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Gingarderoben
I sin debutroman skildrar Leslie Jamison den värld vi känner från hennes essäer i Empatiproven: kvinnor och beroende, en existens i samhällets utkanter. Den unga Stella söker upp sin moster Tilly som lever i en trailerpark och som är på god väg att supa ihjäl sig. Stella tror kanske att hon kan rädda henne. Eller åtminstone förstå varför hon lämnade allt för trettio år sedan.
Ginskåpet är ingen flyktfantasi utan en långsam och säker hjärtekrossare. The San Fransisco Cronicle
Leslie Jamisons Empatiproven kom på svenska hösten 2016. Hon växte upp i Los Angeles, studerade vid Harvard, har gått författarutbildningen i Iowa och doktorerar nu vid Yale.
Jamison skulle kunna vara barnbarn till Joan Didion och Susan Sontag. The Atlantic
Ginskåpet är ingen flyktfantasi utan en långsam och säker hjärtekrossare. The San Fransisco Cronicle
Leslie Jamisons Empatiproven kom på svenska hösten 2016. Hon växte upp i Los Angeles, studerade vid Harvard, har gått författarutbildningen i Iowa och doktorerar nu vid Yale.
Jamison skulle kunna vara barnbarn till Joan Didion och Susan Sontag. The Atlantic
350 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2010
96 people are currently reading
2655 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 195 reviews
September 20, 2012
Three things this novel does that I wish more contemporary novels did:
Renders the way people stammer at each other
Juxtaposes of families and lovers being awkward and conflict-avoidant with each other with super-dramatic sex and death scenes
Makes me like the characters best when they're messing other people's shit up for no rational reason and messing up their own lives
Otherwise it's hard to quantify what makes it so good except that each sentence is beautifully written and each character feels whole and painfully real.
Renders the way people stammer at each other
Juxtaposes of families and lovers being awkward and conflict-avoidant with each other with super-dramatic sex and death scenes
Makes me like the characters best when they're messing other people's shit up for no rational reason and messing up their own lives
Otherwise it's hard to quantify what makes it so good except that each sentence is beautifully written and each character feels whole and painfully real.
July 21, 2019
I am an extreme Leslie Jamison fan; The Empathy Exams is easily one of my top 10 modern essay collections, and I found The Recovering shivery good, raw and revelatory.
I'd always intended to get to this one, her debut, and I'm glad I finally did! But reading it so far after the fact was a strange experience. It's definitely a young book—juvenile and sweet and dark and hard and glimmering. But at this point it was too much like reading a rough draft, particularly since in The Recovering she does so much work to self-analyze who she was as a person, an author, and an alcoholic when she wrote this. It felt, in retrospect, almost too revealing, as if I now knew the inside of her heart too much to be able to see the book at its proper literary/fictional remove.
But all the same, it's very good; Jamison is one of our best writers working today, I think, and even in her nascency she shines.
I'd always intended to get to this one, her debut, and I'm glad I finally did! But reading it so far after the fact was a strange experience. It's definitely a young book—juvenile and sweet and dark and hard and glimmering. But at this point it was too much like reading a rough draft, particularly since in The Recovering she does so much work to self-analyze who she was as a person, an author, and an alcoholic when she wrote this. It felt, in retrospect, almost too revealing, as if I now knew the inside of her heart too much to be able to see the book at its proper literary/fictional remove.
But all the same, it's very good; Jamison is one of our best writers working today, I think, and even in her nascency she shines.
February 11, 2010
I was completely thrilled, altered and overtaken by The Gin Closet, which I had the great luck of reviewing this past January. I can’t voice enough excited praise in favor of this novel. Jamison’s prose is attuned to the cadence of poetry, while driven by an energetic narrative impulse.
The novel is split between the first-person perspectives of Stella, “so greedy for everyone else’s” life, and her estranged aunt Tilly, a severe alcoholic and former prostitute in a trailer park in stark isolation in the desert. Their voices dovetail and frame a portrait of the entire spectrum of personal suffering and the pain within intimacy. Outward from the horrific, gin closet (Tilly’s private drinking space in which lie a bare mattress and countless gin bottles) spins much of the catastrophic drama of the novel.
