For one of my final days in Singapore, my aunt and I decided to attend a tea ceremony.
My aunt knows all about my love of tea, which some might call an obsession (I have an entire tea cabinet) and so we set out to learn what it takes to have a proper tea party.
We went to “Teahouse by Yixing Xuan,” for a private tea lesson, in which I learned more about tea than I ever thought possible, like how all tea contains caffeine, including caffeine-free tea, because of how it grows in nature, and that white tea is often in skincare products due to its skin benefits. The takeaway was clear: drink white tea if you want to delay the aging process and only drink tea if you want to stay up at night.
The instructor walked us through a traditional tea ceremony while we ate dumplings. We watched as he strained hot water through loose leaf tea in an almost mesmerizing display and then we got to partake on the tea that we made. I was able to practice being the one to pour and make the tea until I felt ready to repeat the steps with my daily tea.
After that we stopped for ice cream at a place called, “Birds of Paradise.” They specialize in unique ice cream flavors, which is how I ended up having chrysanthemum-flavored ice cream, a sweet, but not too sweet treat that I cannot recommend enough.
I spent some time that afternoon at the Asian Civilization Museum, learning about Asia’s history from the silk road to the opium wars, and all of the major world events that I learned about in AP world history class.
We ended our day by going to the Van Gogh immersive experience, a traveling art show that projects Van Gogh’s artwork while a narrator tells you about his life. You’re bathed in the artwork until you feel like you’re a part of it, soaking up the paint. It’s calming in a way that you wouldn’t expect, lulling you to sleep if you’re not careful. We learned about Van Gogh’s life, while mixed in with his stars and sunflowers.
Overall, it was a nice day of sipping tea, eating ice cream, and staring at art. What could be better?
Shortly thereafter, we called it a day, so that we could prepare for our trip to Indonesia the next day. More on that later.
–My grandfather who was drunk and also in a bad mood
I have been to many great art museums around the world and had a host of different experiences: The Ufizi– got told to move out of the way of the Birth of Venus painting by a man in a tour group who probably doesn’t support women; the Musée d’Orsay– was yelled at in French by a security guard who probably was telling me not to lean over the edge of the balcony so that I wouldn’t fall to my death; The Metropolitan Museum of Art– once watched Dracula there (1937) and a black and white German expressionist vampire film for some reason; The Guggenheim– got dizzy walking up it; MoMA– went to it during the pride parade in Chelsea and saw it in its fullest of glory; The Louvre– took a photo of the most photographed painting in the world
Of all of the art museums I have been to, The National Gallery of Singapore is probably my favorite. The paintings I saw there were largely of people and used bright, saturated colors, two things that I love when it comes to art.
With the largest collection of Asian art in the world, The National Gallery of Singapore had much to show me. Walking through the gallery, I saw artwork that depicted moments in history throughout Asia that I knew nothing about.
After the National Gallery of Singapore, I returned to Marina Bay Sands, this time to try my hand at poker at the Marina Bay Sands Casino.
I entered the smoke-filled casino with complete confidence. My grandfather taught me, my cousins, and my brother how to play poker when I was about nine, probably because he would rather be playing poker than babysitting children.
My cousins and I were more concerned with learning how to shuffle the deck than how to play poker, which might explain why I’d forgotten the rules of every form of poker, including five card draw.
I got a refresher course from my aunt and a few of the nicer dealers and then trusted to dumb luck. I stuck to playing blackjack and three card draw, because those were the easiest to relearn on the fly.
I felt all of the sensations of being in a casino, of losing money and believing that you can earn it back, of earning money and believing that you could earn more. It feels elating when you’re winning. It feels demoralizing the second you start to lose. You feel in your bones that you’re about to win and maybe you are right about that, though you probably aren’t.
They have you on the line and on the line you stay.
My aunt felt the epic highs and lows more than I did, mainly because she had to explain to my father anything that went wrong with me, like losing all of my money at a blackjack table. I perfected the hand movement for when I wanted to stay and tapped the table when I wanted the dealer to hit me, all while creating a nail-biter for a blood relative.
I lost, then I gained, then I lost again, and then I gained.
I went in with 250 Singaporean dollars and then I left with 270 Singaporean dollars.
The house did not win that day.
I walked away, holding my head high, and feeling like I could do anything. Write a bestseller? Piece of cake. Travel the entire world? A walk in the park.
To celebrate, my aunt and I went to the Raffles Hotel for a few Singapore slings. A Singapore Sling is the signature drink of Singapore and it isn’t hard to see why. It is a smooth and fantastic cocktail that deceptively tastes like it has very little alcohol in it when in all actuality, you’ll be on your ass after two.
My aunt and I enjoyed our fruity cocktails with thick wedges of pineapples, while enjoying the crushed peanut shell ambience of the Raffles Hotel.
