This was a very interesting read. Tickled parts of my brain that haven’t been tickled in a while.

The most notable aspect of this novel is the language. The author writes beautifully, with a lot of emphasis on language that relates to photography: the play of light and shadow, for instance, or describing the way shadows and light play together in a particular scene. The structure of narrative also plays with the idea of photography, with the story being told in snapshots and snippets of varying length. I find this really interesting, since it does some work towards framing JIn as a character whose chosen form of self-expression and creation is the art of photography.

Extending that photography metaphor a little bit, all the characters in this novel appear “framed”, in some way, in Jin’s eyes: the way she describes them, the way she talks about them, even the way she thinks about them is all about giving them a particular framing - especially true with her mother, her spouse Philip, and even more so with Lidija, since Jin’s interactions with her involve not just the metaphorical camera of Jin’s mind and narration, but also Jin’s actual camera. Even Jin attempts to control the way she frames her own self as she tells the story - most noticeable in the way she tackles things she does not want to think about. When she encounters something she’d much rather not deal with, she either tells the reader about it in a brief, cursory manner, or simply alludes to it happening, instead of giving all loving details that the reader KNOWS she is fully capable of doing. Throughout the novel the reader gets the sense that she’s always holding something back, always trying to choose her words when she talks about something. While this doesn’t necessarily make her an unreliable narrator, it does make her feel more distant. This is something some critics have pointed out as a negative, but I kind of like the way Jin tries to hold herself back, even when she’s supposedly talking to no one but herself.

The concept of photography also plays into novel’s overall themes. The primary focus is feminism, but the way the author tackles various aspects of it, such as feminism in the context of race, motherhood, and the arts, feels a lot more nuanced in comparison to some other stories, especially given how they all seem compacted together into the space of a single novel without losing too much depth. The novel takes the theme of feminism as a whole, but breaks it up into separate frames, separate photos, so to speak, without diminishing its power - kind of like the way a photographer can shoot a subject from different angles, and each photo will not quite look the same, but will be related to all the other photos of the same subject.

Ballet also plays a role in framing the theme of feminism in this novel. While it doesn’t extend itself all over the rest of the narrative the same way photography does, ballet’s history and its aesthetics do play a role in addressing the concepts of beauty and societal roles that women play in culture and in life in general.

Overall this was a lovely gem of a read, quite mirific (to borrow a new word I learned from this book), something my brain desperately needed after some of my previous reads didn’t scratch an itch I had in my brain. The writing is exquisite, and the exploration of themes multi-layered, but some readers might bounce off the fragmented narrative style and the more elevated language.

Oh that was a fine little delight! Doesn’t attempt to do more than what it promises, and handily delivers on that promise.

I keep comparing this to The Little Venice Bookshop, which might be unfair but their plots do fit the same general mold: woman goes out into the world (specifically Italy) to find herself. She has a sad past involving her mother, and this journey is part of honoring said mother’s last wishes. Along the way, she finds home, love, and family, and lives happily ever after, the end. Except where The Little Venice Bookshop fails, this book succeeds - and I mean that in every single metric one can think of, from characterization to plot to just the general writing style.

That being said, there’s nothing all that revolutionary about this book. It is what it says on the tin, just done decently enough that it won’t give the reader a headache or leave a bad taste in their mouth when they’re done, as compared to some other books I have already mentioned.

Overall, this was a light, delightful read that’s not too demanding while still being decently-crafted enough in comparison to some other books like it: good for some light escapism.

Okay, I think that was a delightful read, but it’s also got some issues.

This wasn’t as challenging as some people are making it out to be, both pre- and post-release. The author does use academic language and conceits, but it’s honestly Academic Lite compared to some other novels I’ve read. I admit that my previous experience in academia serves me well here, but in truth the prose is not that difficult. Any previous experience in reading academic papers will suffice, as will previous experience reading classic literature (American or British will do; no need to go chasing the Russians or the French for this).

As for the references, they aren’t really that deep - certainly not to the same level as the references to Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene and the Scottish ballad Tam Lin in Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin, or to Greek tragedy in Donna Tartt’s The Secret History. The references in this book feel more like a passing nod to the texts they refer back to, but do not feel like they deeply inform the story. It’s more like they’re being used to show how clever and well-read the characters are, instead of being a fundamental part of the narrative. Which can be fun: intertextuality, after all, is a fine game for authors and readers to play with each other. But in order for that game to truly be enjoyable, the author has to try to anticipate and match their readership’s depth and breadth of experience - and sadly, in this case, it would appear the author is playing in the Minor Leagues, when I was expecting the Majors.

(I do want to point out that, of all my previous experiences with narrative across various media, the one reference point that I found most cogent while reading this book was Hiromu Arakawa’s Fullmetal Alchemist. Those familiar with that manga/anime will see what I mean, and those who are not- Well, I highly recommend it.)

