lindy_b's review against another edition
3.0
I read Eyes preceding Camera which I think would be the far more interesting way to experience the two interlocking novellas. Merits rereading at some point, probably.
kabarton416's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
chirson's review against another edition
5.0
The first 20-30 pages of this novel were difficult for me. I had to get adjusted to the style (especially since my edition starts with Francescho) and submerge fully, and I am not a diver by nature: faced with a cold lake, I very slowly dip a toe in and then take half an hour to reach the knees.
But then, once I got through the first hurdle and immersed, what a joy, such weightlessness.
I don't really feel up to writing a full review; it would take seven pages and this many hours, and even I have New Year's plans. So let me just say a few things:
1. This is doubtlessly a stylistic achievement of the highest order. It's probably not really common knowledge, but I... don't often use the word "ekphrasis" without a small ironic smile of derision that says: taste is a marker of class. Well, colour me converted. This book makes ekphrasis work. It works with art and through art to be art and I loved it. It's an ambitious work and it requires a commitment from the reader, but the returns are high*, and despite this ambition, it is not pretentious. Well, maybe a little in love with its own beauty, but I can't really blame it, because I was, too.
*This is the second time today I've used an economics metaphor about a book... this is what happens when one marathons Billions over the Xmas break.
2. It is a kind book. Such a deeply, profoundly kind novel. It is also a novel about grieving that manages to avoid all the pitfalls of its topic. It is not maudlin, or self-involved, or sentimental, or heartless, or depressing.
3. I've never seen anything like it [...]. It's so warm it's almost friendly. A friendly work of art. [...] And look at it. It's never sentimental. It' generous, but it's sardonic too. And whenever it's sardonic, a moment later it's generous again. (p. 240 in my edition) -- interestingly enough, it's almost word for word how I was feeling about this novel as I was reading.
4. I want to re-read it in reverse in a few years. I want to push it on everyone I know so they can read it too (though I can understand that it's not everyone's thing).
5. (And bear with me here, this is my culture studies background and foreground speaking.) I loved how the refusal of duality suffuses this work. It's a basis of so much of human thinking to categorize by opposition and refusal, thus entering the realm of grief. To be one thing is not to be another thing; to abandon shadow lives we might have led, selves we might have been, to choose and choose again and thus lose what we do not choose (but perhaps to hold its absence forever inside us). Writing a book about being both rather than either (in so many ways) had to be about grief. And it was, and just the right way. I'm so grateful to have found this book.
But then, once I got through the first hurdle and immersed, what a joy, such weightlessness.
I don't really feel up to writing a full review; it would take seven pages and this many hours, and even I have New Year's plans. So let me just say a few things:
1. This is doubtlessly a stylistic achievement of the highest order. It's probably not really common knowledge, but I... don't often use the word "ekphrasis" without a small ironic smile of derision that says: taste is a marker of class. Well, colour me converted. This book makes ekphrasis work. It works with art and through art to be art and I loved it. It's an ambitious work and it requires a commitment from the reader, but the returns are high*, and despite this ambition, it is not pretentious. Well, maybe a little in love with its own beauty, but I can't really blame it, because I was, too.
*This is the second time today I've used an economics metaphor about a book... this is what happens when one marathons Billions over the Xmas break.
2. It is a kind book. Such a deeply, profoundly kind novel. It is also a novel about grieving that manages to avoid all the pitfalls of its topic. It is not maudlin, or self-involved, or sentimental, or heartless, or depressing.
3. I've never seen anything like it [...]. It's so warm it's almost friendly. A friendly work of art. [...] And look at it. It's never sentimental. It' generous, but it's sardonic too. And whenever it's sardonic, a moment later it's generous again. (p. 240 in my edition) -- interestingly enough, it's almost word for word how I was feeling about this novel as I was reading.
4. I want to re-read it in reverse in a few years. I want to push it on everyone I know so they can read it too (though I can understand that it's not everyone's thing).
5. (And bear with me here, this is my culture studies background and foreground speaking.) I loved how the refusal of duality suffuses this work. It's a basis of so much of human thinking to categorize by opposition and refusal, thus entering the realm of grief. To be one thing is not to be another thing; to abandon shadow lives we might have led, selves we might have been, to choose and choose again and thus lose what we do not choose (but perhaps to hold its absence forever inside us). Writing a book about being both rather than either (in so many ways) had to be about grief. And it was, and just the right way. I'm so grateful to have found this book.
readingwithhippos's review
3.0
I almost chickened out on reading this book.
I got my much-anticipated library copy, opened to the first page, saw some really scary-looking free-form verse, and chose another book to read instead.
