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A review by carly_mckenna
Kokomo by Victoria Hannan
2.0
It was not her heart, she realised, but her phone vibrating against an empty, forever-yellowed Tupperware container in her bag. “Leave it”, Jack said, the darkness of love in his voice.
This poorly written excerpt on Kokomo’s back cover should have sent alarm bells ringing for me, much like its opening pages.
The novel begins with a near-sexual encounter that sounds like it’s written from the perspective of a 16 year old girl. The protagonist’s poetic ode to an erect penis becomes even more bizarre when you realise that she is actually 32 years old.
I pushed through, hoping that this novel would go on to explore the complex dynamics of mother-daughter relationships, agoraphobia and related mental health issues. Instead, it gave a cringeworthy account of unrequited crushes and melodramatic longings.
In a vein similar to Jessie Tu’s A Lonely Girl is a Dangerous Thing, this book was surrounded by hype. I just didn't get it.
This poorly written excerpt on Kokomo’s back cover should have sent alarm bells ringing for me, much like its opening pages.
The novel begins with a near-sexual encounter that sounds like it’s written from the perspective of a 16 year old girl. The protagonist’s poetic ode to an erect penis becomes even more bizarre when you realise that she is actually 32 years old.
I pushed through, hoping that this novel would go on to explore the complex dynamics of mother-daughter relationships, agoraphobia and related mental health issues. Instead, it gave a cringeworthy account of unrequited crushes and melodramatic longings.
In a vein similar to Jessie Tu’s A Lonely Girl is a Dangerous Thing, this book was surrounded by hype. I just didn't get it.