Jamison demonstrates her acute trust both in the consciousness of her characters and her readers. Stella and Tilly, who want to be both seen and unseen in their shame and sickness, struggle in their relationships, Stella with her icy mother and a married man, Tilly with her child Abe and her ultimate, tortured relationship with drug and drink. Both women desire intimacy but cannot bridge the vulnerability it demands, and so must manifest their incommunicable needs to one another through self-destruction. They expose their wounds to one another to communicate.
At the points most writers stumble, lurch and turn away, Jamison stands still, stares, and turns our faces to stare along with her.
Of particular importance is the oblique beauty and taut sensuality of Jamison’s language and imagery. Where Stella’s speech is intricate and nested, Tilly’s speech has a blunt lyricism: “Dry days were long. The hours piled. Clocks moved slowly. The minutes of my life stretched out like the salt flats…”
I cannot recommend this book enough. Jamison is a writer we need to know and apprehend, and will continue to for a very long time.
The novel is split between the first-person perspectives of Stella, “so greedy for everyone else’s” life, and her estranged aunt Tilly, a severe alcoholic and former prostitute in a trailer park in stark isolation in the desert. Their voices dovetail and frame a portrait of the entire spectrum of personal suffering and the pain within intimacy. Outward from the horrific, gin closet (Tilly’s private drinking space in which lie a bare mattress and countless gin bottles) spins much of the catastrophic drama of the novel.
Jamison demonstrates her acute trust both in the consciousness of her characters and her readers. Stella and Tilly, who want to be both seen and unseen in their shame and sickness, struggle in their relationships, Stella with her icy mother and a married man, Tilly with her child Abe and her ultimate, tortured relationship with drug and drink. Both women desire intimacy but cannot bridge the vulnerability it demands, and so must manifest their incommunicable needs to one another through self-destruction. They expose their wounds to one another to communicate.
At the points most writers stumble, lurch and turn away, Jamison stands still, stares, and turns our faces to stare along with her.
Of particular importance is the oblique beauty and taut sensuality of Jamison’s language and imagery. Where Stella’s speech is intricate and nested, Tilly’s speech has a blunt lyricism: “Dry days were long. The hours piled. Clocks moved slowly. The minutes of my life stretched out like the salt flats…”
I cannot recommend this book enough. Jamison is a writer we need to know and apprehend, and will continue to for a very long time.
September 16, 2020
Auf das Buch aufmerksam geworden bin ich durch Lina Mallon. Sie hatte es auf Instagram in ihren Stories gezeigt und so ist es auf meine "Muss ich mir mal genauer anschauen" - Liste gewandert. Danach bin ich mehrere Male im Buchladen um das Buch herum geschlichen, bevor ich es dann doch irgendwann mitgenommen habe.
Der Gin Trailer ist die Geschichte von zwei Frauen, welche beide nicht in der Lage sind, sich gegenseitig selbst zu retten. Erzählt wird die Story entweder aus Stellas oder Tillys Sicht.
Wir lernen Stella kennen, welche sich um ihre sterbende Großmutter Lucy kümmert. Mit ihrem Leben in New York ist sie alles andere als zufrieden. Sie arbeitet als persönliche Assistentin für eine Tyrannin und hat eine Affäre mit einem verheirateten Mann, welchem sie egal ist, er ihr aber nicht. Nach und nach erfährt man ein paar Details aus Stellas Kindheit und das zerrüttete Verhältnis zu ihrer Mutter Dora, welche eine Anwältin für Einwanderungsrecht ist. Die Probleme mit ihrer Mutter und die schwierige Kindheit haben Stella in die Magersucht getrieben, weil ihr dies das Gefühl von Kontrolle über sich selbst gegeben hat. Auch wenn Stella die Magersucht nun besiegt hat, merkt man an der Art und Weise, wie sie über die Jahre, in denen sie gehungert hat, spricht, dass ein gewisser Stolz involviert ist.
Als es Lucy immer schlechter geht, fragt sie nach Matilda und Stella erfährt so, dass Sie eine Tante hat. Nachdem Lucy gestorben ist, entscheidet Stella, sich auf die Suche nach Tilly zu machen und ihr die Nachricht vom Tod der Mutter zu überbringen.
Tillys Story ist noch schmerzvoller als Stellas und reicht von Alkoholismus, Misshandlung bis hin zu Prostitution. Ihre Geschichte ist so schmerzhaft, dass man diesen fast am eigenen Körper spürt. Auch ihr Verhältnis zu ihrer Mutter war zerrüttet. Nach einem ersten, vorsichtigen Kennenlernen entscheiden sich Stella und Tilly, das jeweils alte Leben zurückzulassen und gemeinsam ein neues Leben mit der Hilfe von Tilly Sohn Abe zu beginnen.