I learned a great many things about gambling that day, like, don’t play roulette; it’s a fool’s game.
A few lessons went unlearned that day, including don’t hit on 18, because that wound up paying off for me, literally.
That night we went to a meditation class where I took the greatest nap of my life. With a beautiful, astrological light show going on over my head and my jet-lag kicking in, I meditated so well that I took a fantastic snooze on a thin yoga mat. It was, however, an amazing, meditation class.
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
P.S.: Check out my previous blog post about the Singapore Zoo
Most zoos are underwhelming and disappointing. You bake in the heat, walking around a heat-baked, concrete zoo, only to see a handful of animals who look about as miserable and overheated as you do.
The Singapore Zoo is not such a zoo. The animals are actually on display, front and center, feeling close enough for you to touch them.
Unlike all of the zoos I’d been to in the past, there often was little to no barrier between the animals and the zoo patrons. This is as cool as it is terrifying. The animals are right in front of you, not hidden behind glass or cage bars.
The tigers and lions roamed around their enclosures. The elephants sat around, their ears slapping the sides of their bodies.
I felt like a little kid again, thinking about what kind of animal I would be if I had to choose, and always picking one of the more exotic ones, like an elephant, giraffe, or a cheetah.
You could see every type of monkey swinging in its enclosure.
Amusingly, the zoo has monkeys that are not part of the exhibits. Because the zoo backs up to a wooded area, monkeys from the jungle, but not the zoo, hang around.
The people who work at the zoo handle this by shooing away the monkeys with the same energy that New Yorkers shoo away rats or pigeons.
My aunt got into a fight with one such monkey who had gotten hold of a plastic bag that had been left behind by a tourist and my aunt was trying to pry it from its hands. It is hard to convey to a monkey that you are acting in its best interest by not letting it play with a torn plastic bag that it is wrapping around its head.
Overall, we had a fun time going to the zoo. The Singapore Zoo is considered to be one of the more ethical zoos in the world due to its focus on conservation and restoration. All throughout the zoo are signs outlining the status of the animals as endangered animals on the brink of extinction and where they can be found– if they can be found– in the wild.
For our fifth day in Singapore, my aunt and I decided to check out the Singapore Botanic Gardens, an orchid-filled crown jewel that was well-worth the visit.
The botanic garden is a massive-Central Park-like area, complete with pigeons and chickens wandering around. It is a maze of flowers and pergolas with flowers sprouting in the orchid garden in the center of the park.
After the excitement of my hike through a monkey-filled rainforest, the garden felt restful. It was still hot and humid, like walking through a sauna, but the experience was what I imagine it was to be in an oil painting.
Everywhere we looked, we saw something pretty.
We walked down stone pathways, passing alongside waterfalls and lily pad-filled ponds. Swans glided through the water along the appropriately named “swan lake.” I walked through the gardens, keeping my eyes peeled for komodo dragons, which apparently can be seen in some of the more wooded areas of the park (either that or my aunt was just messing with me).
Many of the plants are named after influential people, including several U.S. presidents, the Pope, and the late Princess Diana.
Our walk in the park made for a nice, chill day in Singapore.
And if you ever find yourself in Singapore, you should take a stroll through the Botanic Garden and take the time to stop and smell the orchids.
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
P.S.: Check out my previous blog post about my day at Gardens by the Bay
The next morning, my aunt and I explored Gardens by the Bay in order to check out the SuperTrees grove. It had been described to me as a tourist staple in Singapore and it wasn’t hard to see why.
The SuperTrees are 164 feet high steel trees, covered in thousands of different types of plants and flowers, scaling towards the sky with wrap-around walkways. The trees are lit up at night with lights running through the foliage.
I walked across the Supertree skywalks, feeling the full force of the sun beating down on me, but getting an incredible view of Singapore.
While at Gardens by the Bay, we walked through an orchid garden where we saw several indoor, man-made waterfalls and art installations, which was Jurassic Park-themed at the time, as part of a promotion.
Walking through the orchid garden smells like walking through a room of expensive candles where everything is fresh and mossy. We went into an art installation where a child mistakenly grabbed my hand in the dark and started pulling me with him through the room and I was hit with an intense wave of baby fever.
Afterwards, we stepped inside Marina Bay Sands, a shopping center, to cool down and grab lunch. When I refer to Marina Bay Sands as a shopping center, don’t picture the decaying mall in your hometown with its half empty food court and germ-infested Christmas Village.
Marina Bay Sands has a casino, a 360 rooftop infinity pool, and indoor canals, complete with gondolas. Every high-end luxury brand is there, brimming with clothes that you can’t afford, and restaurants that are far better than any food court. We stopped for ramen and then continued with our trip.
In the late afternoon we went down to a part of town called Arab Street. Specifically we went to Haji Lane, a brightly-colored street known for its boutiques and shopping centers. There we checked out all of the clothes and Persian rugs on display.
