frankensteinscreature's reviews
285 reviews

In her nature poetry, Oliver becomes a death poet too, and that is what I most love about this collection 

You are being watched

I am loathe to say it, but in the case of practical magic, I preferred the film by far. There were some more gothic elements I loved in the book, but it was nowhere near as witchy or ghostly as I had hoped and just felt like a generic romance, there was no need for every single woman to get a partner.

I did enjoy the creeping suggestion that all of these relationships are just due to the cunning spells of the aunts, I much prefer this idea of a not so happy ending

I picked up this book at Highgate Bookshop, and I think there is not a more apt place for me to have stumbled upon it. 
The Book Against Death is part memoir, part philosophy, part journal, part poetry, part novel. It chronicles almost 60 years of Canetti’s life, rather fittingly up to his death. These notes and ponderings explore not only death but love, nature, birth, love, war, history, memory, literature, morality, duty and hope. Canetti quotes, imagines other forms of living, and tells of his own history in what is almost a published commonplace book. He battles with his own obsession with death, whilst simultaneously criticising those with morbid obsessions. The ups and downs and contradictions of this book perfectly epitomise the weird relationship we humans have with death. 
I loved this book in such a distinct way, I felt so much of what Canetti wrote and felt quite deeply. My copy has become a bit battered over the last couple of weeks as it has accompanied me to work, on bus journeys, on outings, in the bath, and on one particularly memorable trip to the cemetery. The beauty of this book lies in its unresolvedness. I hope that in his last moments Canetti was able to face death in the way he intended to, or even came to accept it in the way he so fought against. This book about death is so ferverently life affirming. 

I didn’t know what to expect going into this short novel, but it was something wonderful and unexpected. As our unnamed (and I suppose unnamable) narrator ventures into her realm of death (or undeath), she befriends a crow, that she binds beneath her ribs and sets to tackle her hunger, grief and the half-memories that haunt her. I think above all this is a love story. Our narrators sapphic love surpasses all, including death. Her afterlife is one of longing, and one of you. This tale so powerful, gut-wrenching and funny simultaneously. I loved following this journey of mourning, as I, too, mourn my lost memories. The past that has become the past. 

I just found this to be underwhelming. A couple of good stories but a generally weak collection, many of them were just far too similar, all of the characters felt the same and I feel like overall the Fen was neglected and other than a few sentences this could’ve been set just about anywhere. Mind numbingly heterosexual. 

The premise is wonderful, and I was drawn in by the comparisons to Our Wives Under the Sea but god this book was dreadful. This novel is written like it is supposed to be YA, but with very graphic content. Our main character Ren is not at all like other girls and will never stop telling us this. Everything was far too on the nose, I cannot count the times the words ‘mermaid’ and ‘butt’ were used, and then there were the horrendous attempts at wordplay. Also just constant bad grammar, constant repetitiveness and just generally shit writing, I really do not believe any editors read this at all. I would never describe this book as sapphic, the attempt at a sapphic relationship is displayed in a smattering of poorly placed letters that make no narrative sense, and the main character leading on her lesbian best friend who she generally just mistreats, and with huge sections dedicated to describing sex with a man! Great! The depictions of abuse in this book felt insensitive and sloppy, all of the characters were shallow and empty and the discussions of the female body were stupid and almost misogynistic. A horrid book full of shit stereotyping and rubbish attempts at horror. Overall thid was just a poor imitation of the writings of Angela Carter and Julia Armfield that really feels like it was written by a 14 year old. Please don’t bother trying to read this. 

I really connected with this book!