A List of What I’ve Read On My Free Time

All the Ugly and Wonderful Things, Bryn Greenwood

Prep, Curtis Sittenfeld

Films of the New French Extremity, Alexandra West

Leave the World Behind, Rumaan Alam

If We Were Villains, M.L. Rio

Rock Paper Scissors, Alice Feeney

Boy Parts, Eliza Clark

Tampa, Alissa Nutting

My Dark Vanessa, Kate Elizabeth Russell

— A novel written from the view of Dolores; it copies scenes from Lolita. It feels very preachy and victim-blaming. Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson approaches this in much more effective way, and was published years before Lolita was—it doesn’t depend on so many excerpts and references like My Dark Vanessa does, and was written from Jackson’s experience with her own husband from the point-of-view of the young girls he was preying on. It was very feminist for her to side with these girls, writing an entire novel from their perspective and dedicating it to her children. All in all, don’t recommend My Dark Vanessa; without using Lolita as a crutch, the page count would be 0.

The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro

— Tragic.

The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton

The Custom of the Country, Edith Wharton

— A comedy of manners about an unhinged woman moving up the ranks of society.

House of Mirth, Edith Wharton

— An illustration of the absence of humanity in society’s upper-crust, how most will take and not give, regardless of how well off they are, and the cruelty that is commonplace to protect what they’ve stockpiled. It doubly shows those with power are well off, and to exert power, one must have power. This is shown with how easily to is to destroy of woman of lesser means who is still a purveyor of society, and is done so by another woman who is more established due to being married to a wealthy man. Men have the most power and are not subject to the same criticisms as women, with women married to wealthy men having the second to most power. Another novel from the gilded age that is still very relevant today.

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

— Describes the detriments of emphasizing a person’s beauty above all other aspects of a person like intelligence, morals, achievements, etc. and how it causes someone to try to preserve that beauty at any cost while ignoring the nurturing of the other areas of personal development, causing shallow, cruel, people. Very relevant to current times, likely even more so with the seemingly ubiquitous use of plastic surgery, instagram filters, and salon services these days.

Cleopatra and Frankenstein, Coco Mellors

— Every character in this book is described as having long eyelashes and hair like curtains.. all in all, just embarrassed to have read this lol.

Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro

— This book is about a relationship most have had, with someone who seems to lie pathologically, whether it’s about small things to make themselves feel better about their insecurities, or in the workplace working with someone who clearly lied on their resume; it explores how far we go to defend the person who lies, pretending to go along and even shielding them from being “found out,” as well as the other aspects like getting fed up with the lies and calling them out at times, but with tact since someone who lies will always lie more to avoid admitting their falsehoods. This book looks at that type of relationship within the setting of a dystopian society where the protagonist sees the person who lies as someone who doesn’t want to deal with what their reality is, which is bleak, and since the person who lies is someone the protagonist loves deeply, she supports her endlessly. The novel makes you ask the question, why do I find myself defending a person like this who I don’t really like or respect? And the answer is compassion. Throughout the novel, there is an investigation of whether these clones have a soul, and we as the reader, know they do because the story is told through the protagonist who is a clone. There is a poetic justice about it being written in this way. This was an interesting character study that I haven’t read or seen anything like before.

Normal People, Sally Rooney

— A similar narrative to A Girl’s Story, however, what Rooney says in 250+ pages, Ernaux would accomplish in a paragraph. Rich, concise language and saying more as it relates to philosophy and the human condition beyond a simple plot is what make’s Enaux’s a masterpiece and Rooney’s a “beach read.”

A Girl’s Story, Annie Ernaux

— A woman in her 70s writes an autobiographical tale about early experiences in her life that shaped her.. she describes her first time on her own without her parents after living a sheltered life, not sure how to relate to boys and men since she never had before, and being called a “whore around the edges” by her peers for her naivety and the subsequent rejection from one of the men she has relations with. She details how that rejection led to her wanting to mold herself to a person that man wouldn’t reject and how that influenced where she is now. This is a study of memory and how it shapes or doesn’t shape us, how much it represents who we are, and if we are a summation of our memories. It’s also a reflection of the passing of time and an existential musing on why we should or shouldn’t care so much about self criticism in the moment to have confidence but also juxtapositions the counterpoint that if we do, we rework our selves to achieve greater accomplishments.

The Group, Mary McCarthy

— All the male characters in this book were horrible and it seemed living in the 1930’s as a woman was hell unless you were wealthy enough to be a lesbian or never marry—and this was from the perspective of those who came from families well off enough to send their daughters to Vassar, so it was probably even worse for those less privileged.

