Reviews tagging 'Body shaming'

Night Shoot by David Sodergren

2 reviews

michloue's review

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dark tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

4.0

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jonssweater's review

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dark fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot
  • Strong character development? No
  • Loveable characters? No
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? No
Spoilers throughout this review. Long and short: don’t waste your time.

Despite trying to satirise pretentious wannabe artists and the camp of 80’s horror cinema, this book fails to garner any genuine interest in an actual narrative outside of exhaustingly dull adolescent dialogue and needlessly ostentatious gore descriptions. No one character here is truly interesting, let alone likeable; all are cookie cutter archetypes with undeveloped prose in lieu of personalities to fill the pages. 

Without actually expanding or exploring the concept of a character like Claire and her potential narrative value – the terror of being an abandoned and abused child with an apparently alcoholic father who has a sexual interest in his own daughter and enacts violence towards her, the Claire character barely lasts five pages before a brutal death that doesn’t actually leave an effect upon the reader because the simple fact of the matter is: no one cares.

Not the readers, scanning through each word and chapter looking for something to actually give them a reason to continue on (other than being a completionist), and obviously not the characters. This is the book’s largest flaw, above all attempts at social commentary or witty summations about modern youth culture and the dangers of toxic relationships that this novel tries to beat you over the head with like its killers to their victims.

This is not a love letter to a diverse and fascinating genre like horror. It is a lazy, half-hearted attempt at satirising a genuinely interesting subdivision of horror that Sodergren proudly describes as “trashy” – going beyond the pale of blatant ignorance and nose-diving directly into abject, unnecessary and unsolicited mockery. 

In his afterword, the same segment of the novel where the flippant “trashy” judgement is found, Sodergren also writes “if I’m starting to sound like Robert Crawford[…]” which is where I’d prefer to stop quoting him. This pretentious screed, this book I dare to call it even thought I instinctively don’t want to because that is seriously an insult to every other book I’ve ever read, is exactly what I would expect from that archetypal shadow of a character. The irony is beyond frustrating.

I’d like to keep this review brief because this book has wasted enough of my time and energy, so the last thing I’ll mention is this exchange between Sandy (the love interest of the protagonist) and Gordon (a character who’s only service to the narrative is that he’s one of the only male characters that doesn’t erect any obvious signs of bigotry or exploitive tendencies (I won’t make a ‘not all men’ criticism, even though that is the impression Sodergren implies with the use of this character) who also happens to have a crush on the unavailable lesbian main character) that genuinely enraged me – for both its motivations behind the exchange and obvious ignorance and flippant attitude of the writer behind it.

For context, Gordon has just learned that Elspeth and Sandy are both together romantically. 
‘'I've heard rumours, but I never thought they were true.
She doesn't, y 'know..’
'What? Look like a lesbian?'
Gordon chuckled. Yeah, I think that's what I was going to say. Sorry.'
That's okay. We don't all wear dungarees and have crew cuts, Gordon. It's 2019.'
'I know, I know. I'm sorry.’’

Why is this line necessary? All it serves as is to be a needlessly butchphobic comment that will never be challenged or addressed again within this novel. Apparently, the only thing it does have use for is royally offending me on behalf of every butch queer woman I know.

I pose these questions to any who happen to read this review, but more pointedly at David Sodergren. What, exactly, is wrong or – I suppose this may have also been a possible intention behind this exchange – humourous about wearing dungarees or having a crew cut as a lesbian? Is that something only men are allowed to do? Why is that funny? Is it even supposed to be? What’s so noteworthy about reminding the readers that these two lesbian characters are as desirable under the patriarchy as any ‘normal’ woman – any who conform to the status quo of femininity so as to not offend any delicate gender essentialists’ ideals of what is means to be a woman in a society that only values you enough to not be ridiculed or looked down upon provided you do not counter this patriarchal culture of ‘women being women and men being men’ in any way whatsoever or step out of line even in something so cosmically unimportant as how you happen to dress or style your hair? What’s the actual point of it?

The ignorance genuinely astounds, in accordance with this valueless line, as well as the ignorance to craft a compelling narrative that won’t bore a majority to tears – but those are the only things about this book that will astound me.
 

I finish off with this, because truthfully I am tired of this novel taking up any more of my time: do not waste yours with it.
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