​The Kenyon Review May/June 2022 is a collection of prose and poetry that looks at life after the pandemic and in relation to nature. This issue had some intricate stories, namely, ‘The Arm of the Lord’, by David Crouse, and ‘Burning’, by Uche Okonkwo. Some of the poetry that captured me was, ‘Escape & Energy’, by Brenda Hillman, and ‘Mercy Me’, by Corrie Williamson.
 
Though the story that I felt was the strongest was ‘Happy Is a Doing Word’, by Arinze Ifeakandu which follows two boys who are learning about themselves and their queerness in relation to the rest of their community. I loved the way the voice of the story bleeds through the pages, and how the anger, frustration, sadness, and joy play out as the boys are outed to their parents and friends. It is a captivating story that worked to give dimension to queer experience.
 
Final Rating: 4/5

​Telling the Bees by Faith Shearin is a collection of poems that processes and recounts the relationships she has with her dog, her daughter, her parents, and with herself. While there were moments of intrigue, especially in the poems ‘Scurvy’, ‘Telling the Bees’, ‘Floods and Fires’, and ‘Dust’, the rest of the collection felt like it lacked depth. This can be seen in poems such as ‘Rewind’ which was about watching movies in rewind and wanting to be younger. Though, the poem didn’t go any further than that, and I would’ve liked to see a specific moment which was rewound or dug deeper as to why she wanted to be younger. I was also a little apprehensive about the poems ‘Lizzie Borden’ and ‘Typhoid Mary’ which both seemed to lay out what each person did wrong, but ultimately created an empathetic image in the end. This unsettled me, which may have been what Shearin was going for, but both seemed to be outliers in their sentiments in the collection. Overall, the collection didn’t feel specific/granular enough.
 
Final Rating: 2.5/5

​The October 2005 issue of Poetry contains mostly mediocre poems with a few shining lights. This issue felt like it relied too heavily on poems that fit within rigid rhyming schemes (which isn’t in itself bad, but it more or less felt stale). Though, I thoroughly enjoyed the poems by J.D. Whitney and Amit Majmudar. I was particularly fond of the poem ‘The Miscarriage’ by Amit Majmudar which ended on the lines, “our bodies folded shut our bodies closed/around hope like a book preserving petals/a book we did not open till the morning when/we found hope dry and brittle but intact”.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​Beasts of a Little Land by Juhea Kim is a novel which analyzes Japan’s rule of Korea using interweaving characters and shows how the people there dealt with turmoil. The main character the novel focuses on is Jade, who is sold to a brothel to be raised as courtesan. Along the way, she meets her lifelong friend, becomes a famous actress, witnesses brutal acts by the Japanese soldiers, and falls in love. The rest of the characters seem to revolve around Jade, from JungHo and HanChol vying for her love, to her foster aunt Dani, to the Japanese officers, to her friend Lotus. The novel is a rich tapestry of political alliances, lovers, friends, and conflicts that arise in a country under the forceful rule of an intruder.
 
I was particularly drawn to the recurring themes and metaphors of the tiger, which was seen as both mystical and, to the Japanese, something to be conquered. I loved the way Kim paralleled the way the treatment of the tigers was reflected in the treatment of the Korean people. Additionally, its prologue which began with a hunt for an animal, was brought up in moments of intensity between Ito and JungHo, and Yamada’s death in the snow dappled forest. There was a tightness to the flow if the story, and I found myself quite intrigued with JungHo’s plotline. Though, I felt that the use of first person in the beginning of part two and the epilogue didn’t seem to capture the same magic the rest of the book did. I understand why (to show the intimacy of JungHo and Jade’s connection) but it didn’t feel as strong. Overall, I felt that this novel worked to convey the brutality of the Japanese, the beginnings of love, and what it meant to live in Korea during the occupation.
 
Final Rating: 4/5

Normal People by Sally Rooney is a novel about a budding relationship between Marianne and Connell which spans three years and multiple relationships. The novel doesn’t follow a strong plot, and so is guided mostly by conversations, parties, and dates. It is pushed forward by the constant feeling of will Marianne and Connell be together or won’t they.
 