Black Swans, Eve Babitz

— Can definitely see how Bret Easton Ellis was influenced by her work.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Washington Irving

— I liked this for the same reason I love the Little House books when I was a kid; for the history.

Either/Or, Elif Batuman

— Internal dialogue of a 19-year-old college sophomore written by someone with a PhD in comparative literature, it reads like a thesis and even has a works cited page. Conversation throughout reads as if her peers are all also PhD English students with an expert knowledge and understanding of literature to support the author’s arguments around compulsive heterosexuality. Realistically, college students do not converse with one another this way and are definitely not as well-read, but the novel is nonetheless a wonderful read.

The Hellbound Heart, Clive Barker

— Great writing.

Carrie, Stephen King

Salem’s Lot, Stephen King

The Shining, Stephen King

— Salem’s Lot was definitely Stephen King’s sleeper hit—one sees how many movies and novels he’s influenced with this work, yet it hasn’t gotten as many adaptions as his other’s. Midnight Mass and Chobsky’s Imaginary Friend completely ripped it off. He should’ve named The Shining, Misery. This book is depressing and claustrophobic, and not like the movie, which is one of my favorites. Kubrick’s interpretation is much better than the source material.

Tell Me Lies, Carola Lovering

— This is not typically a book I’d buy, but I saw the new series based on the book out on Hulu and googled the production company, Belletrist — fronted by Emma Roberts and her friend, who dresses like a Hunter S. Thompson cosplay, I thought the book might be good. The first paragraph reads: “I wake up two minutes before my 5:45 a.m. alarm goes off, on instinct, like the neurotic, sleep-deprived New Yorker I’ve become. My head kills from the wine—Dane and I split two bottles with the dinner I paid for—but I force myself out of bed anyway. Three Advil, two cups of coffee, and an Adderall and I’ll survive the day. And isn’t that what New York is all about anyway—surviving? Dane stirs in the bed while I’m putting on my Lululemons. The new ones—size 4, not the 2s from senior year. Ugh”

At that point I was at a crossroads: do I not read this clearly trite nonsense and take a loss or do I continue on and look at this as an anthropological experiment to get a glimpse into a basic’s life? I chose the latter and this is my opinion: this book is superficial, the characters are shallow, and it is all about money. Stephen doesn’t have any; Lucy is a spoiled brat from somewhere on Long Island—she gets everything she wants but Stephen. Stephen is surrounded by vacuous women like Lucy and rightly doesn’t become too emotionally involved with them and only has physical relationships with them. Lucy is unable to connect with others beyond the physical pane, which is why she is obsessed with her appearance and with Stephen’s compliments of her appearance (Stephen at one point tells Lucy that they know nothing about each other years into their affair). Somehow Stephen is painted as the bad guy throughout the book. I would argue they both are. If you’re not convinced that Lucy is as vacant and elitist as I argue, at one point she says the only class she is failing is her diversity requirement because “Toni Morrison is overrated”—clearly missing the point as to why we read Toni Morrison. The book is peppered with barf-inducing comments and actions like these from Lucy, and the sad thing is, I don’t think it’s self aware.

Hell House, Richard Matheson

— Another vintage horror novel like Rosemary’s Baby. I really liked the descriptions of the house.

The Between, Tananarive Due

— Don’t skip the introduction. Loved the visuals.

The Shining Girls, Lauren Beukes

— Corn-fest! Will watch the series though since Jamie Bell is in it and I loved him in Nymphomaniac Vol. II.

Lapvona, Ottessa Moshfegh

— Loved the witchy themes and the the woman character living on the fringe of the community. Looks at martyrdom of bullying and physical disfigurement, as well as entitled males.

Roald Dahl’s Book of Ghost Stories, misc.

— A curation of ghost stories by Roald Dahl. The introduction revealed Dahl to be a total misogynist. The book had some good ghost stories with marvelous writing (The Corner Shop by Cynthia Asquith) and some predictable, boring, Victorian-era stories — a dictionary is definitely required for some archaic words.

Rosemary’s Baby, Ira Levin

Son of Rosemary, Ira Levin

— Rosemary’s Baby reads exactly like the movie watches. It has a lot of black humor which I enjoy a lot and I love the vintage vocabulary and descriptions. Son of Rosemary was nothing like it’s prequel but was nevertheless terrifying — reviews on Good Reads have some saying the ending was a cop-out but clearly they misunderstood!

White is for Witching, Helen Oyeyemi

— The Shirley Jackson influences are quite evident; I liked it.

McGlue, Ottessa Moshfegh

— A character study of an alcoholic during the late 1800’s. Blacking out and memory loss are a recurring theme in all of Moshfegh’s novels.

Little Star, John Ajvide Lindqvist

— Loved! This book reads fast and the protagonists are born the same year as me so I relate to their coming-to-age.