The day highlighted for me just how unique Singapore is. Nowhere else in the world would I hope to explore an indoor super mall, hundred feet tall cyber trees, indoor waterfalls with flowers and art installations, and a vibrant, bustling shopping center all in the same day.
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
P.S.: Check out how I spent my previous day in Singapore, getting lost in a real forest of trees with monkeys that chose to give me a hard time.
My East-Coast-to-Singapore-jet lag had me waking up at 4:00 in the morning as an energizer bunny, much to the chagrin of my aunt, but on my third day in Singapore, it actually paid off, as we got up bright and early for a treetop walk at Windsor Park.
(When I tell people that I’m “feeling outdoorsy” it really just means that I am leaving the house) and yet here I was at a nature walk that was in fact oozing nature all around me.
The Treetop Walk is a 5 mile long hike that takes you through a monkey-filled rain forest. Long wooden walkways sprawl up and down hillsides with thick swaths of trees on either side of you. A narrow suspension bridge carries you over the trees.
Monkeys stared at me from the trees, looking almost as fascinated by me as I was with them. The mothers walked around with their babies strapped to their chests.
They crawled on top of the metal structures for the construction site that was happening next door and then ran alongside joggers, like they were their running partners.
The monkeys are famous for trying to snatch items out of tourists’ hands in an attempt to bargain for food. At the beginning of our hike, a monkey started chasing my aunt around, trying to get her water bottle from her. That same monkey ran out in front of me and I ran screaming in the opposite direction. I was too terrified to get anywhere near it, much to the amusement of the other tourists around me. I eventually was able to walk by, unassaulted by the monkey, and continued on with the hike.
The Treetop Walk is not for the faint of heart. The humidity was so strong it was like I was swimming just walking around. I sweated more than I thought was humanly possible with sweat stains going from my arm pit to my hip. It felt like every hot yoga class I had ever taken. I was so hot and sweaty that at some point I stopped making sense.
We walked across a swinging suspension bridge which had a strict weight limit and instructions for what to do if a snake fell onto the bridge in front of us (panic).
For much of the hike, I wore a beautiful sunhat that my brother gave me as a birthday gift. It looked like I had a satellite dish on my head. Once I put it on, it actually kind of made me look like the flying nun.
At some point, my aunt and I had seen countless monkeys and bravely walked across a swaying bridge. We wanted to go home, but, after much denial, we realized that we were lost. We had been wandering on the trails for a while and suddenly could no longer see the forest through the trees.
We walked over the tree roots that all looked like kimono dragons to a tired and dehydrated traveler. We asked people for directions that only made us more lost until the trail we were walking on spat us out on a random sidewalk along the highway, an anticlimactic, but much-needed end to a treeline hike through the forest.
From there, we jumped on a bus going in a direction– we weren’t sure which–and then wound up at a McDonald’s. After returning to civilization, our legs destroyed from all of the walking and our bodies nearly wrecked from heat stroke, I went for a swim in the pool to cool off.
After a long, hot day of being chased around by monkeys, walking across a suspension bridge, and getting stranded on the side of a road, I can finally say that I have seen nature in the wild. I have looked a monkey in the eye.
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
P.S.: Check out how I spent my previous day in Singapore, exploring Chinatown.
The next morning, we started our day with prata and mutton sauce at the Tin Yeang Hawker Center for breakfast. The Tin Yeang Hawker Center is an open air cafeteria, known for its prata, a crispy Indian dish dipped in a smokey curry sauce. It is a popular breakfast dish in Singapore and Malaysia.
And it tastes incredible.
We got ours filled with egg, onion, and cheese. I inhaled the first batch and then some of my aunt’s, wiping my bowl clean of the mutton sauce.
Once we finished breakfast, my aunt and I explored Chinatown. We started around the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple and then walked down the colorful, bustling streets, dipping into shops that sold talismans, jewelry, and small wooden elephants, and drinking dragon fruit tea that we bought at a tea stand. Everywhere we looked there were paper lanterns, statues of Buddha, and murals of Bruce Lee.
For lunch we went to the Maxwell Hawker Center so that I could try chicken and rice, the national dish of Singapore. I tried it at a Michelin-star food stall, called Tian Tian Hainanese Chicken Rice, made famous by Anthony Bourdain. Every other tourist had the same idea as us and we had to wait in a fairly long line, but it was worth it. Though it sounds simple, the juicy, buttery pieces of chicken over rice are a must-try. Food was quickly becoming my favorite part of the trip.
After that, I decided to check out another bookstore, appropriately named Littered with Books, and then called it a day. My jet-lag was still kicking my ass, hovering over me no matter what I did. I chugged every form of tea I could get my hands on, from matcha to thai tea to dragon fruit, but I still felt like I was walking through a fog.
It was a perfect second day in Singapore, filled with prata, mutton sauce, dragon fruit tea, and chicken and rice.