Der Gintrailer ist eine Geschichte, deren Plot sich nur zwischen Stella und Tilly abspielt und nur wenig Spielraum für andere Charaktere lässt. Das ist natürlich keinesfalls schlecht, denn die Autorin gibt dem Leser genug Stoff zum Nachdenken. Zum einen wären da die kühlen Mutter-Tochter-Verhältnisse, die Art und Weise, wie die Frauen selbst zu sich und ihrem Körper stehen und was sie diesem antun mit Magersucht, Alkohol, Drogen und Prostitution und natürlich die schlechten Verhältnisse zu Männern. All das trägt zu dem Schmerz, welchen die Frauen erfahren, bei. Durch die abwechselnden Kapitel haben die Leser die Möglichkeit, Ereignisse mit den Augen beider Charaktere zu sehen, und führen einen vor Augen, wie man sich selbst wahrnimmt und wie andere einen sehen.
Das Buch ist wirklich traurig und man muss mehr als einmal schlucken und dennoch will man weiterlesen und wissen, wie die Geschichte weitergeht ... Vielleicht weil man Hoffnung auf eine Wendung des Plots hat. Die Erzählweise ist eher gemächlich, aber nicht so, dass es sich in die Länge ziehen würde. Manchmal ist der Schreibstil etwas stockend, aber das hat mich nicht sonderlich gestört. Das Ende kommt das fast etwas überraschend und ich hatte mir etwas mehr als Auflösung gewünscht.
Der Gin Trailer ist die Geschichte von zwei Frauen, welche beide nicht in der Lage sind, sich gegenseitig selbst zu retten. Erzählt wird die Story entweder aus Stellas oder Tillys Sicht.
Wir lernen Stella kennen, welche sich um ihre sterbende Großmutter Lucy kümmert. Mit ihrem Leben in New York ist sie alles andere als zufrieden. Sie arbeitet als persönliche Assistentin für eine Tyrannin und hat eine Affäre mit einem verheirateten Mann, welchem sie egal ist, er ihr aber nicht. Nach und nach erfährt man ein paar Details aus Stellas Kindheit und das zerrüttete Verhältnis zu ihrer Mutter Dora, welche eine Anwältin für Einwanderungsrecht ist. Die Probleme mit ihrer Mutter und die schwierige Kindheit haben Stella in die Magersucht getrieben, weil ihr dies das Gefühl von Kontrolle über sich selbst gegeben hat. Auch wenn Stella die Magersucht nun besiegt hat, merkt man an der Art und Weise, wie sie über die Jahre, in denen sie gehungert hat, spricht, dass ein gewisser Stolz involviert ist.
Als es Lucy immer schlechter geht, fragt sie nach Matilda und Stella erfährt so, dass Sie eine Tante hat. Nachdem Lucy gestorben ist, entscheidet Stella, sich auf die Suche nach Tilly zu machen und ihr die Nachricht vom Tod der Mutter zu überbringen.
Tillys Story ist noch schmerzvoller als Stellas und reicht von Alkoholismus, Misshandlung bis hin zu Prostitution. Ihre Geschichte ist so schmerzhaft, dass man diesen fast am eigenen Körper spürt. Auch ihr Verhältnis zu ihrer Mutter war zerrüttet. Nach einem ersten, vorsichtigen Kennenlernen entscheiden sich Stella und Tilly, das jeweils alte Leben zurückzulassen und gemeinsam ein neues Leben mit der Hilfe von Tilly Sohn Abe zu beginnen.
Der Gintrailer ist eine Geschichte, deren Plot sich nur zwischen Stella und Tilly abspielt und nur wenig Spielraum für andere Charaktere lässt. Das ist natürlich keinesfalls schlecht, denn die Autorin gibt dem Leser genug Stoff zum Nachdenken. Zum einen wären da die kühlen Mutter-Tochter-Verhältnisse, die Art und Weise, wie die Frauen selbst zu sich und ihrem Körper stehen und was sie diesem antun mit Magersucht, Alkohol, Drogen und Prostitution und natürlich die schlechten Verhältnisse zu Männern. All das trägt zu dem Schmerz, welchen die Frauen erfahren, bei. Durch die abwechselnden Kapitel haben die Leser die Möglichkeit, Ereignisse mit den Augen beider Charaktere zu sehen, und führen einen vor Augen, wie man sich selbst wahrnimmt und wie andere einen sehen.