I preface my discussion about Normal People by saying that I am not the book’s intended audience (i.e. white middle class women). I generally find stories that cannot emotionally or physically drive characters forward to be stale and uninteresting. While things surely do happen in the novel, things feel loosely linked.
 
In other reviews and discussions of the book, people have praised Rooney’s style and prose. Though, this never really made any sense to me because her phrases feel clunky with little information conveyed. For example, on page 31 she writes, “Instead everyone has to pretend not to notice that their social lives are arranged hierarchically, with certain people at the top, some jostling at mid-level, and others lower down.” This sentence could’ve ended at “hierarchically”, as it is implied that there are people at the top, middle, and bottom. Sentences like this are not outliers and are so common, it feels like most of what I read was fluff.
 
Another aspect I felt was lacking was the way Rooney approaches social class dynamics between Marianne and Connell. In this instance, Marianne is the rich one with the distant mother (a tired trope) while Connell is the poor one whose mother works for Marianne’s mother. Though, beyond this initial setup and the heavy-handed discussions of Communism, there is little consideration of money as a driving factor. Yes, it is shown that Connell has to work jobs and leave college once because he can’t afford it, but these moments are tossed aside and rarely considered after. For example, if Connell is meant to be the one without money, then why does he, as opposed to Marianne, drive a car? Why is, in the consideration of college, little attention paid towards the stresses of having to pay for tuition? If Rooney were to truly consider what it means to come from few means, this book would need to dig deeper into these types of institutional barriers.
 
And as an aside, from page 162 it describes Connell thinking about writing. “In his little gray journal he wrote recently: idea for a story told through email? Then he crossed it out, deciding it was gimmicky.” Though, this confuses me because in her following book Beautiful World, Where Are You, Rooney uses email as a way to push her story forward. I just can’t wrap my head around the inconsistency of this logic.
 
Overall, this novel was deeply lacking in its use of language and meaning. Small things that also felt odd was the absent use of quotations or dialogue syntax, always drinking tea/coffee/wine, odd use of past and present tenses, grating sex scenes, and dull descriptions. I felt like I was reading a book that had no zest/character/spice.
 
Final Rating: 1.5/5

​The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa is a speculative fiction novel that tackles a world in which memory is controlled by an outside force and is able to make things disappear. Ogawa intricately weaves moments of fragility with those of resistance as the island begins to unravel into a void of being forgotten. The narrator, a novelist, has lost her mother and begins to find meaning in keeping secret her editor who is able to remember events/things. As the Memory Police continue to crack down on what exists and what is forgotten, the narrator loses her best friend, her job, and eventually her own body. I was impressed with the way the story the narrator is writing parallels what she is experiencing up until the last moments. Both characters lose themselves, but one keeps her voice. Though, in the end, both characters disappear all the same.
 
Ogawa works to question authority, namely, who has the authority to determine what disappears and what doesn’t, who is affected by the disappearances (the Memory Police isn’t), and why those in position are able to create such a culture of loss. Ogawa seems to be challenging current forms of policing and seems to elicit scenes of those hiding Jews during World War II. I enjoyed the way she describes the disappearances, and that cliff of disconnection with the editor. And the overall effect is this eeriness that blankets every action and description.
 
Final Rating: 4/5

The Iowa Review Spring 2021 is a collection of poetry, nonfiction, and fiction published by the University of Iowa. This issue heavily focused on the voices of veterans within its fiction portion. There were some bright spots in the issue, namely ‘Coelacanth’ by Ellis Scott, ‘The Lantern’ by Greg Wrenn, and ‘Routes’ by David Lombardi. These stories, at least, felt authentic with unique voices and twinges of queerness that I felt like I could relate to.

