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moneyispizza's review against another edition
hopeful
reflective
relaxing
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
4.5
ankellogg's review against another edition
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.5
alexaisreading's review against another edition
adventurous
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5
zefrog's review against another edition
dark
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
Skyland is structured as a series of fragmentary entries taken from the author's diary, a little like Instagram snapshots, where all is not quite as it appears. They tells of a fairly uneventful trip to the Greek island of Patmos taken by two friends. They are in search of a hypothetical painting of French author Hervé Guibert by Yannis Tsarouchis. The novella, a piece of autofiction, a genre of which Guibert was a zealous proponent himself, could easily crumble under the weight of the monotony it depicts and lose momentum. But the heroes' quest does keep the narrative going until the end.
Greece (and the past) is presented as a non-space, seemingly cut off from the world thanks to its lack of proper internet access, filled only by inertia and a vague sense of dread. Meanwhile, back in the US, the sun is eclipsed and fascists kill people in the streets with the approval of the President.
But sun-stunned Greece is not the benign refuge Durbin, with his elegant and smooth observations, is leading the reader to think it is. Below the polished surface of a languid summer holiday, the book is infused with a vague sense of malaise, and the “outside” world, marching history and just plain meanness are at work there too, as we are reminded when Shiv is taken for an illegal migrant simply because of his skin colour.
Durbin himself is quite careless and, as a character observes, not “nice”, not least with his boyfriend back at home, but even with his hook-up, or with his friend, Shiv, whose experience of racism is he seems to dismiss and belittle, while also arguabl resenting his sex-positive attitude.
Guibert was a transgressive author and man, so it is not a little ironic that Durbin, in the end, should be so bourgeois and conservative in his outlook. He remarks on and criticizes the conservative attitudes of the autochtones, but renounces his only chance at transgression: nudity. Something he can’t explain himself.
The ending is as anti-climactic as it could be. In literature, a journey usually allows the protagonist to grow, learn something about himself or about the world but the author/narrator, together with the reader, ends up stranded on an emptying beach at the fag-end of the holiday season, not even gone full circle to New York, where the book begins.
Ultimately nothing really happens in the book and, despite Durbin’s protestations to the contrary (“This isn’t quite the grand, unfurling cliché of travel—‘what matters is the journey, not the destination’—since all I want is a destination, an end point. No cheap Norwegian Air flight matters more than its arrival city.”), it does feel very much like it is the journey that matters here. There is no end point.
Admittedly it is a surprisingly engaging and seductive journey but there is a dark undertone to those lazily sun-drenched pages that can easily be overlooked.
Greece (and the past) is presented as a non-space, seemingly cut off from the world thanks to its lack of proper internet access, filled only by inertia and a vague sense of dread. Meanwhile, back in the US, the sun is eclipsed and fascists kill people in the streets with the approval of the President.
But sun-stunned Greece is not the benign refuge Durbin, with his elegant and smooth observations, is leading the reader to think it is. Below the polished surface of a languid summer holiday, the book is infused with a vague sense of malaise, and the “outside” world, marching history and just plain meanness are at work there too, as we are reminded when Shiv is taken for an illegal migrant simply because of his skin colour.
Durbin himself is quite careless and, as a character observes, not “nice”, not least with his boyfriend back at home, but even with his hook-up, or with his friend, Shiv, whose experience of racism is he seems to dismiss and belittle, while also arguabl resenting his sex-positive attitude.
Guibert was a transgressive author and man, so it is not a little ironic that Durbin, in the end, should be so bourgeois and conservative in his outlook. He remarks on and criticizes the conservative attitudes of the autochtones, but renounces his only chance at transgression: nudity. Something he can’t explain himself.
The ending is as anti-climactic as it could be. In literature, a journey usually allows the protagonist to grow, learn something about himself or about the world but the author/narrator, together with the reader, ends up stranded on an emptying beach at the fag-end of the holiday season, not even gone full circle to New York, where the book begins.
Ultimately nothing really happens in the book and, despite Durbin’s protestations to the contrary (“This isn’t quite the grand, unfurling cliché of travel—‘what matters is the journey, not the destination’—since all I want is a destination, an end point. No cheap Norwegian Air flight matters more than its arrival city.”), it does feel very much like it is the journey that matters here. There is no end point.
Admittedly it is a surprisingly engaging and seductive journey but there is a dark undertone to those lazily sun-drenched pages that can easily be overlooked.
jcr610's review
5.0
This is a lovely novella and a perfect summer read. One review I read seemed to suggest it would be a scattered series of fragments, but I found it tightly structured and really appreciated how the singular focus on finding a maybe-nonexistent painting of Herve Guibert allowed for rich detail and asides along the way. I also loved Durbin's MacArthur Park, which had a meandering focus more akin to other autofictional exercises. But this felt both more traditional (like Death in Venice if the boy were a painting) and also fresher, taking poetical autofiction in a new direction. Durbin has a great way of creating a sensual mood. Desire is the climate, not just something tied specifically to sex scenes or romance. I breezed through this on a lazy afternoon, pausing to search for pictures of the Cave of the Apocalypse, Patmos, and Herve Guibert. It was a great way to feel connected with the world even as I won't be able to go to the Greek islands/anywhere anytime soon.
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