The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood

The Testaments, Margaret Atwood

— Since I watched the hulu series, the Handmaid’s Tale was a fast read with no surprises; I liked the Testaments better since it was all new and Margaret Atwood’s writing definitely matured more — the Handmaid’s Tale would have passages that would end with three synonyms separated by commas to describe something, but some of the word choices seemed out-of-place, like she relied too heavily on a thesaurus.

Where the Crawdads Sing, Delia Owens

— The first half was great, the second half was rushed with some dialogue that seemed like something I’d write in my high school creative writing class (stilted and immature).

Dublin Murder Squad Box Set (Books 1 - 6), Tana French

— Broken Harbor

— The Secret Place

— The Trespasser

The descriptions, imagery and culture that made me love The Searcher and the first three in the box set was not present in the last three. It made me question whether the other novels were actually good or if it was just a compulsion that made me read the box set, like when you watch every episode of a terrible netflix series until you’re sick with yourself.

— Faithful Place: Frank Mackey delivers the greatest dialogue out of any of French’s characters thus far. Cooper, the pathologist, does as well and is reminiscent of Albert Rosenfield from Twin Peaks. I learned a lot about Irish history and class resentments in this one. It’s very apparent who the murderer is from the beginning, but like Frank says in the novel, the difference between undercover and murder is that undercover pinpoints the suspect early on and moves like a big cat, slowly closing in.

— The Likeness: This is a lot like The Secret History by Donna Tartt. The ending is predictable and I was hoping that it’d be a bombshell ending with Detective Maddox, but it was otherwise well-written and I enjoyed reading. It’s a great precursor to the next novel that has Frank as the protagonist: he sees early on who committed the crime and it’s now a question of gathering the evidence; Maddox doesn’t see it and let’s the relationships she creates while undercover cloud her judgement. It shows how superior Frank is at his job, which is emphasized in the next novel in the box set. Maddox cannot remove herself and look at situations objectively, while in Faithful Place, Frank speaks to the frame of mind he enters while in undercover: where he is looking from a bird’s eye view, poking at and nudging people when he has to get them to react in the way that benefits the case.

— In the Woods: There are two mysteries the reader is trying to solve in this novel: what happened to Detective Ryan’s childhood friends and who killed Katy Devlin. Both are shocking, however, the former is still left up to the reader to decide based on the evidence they’ve been provided. This is my theory without researching what it could be on forums or watching the Dublin Murders (I’m assuming this is shown in the TV show?): Detective Ryan (Rob) killed his friends in the woods, and these are the reasons why I think this:

Cassie tells the story about the person she knew before who was a psychopath, and why she dropped out of school — this person and her were close friends and he tried to kiss her; when she rejected him, he made up lies and ruined all her friendships at school. Rob (Detective Ryan) stays at her house and he kisses her, she waits while and is apprehensive but kisses back knowing he’s a psychopath (Rob) and would get the same reaction from him if she rejected him.

Jonathon Devlin tells Rob about seeing a larger person like a man in the woods laughing maniacally a few nights before Rob’s friends disappear. Shortly after this interaction, there is internal dialogue from Rob where he explains he was tall and large for his age at the time his friends disappeared, then later on laughs maniacally to himself — Devlin’s description of the person of the woods is foreshadowing to Rob’s description of himself at that time.

Rob relates to Rosalind and her lying, saying that he used to make the same lies when he was young — he establishes a close bond with her based on their similarities in personality. Later on, Rosalind is revealed to be the mastermind of her sister’s murder.

Rob wants to work the case while keeping his real identity a secret so that he can be the first to know if they find any incriminating evidence against him.

Throughout the book, Rob says he lies and at the end says he fooled us (the reader). From this, we find that Rob is an unreliable narrator and that he believes he’s fooled us into believing he didn’t murder his friends, and have fooled us into thinking his reasons for joining the Murder Squad had nothing to do with the disappearance of his friends when he has proven he is careless in his work and at his job. We also learn that he slept with his roommate, Heather, at the end and that he treated her poorly as well — the same way he treated Cassie — showing his history of a lack of empathy, even for those closest to him.

In the end, Rob fantasizes about murdering Rosalind because she tricked him, which is similar to the way Cassie says a pyschopath gets emotional — when they don’t get their way or because they’re bored, not because they feel empathy or fear (this alludes to the Cooper character in Faithful Place where Frank Mackey knows that Cooper hates most people because they bore him, and Frank knows how to keep Cooper intrigued and plays to that).