​However, I was deeply disappointed with the rest of the pieces featured. Many of the stories written by and about veterans carried with them a staleness like in ‘Where’s Charlie?’ by Erik Cederblom. The story relied too deeply on the narrative of the prideful and just America, that all nuance was lost. No new ground felt like it was trod since many of the stories featured white male protagonists and didn’t critically view America’s actions as it related to war. The enemy was generally vilified and the only story to critically think about the military, ‘He Said, She Said’ by Jerri Bell, eventually fell in line with that narrative at the end. I was also not impressed at the poem ‘Dire Offense’ by Mark Levine as it seemed to become incoherent with a nonsensical stanza listing random nouns. It dragged on far too long and also relied too heavily on an unconventional rhyming scheme. Overall, I expected a more critical issue.
 
Final Rating: 2.5/5

​The Song of Achilles is a novel by Madeline Miller that focuses on the relationship between Achilles and his gay lover Patroclus before and during the siege of Troy. Miller takes from the source material of the Iliad and works in a deeply powerful mortal relationship not often written about in Greek mythology. The relationship been Achilles and Patroclus is written naturally and fluidly to offer a look into their budding understanding of each other. It’s a heartfelt, and at times, moving piece that works in Greek legend, the human condition, and a history that has been long overlooked. It was crafted in a way that let me ease into the work of Ancient Greece without being shocked. I also appreciated the relationship cultured between Patroclus and his father and Achilles and Thetis.
 
Final Rating: 4.5/5

​American Short Fiction Issue 74 is a collection of short stories that deals in the strange and sometimes overlooked parts of the world. The characters in ‘After Hours at the Acacia Pool’ by Kirstin Valdez Quade, ‘Transit’ by Morgan Thomas, and ‘Sissies’ by hurmat kazmi are all seen as weird and different in the worlds around them. I am particularly fascinated with both ‘Transit’ and ‘Sissies’ whose language and moments feel right in the bizarre contexts they are within. I don’t often read a collection of short stories and find quality in each piece.
 
Final Rating: 4/5

​Searching for Sylvie Lee is a novel by Jean Kwok which focuses on the disappearance and death of the character Sylvie Lee in the Netherlands. It is split into three narratives: the mother, Amy who is the sister, and Sylvie Lee before she goes missing. I found the threads of Asian themes worked well to show the alienation and distancing that Asians face in other countries. And I felt that the story was elegant in continuing to hold tension about Sylvie’s death up until the last moments. The reports, phone calls, messages, and emails felt natural in the novel and worked to vary the way the story was told. I enjoyed the drama, suspense, and action that existed, but I felt there were a few things that didn’t work as well.
 
First, I think that the thread that follows the mother is too static and acts to slow down and work against the narrative. For the majority of the story, up until the last chapter where the mother is the narrator, nothing happens to her or there isn’t a driving force for her. I think Kwok may have also realized this too as the chapters with the mother are barely three pages long each. There isn’t much ground covered in those moments, and so I didn’t feel personally attached to the character. And while I realize that she can’t speak English well, I didn’t think the intentional use of improper grammar worked to enliven the character. If anything, the grammar forced the mother character into an Asian stereotype. I would’ve liked to either have seen more of the mother in moments with Willem or her own struggles, or taken her narrative thread out altogether. The only thing that would require reworking is her reveal about her affair with Willem, but that could just be added in as dialogue.
 
I had initially enjoyed the sayings that all the characters used that acted as direct metaphors to the situations, but I felt that there were far too many. The metaphors lost all their subtly and felt far too heavy-handed. For example, the lines, “’You guys are bad influences. Those who associate with dogs get fleas,’” are redundant even though one is a metaphor. It would make sense to me if only a single character said these lines, but the grandmother, mother, Amy, and Sylvie all say them at one point, and so it felt like their meanings were deluded.
 
Overall, I enjoyed the suspense and the drama that unfolded in the novel. Generally, the weaving of the narratives held up, and I found myself reading that last hundred pages in a sprint. Though, the novel doesn’t come without its faults, which I felt worked to slow down the pace and box in certain characters.
 
Final Rating: 3/5