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reads like a 101 world politics primer. juxtaposition being all, each snippet vies on the page for equal attention. all I had was a building sense that nothing mattered more or less than anything else. and when, with scarce 30 pages left of the novel to go Lizzie, the protagonist, is asked what she is most scared of, top of her list is dentistry. Her teeth, for goodness' sake. if this is the dread the novel has been building towards, and for which Ocean Vuong would have us prostrate ourselves to, then, really, the state of the world.
I don't understand how this novel could be put on the same tier and Maggie O'Farrell and Hilary Mantel on the shortlist for the 2020 Women's Prize for Fiction. It doesn't even seem like fiction to me as there's hardly a plot. This slim volume of random paragraphs loosely gathered into an order doesn't even tell a story. Not recommended
I bought this book as the reviews of it were good. A review is only one person's opinion, and sometimes I suspect that the authors family write them! I'm sorry to say that I found this book totally boring and uncohesive. If there was a plot, then I struggled to find it. Shan't bother with reviews in future, but shall read the relevant synopsis and make up my own mind.
"Weather " is yet another fragmented, MFA-chic, tedious narration of boring events in the life of a contemporary jaded writer. From "Orange, Fame, Citrus" to now, I suspect we are being served up the barely edited journal entries of frantic careerists forced to meet deadlines. To add insult to shoddiness, the book is both tiny - 205 pages including acknowledgments, 5"X7.5" for $23.95. You have been warned. If you want to read real fiction, read Colm Toibin or Lee Barnes or Tana French.
Oh Higher Power! Please save us from tripe like this "novel"! I was sucked in to buying it on the basis of false advertising reviews featured before its publication suggesting that it wrestled with the perplexities of all of us trying to come to grips with the worst fears and risks as we strive to contextualize something so stark and unfathomable as global warming into the routines of our everyday lives. Instead, the most sustained theme in the story is Lizzie the protagonist's engulfing crisis that involves her effort to assist her brother Henry to get drug and mental therapy and quell his thoughts of killing her newly born daughter Iris after the failure of his short-lived marriage to Catherine. Climate change drifts in and out of focus in the novel's fragmented plot as an omnipresent, but muted, subtheme at best. The conundrums of weaving so horrific a threat in a manner that acknowledges its interperspnal import and demands collective response deserve much more formidable writing prowess than deployed in what passes for a new and rising subgenre within literary fiction these days. I feel cheated and conned both by its republication marketing and release!
Maybe there'll be a point later, but I don't feel much need to slog through poorly crafted prose, with no plot, a boring heroine, no deep understanding of human nature. Of course I haven't finished it and I probably won't.
This may appeal to some, but it seems to be the worst thing I've read in a decade.
So I decided to treat myself during the pandemic and buy 2 ebooks. I am very sad that I spent $12 on this book. I'm actually more angry than sad, because I can't believe this is a published book. And yes, I finished it because I paid $12 for it, and because I must be wrong, because of all the great reviews the book has gotten.
Weather is basically a stream of consciousness from the author. Sometimes it is punctuated with jokes. Very little happens, and I guess that's true of life, but no one reads or experiences my life, or pays for it. It is "about" Lizzie, a librarian, her addicted/mentally ill brother, her husband and son, and a few other people. Anything that resembles a plot could be written in 10 pages- good marriage, normal child, sick brother. Lizzie is obsessed with a catastrophe happening, and begins thinking like a prepper, but takes no steps, just thinks.
I enjoyed the jokes, but I didn't find the rest of the writing particularly interesting or good. Lots of modern day clichés- women are invisible after 50, white people have privilege, people are uncaring. It was a bad, boring book, I am very sorry I spent my money on it.
It's as though the author kept a notebook of observations, then subsequently submitted it to her editor as ready for publication. Some of the author's jokes are funny. Otherwise, this book is chock full of left-wing mumbo jumbo. If that's your jam, then go for it.
This was an extremely disappointing book. Like her book, Dept. of Speculation, this book is a rambling incoherent, stream-of-consciousness thoughts. There is a thread of a plot that loosely weaves it way through the random bits of prose, but very loosely.
After reading Dept. of Speculation, and being disappointed, I was hoping this was a better offering from Offill. Unfortunately, it was not. Waste neither your time nor money.
I am not for sure where all the rave reviews come from. Offill is one of those authors people like to champion, whether or not they have ever read her or not, and if so, liked her writing or not.