The motive could be that Rob was rejected by Jamie (one of his friends that disappeared in the woods) when he kissed her the day she disappeared, and is foreshadowed by Cassie’s story about her experience with a psychopath, and what happens between Cassie and Rob when he kisses her. At the end, Rob returns to the woods as it’s being cleared by workers. He approaches one and asks if they’ve found any bodies. Throughout forensic cases, it’s known that the killer always returns to the scene of the crime and has a fascination with the case. The worker tells Rob he’s only found this arrowhead and asks if he wants it for his investigation. Rob tells the worker no, knowing full well it has nothing to do with the investigation. He wants people to continue to think that something supernatural is what could’ve caused the disappearance of his friends — the supernatural theme is touched upon throughout and symbolizes the habit of people to want to ignore what’s real and attribute devastation to something out of their control. Katy’s body was placed on the altar for reasons that had nothing to do with the supernatural, but the coincidence could’ve led someone to believe it was.

Imaginary Friend, Stephen Chobsky

— The first 300 pages were great, the remaining 400 were reminiscent of the final scene of Darren Aronofsky’s Mother! The storyline was incoherent and half-baked. It reminded me a bit of the Netflix series, Midnight Mass.

The Searcher, Tana French

— I had low expectations for this one because it was a part of the buy one, get 50% offer at B&N which led to me reading the title below. It turned out to be extremely well-written with beautiful descriptions of Irish landscapes and culture, and I ended up buying the entire Dublin Murder Squad box set to read. I always thought that I wasn’t a fan of Irish culture but really have only been exposed to American Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations which are very far from what it really is.

Pretty As A Picture, Elizabeth Little

— I bought this because it was 50% off at Barnes & Noble and isn’t something I’d typically read, but it was okay and a little phony. This was described as being a good read for cinephiles, but only references mainstream movies.

Homesick for Another World, Ottessa Moshfegh

— Character studies of all the types of weirdos you’ve probably seen throughout your life. Great writing, never corny.

The Silent Patient, Alex Michaelides

— This was an entertaining read with banal writing.

Less Than Zero, Bret Easton Ellis

— After finishing the Secret History, I read an article on Esquire about the Secret Oral History of Bennington College, where it talks about the relationship Donna Tartt and Bret Easton Ellis had there and their experiences. I decided to read the book Bret Easton Ellis published while a student at Bennington. It’s a dull book with lot’s of run-on sentences with too many “and”s.

The Secret History, Donna Tartt

— Really well written! The characters remind me a bit of how the costumes and personalities are developed in those cheesy made-for-TV SciFi channel movies, though.

The Idiot, Elif Batuman

— Extremely well-written. The humor is self-depracating which I didn’t find very funny but I enjoyed reading about other’s college experiences.

The Piano Teacher, Elfriede Jelinek

— I had to read the book after seeing the film directed by Michael Haneke (Funny Games, Amour). It’s just as good as the movie.

Death In Her Hands, Ottessa Moshfegh

My Year of Rest and Relaxation, Ottessa Moshfegh

Eileen, Ottessa Moshfegh

— Ottessa Moshfegh is my new favorite writer, she’s a modern Shirley Jackson.

Annihilation, Jeff VanderMeer

Authority, Jeff VanderMeer

— I saw Annihilation in theaters a few years ago directed by Alex Garland (Ex Machina!, Devs, 28 Days Later) and had to read the books as well. They are page-turners.

Fresh Complaint, Jeffrey Eugenides

The Marriage Plot, Jeffrey Eugenides

— I had to read this compilation of stories and his most recent novel since I read the Virgin Suicides in high school and loved the Sofia Coppola adaptation.

The Comeback, Ella Berman

— Horrible! I thought I’d sample a book from the Book-of-the-Month membership before subscribing and am glad I didn’t!

Let The Right One In, John Ajvide Lindqvist

— Loved!

The Vegetarian, Han Kang

— This book reminds me of the film, Swallow (2019). I loved both.

The Ruins, Scott Smith

— A creepy page-turner, not a literary masterpiece or anything, just fun.

Night Film, Marisha Pessl

— A slow burner, not very spooky, just okay.

Hangsaman, Shirley Jackson

We Have Always Lived In A Castle, Shirley Jackson

The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson

— The best American author, in my opinion.

Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides

— A classic for a reason.

The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt

— Terrific writing, however, the overwhelming infantilism and a weird Harry Potter feeling throughout the novel made it unenjoyable.

Palo Alto Stories, James Franco

Actor’s Anonymous, James Franco

— Raunchy, wannabe Chuck Palahniuk stuff. Read the books since I liked the Gia Coppola film, Palo Alto.

American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis

— I read this as satirical perspective of capitalism, however, I understand most people read it literally and that some men look up to Patrick Bateman (abhorrent misogynists).