(And for those who are considering traveling to Singapore, I would recommend a day in Chinatown with a stop at the Tian Tian Hainanese Chicken Rice food stall for a chicken and rice lunch and a prata breakfast at The Tin Yeang Hawker Center).
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
P.S.: Check out my blog post about how I spent my first day in Singapore
For the second time this year, I got my passport stamped. This time, I was traveling to Singapore, to visit my aunt, following my completion of my classes at Columbia.
It was my first time traveling to Asia and I have been wanting to see Singapore ever since my aunt moved there nearly a decade ago. After meticulously researching all of the best cites, I made my way across the world to visit this island nation atop the equator.
I touched down in Singapore and discovered a nation of hawker centers, towering skyscrapers, and sweltering heat. It also is a nation of facial recognition at the airport, indoor shopping centers a la Rodeo Drive, and a concrete jungle, surrounded by actual jungle.
It is a one-party system that takes pieces of democracy, socialism, and capitalism and combines them for their own style of government. It shouldn’t work, and yet, it works almost too well, being one of the cleanest and safest countries in the world.
After more than 19 hours of travel, I landed in Singapore Changi airport, an airport that puts all other airports to shame. It is a tourist attraction in and of itself with its butterfly garden and waterfall, making for a very warm welcome into the country.
From there, I got my bearings, going to the Ngee Ann City Civic Plaza in the Orchard Road shopping center, where I spent hours at Kikokuniya Books. I got lost in the rows of books and found a pretty stack of books to bring home, as I can be counted on to do wherever I am in the world.
On my first night there, I went to a Hawker Center, one of the main things that I wanted to try when visiting Singapore. A hawker center is an open air market, filled with dozens of food stalls, as seen in the movie Crazy Rich Asians. I waded through the crowds, trying out all of the different kinds of incredible food while my mouth watered. Steam wafted up from nearly every food stall. I drank out of a coconut and ate, among other things, some of the best Indian food that I have ever had.
The Raffles Place Hawker Center was the perfect place to start my adventure in Singapore. There would be many hawker centers in my future, as well as more bookstores and shopping centers, all of them explored to the fullest extent.
I would be going everywhere from nature sites to urban centers. Keep reading for tales of monkey forests, super trees, and botanical gardens.
The Tragic Queen, Raquel
P.S.: Check out my blog post about my recent travels to France
We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you the first half of my book review for the year.
This post has been a long time coming, since I have been busy with my thesis, but I finally have finished my review, clocking in at forty books.
I spent much of my free time reading this year. I assembled this reading list the same way that everyone else does these days– by checking out the New York Times Bestsellers List, Tik-Tok sensations, Reese’s Book Club picks, and Good Morning America Book Club picks, as well as from the guy who sells books on the sidewalk outside my apartment, books for class, classics, and a handful of books that looked good in window displays. A few of these books were nominated for the Booker Prize, the Women’s Prize for Fiction, and the Pulitzer Prize and the ones that weren’t were oftentimes just as good.
Even the books that I didn’t like still brought me joy in the way that books do. Spending time in bed with a good book while my cat makes biscuits on my lap or being tucked away in the corner of a cafe reading is always a luxury.
Whether I loved them or hated them, all of them made me think.
Here are my unvarnished opinions on everything that I have read so far this year.
Judge for yourself…
FCC Disclosure:
If you click on one of the links embedded in the book titles and purchase a book, I may receive a commission. Enjoy!
Dirty Diana by Jen Besser and Shana Feste–Once a wild and passionate artist in her youth, Diana Woods has since settled down as a suburban mom with a disappointing sex life and a predictable routine. I was clearly not the target audience for this book, since I cannot yet relate to the need for marriage counseling, a husband that you are no longer attracted to, and the death of all of your dreams, but it was an interesting glimpse into the ways in which one woman tries to fight against it. Based on the number one fiction podcast, this novel deals with what it takes to start re-exploring your passions through your sexuality and artistry. It is part of a trilogy, which I don’t think I am going to continue, but it was still enjoyable as a stand alone novel.
Mexican Gothic by Silvia Garcia Moreno–If you’re a fan of Bad Cree by Jessica Johns you’ll like this novel. After receiving a distressing letter from her newly-wed cousin, Noemi Taboado, a socialite from Mexico City, decides to visit her to see for herself what has gone wrong. Her cousin lives in an eerie castle in a desolate, far-off town. The novel is disturbing, focusing on eugenics, incest, and colonization, compelling the reader to ask if the problems that abound in the novel are supernatural or psychological. It is an engrossing read, set against the backdrop of a creepy place, during a bygone era.
