In an attempt to offer a less popular interpretation to the Me Too phenomenon, Vladimir puts together the ideas of the Red Scare Podcast hosts and caters them in the voice of a late middle aged woman who is caught in the middle of such scandal. But the voice of the protagonist does not match the ideas that the author is trying to copy and some of the monologues feel awkward and lazy (the narrator loves to say how much she hates her students because they're social justice warriors... Okay 50 year old university teacher!). But as devoid of originality as this book was, I see a lot of potential in the writing style. It has a fanfic type of grip while also being meditative.
This books is advertised as being about loss and suffering, but most of it was Didion remembering the name of the restaurants she went to with her husband before his death, the houses they owned, the places they traveled. Very charmless and cold book.
Very well delivered horror. The thing that bothered me was that the stories would end abruptly when there was a lot of potential in a lot of them. It felt like the author got bored and decided to end them with a single sentence. My favorite short stories: The Cart, Where Are You Dear Heart?
I heard myself ask, putting your fingers exactly the way someone put hers only she’s been dead for a few hundred years? Louise smiled, as if it was fine for me to join in. Not to me, she said, not anymore, anyway, I’m always trying to do what dead people tell me. And especially when I’m making a replica, spending days looking at and feeling and listening to some prehistoric object, I’m kind of trying to think their thoughts too. I mean, it would make sense, wouldn’t it, that when I really concentrate on the spaces between decorative dots or the exact tension of a twist, my mind’s doing what their minds did while my hands do what their hands did. I sometimes think I can tell when two pieces from the same site were made by the same prehistoric person, because the way my hands move is the same.