed narrator, all I can do is shrug.
That is not to say that the prose didn’t have its highlights, though. Quotes such as “the doggish devotion to the hand that pushes it away; the benediction of a tormentress who cares nothing for us; the confession (even if fictitious) of a criminal before a judge who is just and “understands all”; the facelessness of first-rate soldiers, who blend, as it were, into their commanding officer-cum-father; the faith schoolboys hold in the wisdom of a favorite teacher…” captured Felsen’s ability to deliver deeply personal experiences poignantly and poetically. Nonetheless, the prose on the whole was not a great fit for me.
While I didn’t quite appreciate this novel, I didn’t dislike it either. A solid 3 stars from me.
Thank you to Netgalley and Astra House for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Our unnamed narrator, whose thoughts and feelings we get submerged in for the entirety of the book, meets the perfectly lovely Lyolya, and launches into an eager friendship that rapidly moves towards what the narrator would believe to be a romance, and even love. As readers, we can be entirely sure that the situation is anything but. From the very first thoughts of our narrator as he regards Lyolya and her effect on him, and all the way to the last journal entry, the narrator’s shameless deceit in wooing Lyolya, his vulgar commentary on the women that he encounters, and his delusions of himself all combine to form a bold, truthful look into limerence and what it makes of people.
All the same, this thorough look at a man falling through such obsession simply didn’t quite land with me. While I appreciate the honesty of Felsen—who did not in the least bother with including anything a reader could genuinely like—I remain unmoved by the thoughts presented in this novel. They’re not unfounded, by any means, nor are they particularly irrelevant either. After all, it would not be entirely outrageous to point out similar tendencies in our current society’s idea of romance and relationships. I suspect, rather, that my apathy towards the exploration of the novel comes from its presentation. This is my preference, of course: others can and certainly have found it excellent and striking in its own right. I, however, simply cannot terribly appreciate a novel that I couldn’t find my personal connection to. Felsen’s prose potentially got in the way of my empathizing with the narrator here, which in turn, left our protagonist as nothing but an unlikeable, stumbling character in my mind. At the end of 256 pages of emotional turmoil alongside the obsessed narrator, all I can do is shrug.
That is not to say that the prose didn’t have its highlights, though. Quotes such as “the doggish devotion to the hand that pushes it away; the benediction of a tormentress who cares nothing for us; the confession (even if fictitious) of a criminal before a judge who is just and “understands all”; the facelessness of first-rate soldiers, who blend, as it were, into their commanding officer-cum-father; the faith schoolboys hold in the wisdom of a favorite teacher…” captured Felsen’s ability to deliver deeply personal experiences poignantly and poetically. Nonetheless, the prose on the whole was not a great fit for me.
While I didn’t quite appreciate this novel, I didn’t dislike it either. A solid 3 stars from me.
Thank you to Netgalley and Astra House for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
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