When She Was Good by Philip Roth–This book will have you taking your birth control. This is one of the earliest books to get into the pro-choice debate in the 1960s and comes from a singularly unexpected source. This is Roth’s only book with a female protagonist and not only did he make the protagonist a woman but he dealt with women’s issues, depicting a promising young woman who was cajoled into sex, impregnated, and then forced to live a miserable, domestic life. The shocking ending is well worth the wait.
100 Boyfriends by Brontez Purnell–A memoir that grapples with profound loneliness. The narrator experiences a revolving door of 100 boyfriends that blur together, leaving him miserable. People keep suggesting to the narrator that he get a boyfriend, rather than rely on meaningless hookups, which is easier said than done. The novel explores the difficulties of getting someone to commit to you and what it feels like when no one does.
Haroun and The Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie– I am not a very big fan of magical realism. Rushdie writes with an eccentric tone, straddling the line between parable and satire. This fantastical novel was not the type of thing I usually read, but even I can see that Rushdie is a master at his craft.
Is Mother Dead by Vigdis Hjorth– This Norwegian novel explores the judgment that sometimes comes from your family when you move away, divorce your spouse, and pursue your dreams… and also when you expose your family’s dysfunction in a world famous painting that you make. The novel’s pacing could be stronger, as the narrator watches her family from afar, imagining their lives and the place that she occupies within it, but never approaching them until the end. Overall, it raises many questions about your own personal happiness versus the personal happiness of your family and whether or not the people in your life are entitled to privacy when it comes to making art.
Problems by Jade Sharma– This novel about a disgruntled, pessimistic woman with sad sexual preferences and an insatiable drug appetite felt like such a messy woman’s story. The protagonist is a self-destructive woman whose life spirals further into disrepute without reprieve. A happy ending is too much to hope for.
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway– I picked up this old paperback in advance of my trip to Paris. Parts of it don’t hold up as much to a modern reader, but it is still a good novel to pass the time reading. In case you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to fall in love with a nurse during World War 1, this novel answers that question.
Jillian by Halle Butler–is a pared down novel that reads like a screenplay at times, and tells the perspective of every character, at times simultaneously. Anyone who has ever had to work an office job will relate to the characters in this story.
Here is a book that I listened to on Audible. I prefer not to listen to audiotapes, because I feel like I absorb them less, but, in a pinch, I listened to this one for class.
Mother for Dinner by Shalom Auslander– Adult children come together after the death of the matriarch of their family, only it’s not to bury her. It’s to eat her. They are a family of cannibals due to their strange religious beliefs. The mother is a garden-variety bigot. The novel depicts what it means to have a sense of familial obligation, while poking fun at identity politics. It is intentionally politically incorrect and will likely offend many, many people. Overall, it comes across as an intellectual exercise from Auslander that does not fulfill every promise that it makes, but it goes to interesting places.
The Delan Deck by Matt Bucher– captures the ouroboros-like way in which humans invented AI, the thing that will eventually ruin human life (if it hasn’t already). Bucher fills the pages with loosely-connected trivia facts in order to illustrate the ways in which technology muzzles out human life. This story is short, making it difficult to really sink your teeth into the rich topic of how we’re stymied by technology.
I Hate the Internet by Jarett Kobek– Similarly, this book captures the waking nightmare that we have subjected ourselves to by relying on technology. Kobek points out the hypocrisy of those who post about human rights abuses on the internet using a phone that was built with slave-labor and how every time we complain about gentrification on twitter, we fuel twitter’s gentrification of San Francisco. At times, the novel doesn’t make as strong of a point as it thinks it does, complaining about war crimes in the same breath as it complains about cosplayers.
The Wedding People by Alison Espach– A depressed woman goes to a luxury hotel to kill herself only to instead become enmeshed in the lives of the wedding party that have occupied the hotel for the week. Despite this premise, the writing never becomes painstaking or desperate. The narrative is actually funny throughout. It is a nail biter until the end with incredibly well-drawn characters that put an interesting spin on the marriage plot. This is one of the first novels that I have read that actually acknowledges the pandemic and its repercussions. Unlikable characters are made redeemable enough to root for. I’m impressed by Espach’s ability to convey chemistry between two characters and a lack thereof between others. She is skilled at showing each characters’ perspective. 10/10 would recommend.
The Berry Pickers by Amanda Peters– The Berry Pickers is about a Native American family being rocked by the sudden disappearance of their youngest daughter. I read it in just a few days because that’s what a quick read it was. It was good overall, but I have questions about the realism of it. I imagine that the characters would be so much more upset by the emotional fallout of the events in this novel.
Minor Detail by Adania Shibli (trans. Elisabeth Jaquette)–This novel is based largely on a true story about a teenage bedouin woman during the days of the Nakba. It doesn’t shy away from the horrors of war, depicting a graphic rape scene. The victim’s perspective is completely muzzled out, conveying the way in which she was silenced, unknown, and disregarded. The book is only about a hundred pages long and divided into two sections. I do feel like the author could have expanded it in order to make the ending less rushed, while at the same time, she has slow beginnings in both halves of the book. The author does a good job writing subtext overall.
