The design and UX isn't done, Rob and Abbie, okkurrrr! š
rd_pires's review against another edition
3.0
This book was marketed as the author's first collection of fiction intended for a gay, male audience. I don't know whether he is gay himself, but Brenchley seems to have a pretty stereotypical view of who gay men are. One or two stories set this way would've been fine, I understand stereotypes, but their persistence over the course of the stories bothered me.
According to this collection, gay men/relationships come in a few forms:
1. A group of men gathered around a dying, bedridden queen (implied that it's AIDS of course)
or
2. In a relationship that can only be defined as pedophilia
There are very few exceptions. Again, I could've looked past a couple instances of these stereotypes, but their consistency in every story was a drawback for me. One which, as a gay man who has had to contend with battling these stereotypes all his life, I couldn't get past.
According to this collection, gay men/relationships come in a few forms:
1. A group of men gathered around a dying, bedridden queen (implied that it's AIDS of course)
or
2. In a relationship that can only be defined as pedophilia
There are very few exceptions. Again, I could've looked past a couple instances of these stereotypes, but their consistency in every story was a drawback for me. One which, as a gay man who has had to contend with battling these stereotypes all his life, I couldn't get past.
tau's review against another edition
0.25
The audiobook narrator is so bad, either pretentious or mumbling in such a low voice I can't pick out a single word. I did manage to pick out a couple of stories though, and did not care for them at all. What can I say, I never sympathized with the narrator of Lolita, either, but at least that story has it's fascination.
Moderate: Adult/minor relationship
apostrophen's review against another edition
I need to start this with a confession: I bought Bitter Waters because of the cover. Actually, I bought this book twice because of the cover. Once in print and once as an audiobook. As you must know by now, I adore short fiction period, but itās often harder to find in audio form, so when I find a collection in audiobook Iām over-the-moon.
So, confession over.
One of the things about audiobooks, as Iāve said many times before, is the impact the tone of the narrator can have on the story. Some narrate, some perform ā the latter is almost always better ā and Iāve often found myself having a different experience reading a book physically than when I listen to it instead. Iāve only listened to this book so far, but I plan to physically read it thereafter.
All that said, I rather wish Iād skipped the introduction. Thereās two pieces to that, one minor and one major. The minor point is that thereās a bit of a somewhat-spoiler in the introduction for the first story in the collection ā āAnother Chart of the Silences.ā The major point is that, for lack of a better way of putting it, the introductionās tone (again, delivered as an audiobook) came across rather patronizing and really off-putting. Had I not been out on a long walk with dog-leash in hand and my iPhone buried in my pocket, I might have turned it off.
This is by no means my way of telling you to skip the book ā quite the opposite, as Iāll get to in a moment ā but the introduction rubbed me so far the wrong way there was static in what little remains of my hair. Perhaps it was the audio interpretation and performance, but it was like being lectured to from a stuffy parent about how you have no idea what culture is and youāre about to get schooled ā schooled, young man ā in what youāve been missing. So shut up and sit down and behave. Even if thatās true ā and Iām certainly not saying that my experience with the first short story was anything but sublime ā the delivery was just really off.
This introduction did absolutely nothing to entice me in the slightest, and had quite the opposite of the intended effect, Iām sure. So ā and I rarely say this ā Iād suggest reading the introduction later (or, if youāre listening to the audiobook, skip past it and come back to it later).
āAnother Chart of the Silencesā
Oh this story. As is often the case in the best short fiction, the narrative is in itself simple ā a man who sails wishes to make a chart with original period tools of an area that has a vaguely sinister mythological association. In a library, he meets a young man and the two form a connection that is as tangled in loneliness and brittle self-esteem as it is in something ephemerally stronger and potentially disastrous.
I refuse to spoil anything of this story. The first brush with āthe Silencesā is hauntingly written, and the slow spiral to the ending starts as a kind of soft ache that builds to such a tight and anxious swell that I found myself pausing at points in my walk, closing my eyes and just listening to the words of the performer, closing out the rest of my senses to get swept up in the narrative.
Ultimately, the story left me feeling a little haunted, and I daresay that was the intent.
Iām going to pace myself with these stories, I think, and allow myself indulgences over as much time as I can stand to draw it out.
So, confession over.
One of the things about audiobooks, as Iāve said many times before, is the impact the tone of the narrator can have on the story. Some narrate, some perform ā the latter is almost always better ā and Iāve often found myself having a different experience reading a book physically than when I listen to it instead. Iāve only listened to this book so far, but I plan to physically read it thereafter.
All that said, I rather wish Iād skipped the introduction. Thereās two pieces to that, one minor and one major. The minor point is that thereās a bit of a somewhat-spoiler in the introduction for the first story in the collection ā āAnother Chart of the Silences.ā The major point is that, for lack of a better way of putting it, the introductionās tone (again, delivered as an audiobook) came across rather patronizing and really off-putting. Had I not been out on a long walk with dog-leash in hand and my iPhone buried in my pocket, I might have turned it off.
This is by no means my way of telling you to skip the book ā quite the opposite, as Iāll get to in a moment ā but the introduction rubbed me so far the wrong way there was static in what little remains of my hair. Perhaps it was the audio interpretation and performance, but it was like being lectured to from a stuffy parent about how you have no idea what culture is and youāre about to get schooled ā schooled, young man ā in what youāve been missing. So shut up and sit down and behave. Even if thatās true ā and Iām certainly not saying that my experience with the first short story was anything but sublime ā the delivery was just really off.
This introduction did absolutely nothing to entice me in the slightest, and had quite the opposite of the intended effect, Iām sure. So ā and I rarely say this ā Iād suggest reading the introduction later (or, if youāre listening to the audiobook, skip past it and come back to it later).
āAnother Chart of the Silencesā
Oh this story. As is often the case in the best short fiction, the narrative is in itself simple ā a man who sails wishes to make a chart with original period tools of an area that has a vaguely sinister mythological association. In a library, he meets a young man and the two form a connection that is as tangled in loneliness and brittle self-esteem as it is in something ephemerally stronger and potentially disastrous.
I refuse to spoil anything of this story. The first brush with āthe Silencesā is hauntingly written, and the slow spiral to the ending starts as a kind of soft ache that builds to such a tight and anxious swell that I found myself pausing at points in my walk, closing my eyes and just listening to the words of the performer, closing out the rest of my senses to get swept up in the narrative.
Ultimately, the story left me feeling a little haunted, and I daresay that was the intent.
Iām going to pace myself with these stories, I think, and allow myself indulgences over as much time as I can stand to draw it out.
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