But then the due date was fast approaching, and I couldn't let myself give in to fear and return it without even trying. I decided I would at least give it a few pages and see how it went. After all, I was an English major, dammit! Who are experimental novels meant for, if not weirdos and masochists like me?
And wouldn't you know it, after just a handful of pages the style settled down into something a little more accessible and I was sucked right into the story.
Or stories, rather, as How to Be Both is sort of two novels in one. One half is set in the 1400s and is about the artist Francescho del Cossa; the other half takes place in present day Britain and follows a teenage girl named George as she tries to make sense of her mother's sudden death. Some copies of the book are printed with del Cossa's story first, while others open with George's story. (Isn't that cool?! I have to admit, knowing that my experience of reading the novel would be different depending on which copy I happened to get was the main reason I was so interested in the book to begin with.)
I think because I knew about the gimmicky publishing quirk, I expected the book itself to be a bit gimmicky, so I was surprised and a little disheartened at how much effort I had to put into the reading. I adore books with repeating motifs and little connections from one section to another, so going in I expected the two halves of How to Be Both to click together a bit more snugly than they do. Sure, there is an impressive amount of overlap between the stories, especially considering how far apart they are in terms of geography and time, but I was expecting a big aha, rabbit out of the hat moment at the end of the second section, and that just didn't happen. In this case, I would have been better off to have read a lot less about the book before attempting it, as my unmet expectations tempered my enjoyment.
So I'll skip any further plot summary in hopes of saving you from the same reading fate. I'll just say that this book is a challenge with subtle rewards. The way Smith plays with gender, time, memory, and the structure of the novel itself is like nothing I've encountered before.
More book recommendations by me at www.readingwithhippos.com
I got my much-anticipated library copy, opened to the first page, saw some really scary-looking free-form verse, and chose another book to read instead.
But then the due date was fast approaching, and I couldn't let myself give in to fear and return it without even trying. I decided I would at least give it a few pages and see how it went. After all, I was an English major, dammit! Who are experimental novels meant for, if not weirdos and masochists like me?
And wouldn't you know it, after just a handful of pages the style settled down into something a little more accessible and I was sucked right into the story.
Or stories, rather, as How to Be Both is sort of two novels in one. One half is set in the 1400s and is about the artist Francescho del Cossa; the other half takes place in present day Britain and follows a teenage girl named George as she tries to make sense of her mother's sudden death. Some copies of the book are printed with del Cossa's story first, while others open with George's story. (Isn't that cool?! I have to admit, knowing that my experience of reading the novel would be different depending on which copy I happened to get was the main reason I was so interested in the book to begin with.)
I think because I knew about the gimmicky publishing quirk, I expected the book itself to be a bit gimmicky, so I was surprised and a little disheartened at how much effort I had to put into the reading. I adore books with repeating motifs and little connections from one section to another, so going in I expected the two halves of How to Be Both to click together a bit more snugly than they do. Sure, there is an impressive amount of overlap between the stories, especially considering how far apart they are in terms of geography and time, but I was expecting a big aha, rabbit out of the hat moment at the end of the second section, and that just didn't happen. In this case, I would have been better off to have read a lot less about the book before attempting it, as my unmet expectations tempered my enjoyment.
So I'll skip any further plot summary in hopes of saving you from the same reading fate. I'll just say that this book is a challenge with subtle rewards. The way Smith plays with gender, time, memory, and the structure of the novel itself is like nothing I've encountered before.
More book recommendations by me at www.readingwithhippos.com
frogwithlittlehammer's review against another edition
emotional
mysterious
reflective
4.75
More like How To Transcend the Novel!!!!!! I am always awed when writers are able to do something I’ve never read before on the page (and slay bc usually it’s a woman 🧎🏻♀️). On top of creating a literary fresco that tethers two different lifelines across oceans and eras and specters, I realized upon reading reviews that the order of the novellas changes with every copy of the book. Francesco’s part appeared first for me and I don’t know what would have been preferred but how magical that that order was deigned to me. I will have to read more of Ali Smith in the future.
kdominey's review against another edition
challenging
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.0
inesjrdias's review against another edition
3.0
Este livro aborda o género, a arte, o luto, o ser e outros temas de uma maneira muito interessante, ao mesmo tempo que entrelaça duas histórias. Apesar de as temáticas serem bem exploradas e as personagens serem cativantes, o estilo de escrita tornou um pouco difícil a sua compreensão e, em algumas partes, tornou a leitura pouco prazerosa.
megklaughtland's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5