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison– I’m not sure what there is to say about The Bluest Eye that hasn’t already been said before. To me, it is a brilliantly written novel that never lets up. What I was struck by most while reading it was the total lack of shock value, despite the novel’s heavy subject matter. Morrison treats the horror of a young girl’s life as a matter-of-fact, which, in many ways, it is.
In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado– is part collection of essays, part poetry, part short story, but all memoir. It tackles the subject of emotionally abusive, queer relationships and the danger of making them public. Machado knows that the perception will be that the gay community is eating their own.
Good Girl by Aria Aber– I read this book because it was shortlisted for the Women’s Prize in Fiction. Much of the story is a litany of parties and nightclubs that the protagonist attends and all I can say is… yeah, we’ve all done that. Most modern day women have had disappointing hookups with men who have pathetic sexual predilections, and most have gone to nightclubs and done ketamine or some other designer party drug. I don’t think that it’s that deep. She dates a man who treats her poorly. I do not understand why the protagonist is attracted to him. Aber writes vaporous prose, so if that is your thing, then pick this book up.
Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy– After the world has been ravaged by climate change, a woman with a past follows some ailing fisherman throughout the world to try and find the last remaining arctic terns. It feels like the author made an assortment of choices with the intention of publishing a bestseller and she was successful. It felt like at times there were transparent attempts to make her story appear more diverse without any real exploration of identity, the slightest push of the envelope to give the impression of a deep, transgressive story about social change, and a pile of dead bodies that were added into the story to turn the book into a thriller. The novel looks at the detrimental effects of climate change, which I believe should be talked about and written about more, but I wish that she had gone into further depth on the topic.
The Namesake by Jhumpha Lahiri– The novel follows a first generation Indian family in the United States. It focuses on assimilation and the ways in which we have to compartmentalize parts of our identity in order to make ourselves more palatable to the people in our lives. Lahiri’s prose glide off the page with perfect clarity. This book was a breezy, but palpable read that asks the question: what’s in a name?
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugindes–At times his prose is clunky as he revels in an indulgent amount of details about each character that he introduces, but overall the details make the story feel vivid and real. I was mostly struck by the way in which the neighborhood boys idealize the young girls around them and, as a result, misunderstand them. The novel overall makes a strong point about sexualizing young girls and ignoring their suffering, though I still wish I had more insight into why those virgins killed themselves.
Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan– This petite book could be devoured in just a few hours and it probably will be. In a small, coal mining town in Ireland, an honest working man uncovers a devastating secret about his local church and must decide what, if anything, he will do about it. The harsh Irish winters jump off the page even in the dead of summer. The pain and suffering inflicted by the Catholic Church against young women will fill you with rage (I hope).
Liars bySarah Manguso– the narrator outlines a litany of abuses from her husband, who is a failure in many respects. In all likelihood, this book will be uncomfortably relatable to many. After pulling your hair out while reading the book, the story at least has a happy ending.
First Love by Gwendoline Riley–is a well-written, messed up tale of an emotionally-abusive age gap relationship that explores the very real way in which women can struggle to leave bad relationships when they rely on their partner for their income. It is depressing to slog through the emotional abuse that the protagonist experiences, but it is an unflinchingly honest story.
Stone Yard Devotional by Charlotte Wood–I read this Booker Prize shortlist nominee because of the New York Times review praising the book’s use of interiority. A woman at a monastery recounts the strange happenings that take place over the span of several days and poses lofty questions, such as “what is forgiveness” and “can people be morally good?” The praiseworthy interiority, while well-written, sometimes does not come with enough present action to warrant such internal monologuing.
Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? by Lorrie Moore– This novella tells the story of two female friends. It captures so much about female friendship, as the girls spend their summer carefree, laughing constantly amongst themselves, until life has other plans for them.
Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata– In this novella, the protagonist, Keiko, is a thirty something convenience store worker. She has never been in a relationship and yet she is perfectly content, stocking shelves on display racks and never having feelings for any man or woman. Those around her fail to see anything other than what they consider to be an unfulfilling life. It is all about being misunderstood and conforming to societal expectations.
Bliss Montage by Ling Ma– A collection of short stories, each one quirkier than the last. There is little that can be said about this book other than the fact that you have to read it to understand for yourself what is going on. This collection of short stories is definitely not for everyone with its experimental and abstract writing, but many can probably find a piece that they enjoy. Favorite short story: G
📍 Bali, Indonesia
Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder– I have read many stories about women who are discontent with their lives and marriages. I had never read one where said woman turns into a dog. In many ways, this novel adheres to many tropes about motherhood: a numb-nuts husband who does not understand what she is going through, the exhaustion that comes from chasing around a lovable, but tireless toddler, and the sacrificing of a dream job for her family. But in this novel, the stresses of motherhood turn the protagonist into a carnivorous, feral creature. It is about how motherhood connects women back to the primal feelings within them. It will make you question whether you want kids and whether or not you’ve chosen the right partner in life.