Despite that, though, the story was pretty fun: Alice and Peter were lovely characters to read about - especially Alice, with all her complicated feelings about being an Asian woman in academia. Peter was a darling, though I do wish we’d been more strongly developed. The way the novel explores the highs and lows of academia - its light and its shadows, its glories and its abuses - through Alice and Peter’s narratives was deeply relatable and felt accurate on the emotional level and in the broader strokes of the narrative, but of course readers must remember that it’s not a completely accurate, one-is-to-one portrayal. People vary, courses vary, and universities and colleges vary; one person’s experience of academic life will be different from what is portrayed in this book.

Overall, this was a fun story to get lost in, but I do wish that there had been more meat on its bones. I can see what the author was trying to do, what the author was trying to build, and can’t help but think she could have done more with the material she was using. It could have been so much deeper, so much richer, if the literary references were more than just winked at, or if the characters had been given more development. This will serve well, I suppose, as an introduction to more complex work, but it is not, in and of itself, very complex at all.

So: this wasn’t all that bad a read, but I’ve got a few issues with it.

The concept is pretty entertaining: an entire street/neighborhood being haunted instead of just a house or a building. It allowed for an exploration of suburbia as the site of horror: of how evil hides behind a facade of civility, how the American Dream really is just a dream. I know there are other books that explore the dark side of suburbia, but this novel makes those evils very explicit - enough that I kind of wish it had dialed it back a bit and left some things to the imagination.

I think the author could have spent more time developing certain characters a bit more. While I understand the focus on Talitha, and how, because of the way this book is narrated, she and Brett get the lion’s share of character development, I think that the narrative overall would have been better-balanced if other characters had been given more opportunities to shine. Enid, in particular, could have used a lot more development, especially because of her role in the narrative. Her role was so important to the overall story that I was expecting she’d be a bit more fleshed out over the course of the novel, but unfortunately, that’s not the case. I also wish Grace had been more fleshed out, again because of her importance to the narrative, but that doesn’t come to pass either. This is unfortunate, as they seem to have very interesting stories of their own, and it’s a pity the reader doesn’t get more than a glimpse of those stories.

I also wish attention had been given to the research team, especially the way they treated Talitha. There really is something horrific about the tragedy of one’s life being reduced to research items for dissection and debate, how utterly dehumanizing that is. The narrative could also have explored the ethics of true crime and the fascination with it, as well as the industry of podcasts, Youtube videos, documentaries, and books both fictional and non-fictional that make bank off the tragedies that befall others. The story could have done a really deep dive into the horrors of that idea, and it was poised to do so, but it doesn’t really bother to go there.

Overall, this wasn’t that bad a read, but it did feel like it could have done more in a few places. While the exploration of the hidden evils of suburbia and the concept of a haunted neighborhood are both interesting, the development of some characters wasn’t as strong as I wanted it to be, and certain themes were left unexplored when they really should have been delved into.

Okay so. I can see why there were attempts by Meta to make sure this book was sunk before it even reached wider publication, because of what it reveals of the culture inside the company.

The title is incredibly apt, because the head honchos at Meta really just don’t give a fuck about anybody except themselves and their inner circle. This lack of care was entrenched in the company’s culture from the very beginning, as evidenced by the author’s story about how she got into Meta (then Facebook) in the first place.

What’s horrifying, though, is seeing how that lack of care and empathy grows as the company grows. The entire book is about just how little Meta’s leadership cares about anyone else; they lack anything resembling what Filipinos would call delicadeza in dealing with other people. What’s even more upsetting and tragic is that these people are responsible for putting ENTIRE COUNTRIES into dire political straits - mine included. They have destroyed, and are destroying, millions of lives all over the world and they just do not give a fuck.

And while I’m slightly sympathetic to the author’s situation, given her health problems and her children, as well as being a victim of horrendous sexual harassment, I still can’t muster more than that because her inaction directly led to Meta becoming what it is today. She saw what was going on, and not ONCE thought to become a whistleblower - actually, no: she DID think about becoming a whistleblower, but crucially, DID NOT ACTUALLY BECOME ONE. And partially because of her, dozens of innocents like Kian delos Santos are dead, thanks to the Facebook-fueled election of Rodrigo Duterte: an election that not only killed hundreds of people, but continues to leave the Philippines more deeply-entrenched in corruption, and has altered the political landscape so much that it’s gotten harder to dig the country out of its current nightmare spiral. Compared to that, it’s hard to muster up sympathy for a white woman from a First World country with a US dollar Facebook salary, despite what she’s been through.

Overall, this was an interesting, if rage-inducing, read. I don’t think anyone will be too surprised by what is going on with Meta/Facebook, given revelations across the news in recent years, but it’s still possible to be caught off-guard by how deeply the apathy, carelessness, greed, and sociopathy run in the company’s upper echelons. It may also be possible to spare some sympathy for the author, but given the enormity of the effects of her decisions (as well as her silence on some crucial elements to this story, such as the role of Cambridge Analytica in influencing elections through social media), that sympathy will be very thin indeed, if readers can manage to muster it.