Swimming in the Dark by Tomasz Jedrowski– There’s nothing like coming home at the end of a long day and cracking open a nice gay love story that takes place in 1980s Poland. Two young men fall in love in their youth, but disagree when one of them supports the nation’s socialist regime and the other one supports the promises of capitalism. It’s a tale as old as time. It was a place and an era that I knew nothing about, so I decided to read it and in doing so learned about Poland’s recent history. I felt like the first half of the story was stronger than the latter half, but that it was still good.
Election by Tom Perrotta– Those familiar with the Matthew Broderick and Reese Witherspoon film from the 90s should know about this epic story of a high school election gone wrong. Even though the story is about a high school election for student body president, you keep turning the page, hooked from the first paragraph. You sit on the edge of your seat, because you just have to know who wins the election and what it will mean in the grand scheme of things. Perrotta has a smooth turn of phrase and many tongue-and-cheek witticisms throughout the book, as he writes what should be a dull topic in such a compelling way that it becomes fascinating.
My Friends by Frederik Backman–I was absolutely down to give this book a four out of five stars review until the ending. The main character makes a worse decision than when the protagonist in Happy Place by Emily Henry decides to quit being a surgeon so that she can make pottery. The novel was charming throughout, conveying a genuine love of art and childhood, but I also felt like it was a little sappy for my tastes. Those who love art and don’t mind a questionable book ending should read this book as well.
Jaws by Peter Benchley– Midway through summer, I decided to pick up the ultimate beach read: Jaws, the novel, and then the movie, that made everyone afraid to go into the water. Reading about vicious shark attacks can send a chill down your spin, even without the tight shots and iconic theme music that made the movie so legendary. Benchley is a great writer, even if he didn’t come up with the infamous “you’re going to need a bigger boat” line or the monologue about the U.S.S. Indianapolis. It is a smooth, quick read that is both entertaining and serious. To my surprise, this novel had much to do with class, infidelity, and mob dealings, being more tawdry and complicated than the simple man versus nature story that I was expecting.
Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie– Brutal. Chilling. Haunting. Deeply upsetting. Purple Hibiscus tells the story of a wealthy, privileged family living in Nigeria during a time of political unrest. Nambili, the fifteen year old protagonist, lives a troubled life, devoid of any joy. Her father, who is a radical, fundamentalist Christian abuses his wife and children. The whole time I was reading it, all I could think to myself was, “this better end with his death, preferably his murder.” I won’t say whether or not that comes to pass. You read this book with a lump in your throat, filled with dread for the protagonist’s well being.
People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry– I read this book as a chaser after reading Purple Hibiscus when I decided that I needed to read something light and rompy. Like Emily Henry’s other rom coms, this book was cute and sweet, filling you with romantic hope. My copy was rife with typos, including getting the male love interest’s name wrong at one point (Emily Henry, fire your editor) but it was still fun to read. The men are charming. The women are quirky and relatable. The plots are endearing.
Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid– For whatever reason, I had been fantasizing about surfing in exotic locations. Particularly, I wanted to surf in Malibu, despite having no plans, in the near or distant future, to ever go there. So when I picked up this book with Malibu in the title and surfers on the cover, I knew that I had to read it. The story really builds on itself, giving each character a backstory that is compelling to read. I understand why this book was chosen as the number one book on goodreads the year that it came out, being entertaining and reasonably thought-provoking. Anyone who feels nostalgic for the 80s will probably like this book.
Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid– Atmosphere confirmed for me something that I already knew, which was that you couldn’t pay me to ever go to outer space. I do not like enclosed spaces, wide open spaces, math, or science, all of which seem pretty essential to space travel. I also have such bad motion sickness that I can’t swing on a swing for more than a minute. Space travel is just not in the cards for me, but Reid makes it seem like you are there, leading a mission through the solar nebula as you float through time and space or leading mission control in Cape Canaveral, Florida. I was on the edge of my seat, dying to know not just how the space mission ends, but how the relationships at the heart of the novel resolve themselves.
Carrie Soto is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid–It should be clear by now that I am having a love affair with the writing of Taylor Jenkins Reid. I appreciate Reid’s clean, clear prose, the pop culture savviness of her work, and what can be described as the female-centricness of her narratives, which she never deviates from. This work in particular features a father-daughter relationship at its heart and looks at the obsession and drive of a tennis pro. This novel, which will test your knowledge of Spanish, tackles the vitriol that female athletes face, what it means to be considered past your prime, and shows not only what it takes to have a great career, but what it takes to have an even greater comeback. If you are a fan of The Queen’s Gambit by Walter Tevis, you will likely enjoy this book as well.
Last but not least:
The Idiot by Elif Batuman–Some books are ruined by their endings. This book was enhanced by its final sentence. This novel is entirely about language and communication, the irony being the narrator’s inability to communicate meaningfully with the people in her life. The book is praised for its wry humor, which is to say that it isn’t laugh-out-loud-funny but that it thumbs its nose at society.
Even if a book isn’t in my top three or my honorable mentions, that doesn’t mean I won’t still recommend it. Here are some books that I can’t recommend enough:
Despite the diverse array of books I have read so far this year, there were some oddly specific similarities between a few of them.
Novels in which a mother is struggling with motherhood because her husband is failing her in some way and the story is so indicative of so many women’s reality that the baby isn’t even given a name:
People in a European country reflecting back on a relationship that they once had when they were younger and exposed a conflict between who they really were and the life they wanted to live:
And yet, despite all of these similarities, I still read many things that were new to me. For the first time in my life, I read books that took place in Nigeria, Poland, and Australia. Naturally, now, I would like to visit.
I am slightly behind on my reading goal (gasp) and will therefore need to have my nose stuck in books until the year’s end.
Do you agree with my review? Leave a comment (nicely) with your take on these books.
Happy reading!
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
P.S.: Check out my previous book review of all of the books I read at the end of last year.
On my last day in Paris, Claire and I went to the Catacombs, going much farther than 6 feet under to see the bodies of the 6 million people buried underneath the streets of Paris.
Photo credits: Claire
The catacombs came about out of a need for mass burial after a public health crisis and now acts as a popular attraction.
The tunnels we walked through were cool and damp, dripping wet from the rainstorm happening well above our heads. It was eerie seeing millions of skeletons stacked on top of each other while walking through a narrow, underground tunnel.
We listened to the audio explaining how the catacombs came to be. Hint: the plague was big for the catacombs numbers. I never thought that I would be able to walk past a wall of skeletons as casually as I did in the catacombs, but we walked amongst skulls wrapped around walls, down the long, winding tunnels.
Between the catacombs and Père Lachaise, I saw a decent amount of French burial grounds. After visiting Père Lachaise, a cemetery full of some of the richest and most famous people in Europe, it was shocking to see the 6 million bodies of unknown people lumped together underground.
After getting a nice, chilling perspective on mortality in the catacombs, I decided to go and check out the flea market being held in the Marais district in the Place des Vosges, a park that straddles the 3rd and 4th arrondissements. Every weekend in Paris there are grand flea markets all over the city and I follow a woman on Instagram who posts nothing but where to find them each weekend. The internet is wild.
I bought a couple more chokers and looked around at the paintings, gramophones, and other antiques that they were selling. It seemed true to what I had come to expect from all of the movies I’d seen of Paris, where gramophones and old records are casually sold on every other street corner.
While I was there, I went to the apartment that belonged to Victor Hugo, author of Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which is now a museum honoring his life. It overlooks the park, with a sweeping view of the flea market. On every wall there are massive oil paintings, many of which are of his favorite daughter who preceded him in death.
I walked through the fabulous apartment that Hugo lived in while writing his books about poverty. One of my friends later told me that after his death, they went through his financial records and found that he hired somewhere around two prostitutes a day and that all of the brothels were therefore closed on the day of his funeral because all of the women were in attendance. In case you were wondering, no, he did not die from syphilis. He died in his 80s from natural causes.
Towards the end of the day, I sat on a park bench. Couples walked by on dates, college students laid out on the grass, and kids ran around playing soccer in a way that made me both nostalgic and melancholy, because I will never be that young again.
I was ready to leave Paris the next day, carting my painting with me. I’d had a dreamy first trip to the city, drifting into shops and cafes, with walks along the Seine interspersed throughout. I spent my time eating unbelievable food and getting lost in the charms of the city. This trip has inspired me to learn French (right after I finish learning Italian and Spanish, the two other languages I started but never finished studying).
And to my friend Claire: thank you for hosting me, introducing me to proper French food, and for giving me my first taste of Paris. Without Claire, I would have bumbled my way around Paris, mispronouncing every word (I did that anyway). Instead, the two of us stayed up watching Audrey Hepburn movies at night and it enhanced my experience tenfold to watch Cary Grant chase Audrey Hepburn through a metro station that I would use the next day.
I never went to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but I always like to leave something for the next trip. There are always smokey jazz bars, burlesque shows, and more Audrey Hepburn films to watch (I still haven’t seen Paris When it Sizzles).
The good news is that I was able to do it all over again with my trip to Asia a few weeks later. Get ready for more pictures of food, stories about wily monkeys, and a beautiful tropical paradise.
Off to my next big adventure!
So until next time, Paris!
Au Revoir!
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel P.S.: Check out how I spent the previous day in Paris when I went on a spree
The Tragic Queen 