Das Buch ist wirklich traurig und man muss mehr als einmal schlucken und dennoch will man weiterlesen und wissen, wie die Geschichte weitergeht ... Vielleicht weil man Hoffnung auf eine Wendung des Plots hat. Die Erzählweise ist eher gemächlich, aber nicht so, dass es sich in die Länge ziehen würde. Manchmal ist der Schreibstil etwas stockend, aber das hat mich nicht sonderlich gestört. Das Ende kommt das fast etwas überraschend und ich hatte mir etwas mehr als Auflösung gewünscht.
January 3, 2025
Good storytelling here—I really enjoyed the journey that Stella and Tilly took me on—but there was a lack of emotion in telling it. It’s a weird experience to read an author’s later works first and see how sharp and fine-tuned they are before going back to their debut where things are less so. I enjoyed this novel and while there is a lot to examine, it never felt, to me, like there was much to hold on to. The writing still feels undeniably Jamison with its heart-wrenching prose and meticulous language and I am actually grateful for this novel as it allows readers to see her grow from a budding young artist to the exquisite writer that she is now.
March 7, 2010
When Stella goes to visit her Grandmother Lucy for Christmas, she finds her on the kitchen floor, where she’d fallen earlier in the day. As Stella was helping her up, Lucy says, “I need Matilda.” Stella has never heard of anyone named Matilda and asks her brother if he knows who Matilda is.
Seeing that her grandmother needs help, Stella decides to spend every other night with her, helping to take care of her. While she’s taking care of her grandmother, Stella discovers that Matilda is her mother’s sister and is curious as to why she’s never before heard of her aunt. When Lucy passes away, Stella offers to deliver a letter to Matilda to let her know of the death of her mother, thus beginning their tenuous relationship.
The Gin Closet by Leslie Jamison is the story of a family’s dysfunction and the struggles of two members of that family to form a family of their own. The story is told in alternating viewpoints by Stella and Tilly (Matilda), so sometimes you get the same story told twice. Jamison tackles some tough issues, many of which will make the reader uncomfortable, in this beautifully written book. It’s hard to believe this is her debut novel.
I was drawn into this book right from the start. I was really curious about who Tilly was and wanted to know her story. The story mostly focuses on Tilly and at times I wanted to know more about Stella’s background, so I would know how she got to be in this place in her life. Tilly’s life is sad and she really frustrated me at times, yet my heart broke for her. The ending of the book left me sad and reflective. Overall, for me, this was a good (but not great) solid read.
Seeing that her grandmother needs help, Stella decides to spend every other night with her, helping to take care of her. While she’s taking care of her grandmother, Stella discovers that Matilda is her mother’s sister and is curious as to why she’s never before heard of her aunt. When Lucy passes away, Stella offers to deliver a letter to Matilda to let her know of the death of her mother, thus beginning their tenuous relationship.
The Gin Closet by Leslie Jamison is the story of a family’s dysfunction and the struggles of two members of that family to form a family of their own. The story is told in alternating viewpoints by Stella and Tilly (Matilda), so sometimes you get the same story told twice. Jamison tackles some tough issues, many of which will make the reader uncomfortable, in this beautifully written book. It’s hard to believe this is her debut novel.
I was drawn into this book right from the start. I was really curious about who Tilly was and wanted to know her story. The story mostly focuses on Tilly and at times I wanted to know more about Stella’s background, so I would know how she got to be in this place in her life. Tilly’s life is sad and she really frustrated me at times, yet my heart broke for her. The ending of the book left me sad and reflective. Overall, for me, this was a good (but not great) solid read.
June 28, 2020
No conocía a la autora, no conocía el libro y, ciertamente, no sabía lo qué me esperaba cuando comencé a leerlo: una historia triste de cuatro vidas rotas unidas por la desesperanza y el intento, si no de vivir, al menos de seguir adelante. Pronto tomé mi marca textos, que en mi práctica lectora, casi siempre es augurio de que un libro me va a gustar mucho. Y sí, aunque no me encantó todo de esta novela, al final es claro que Jamison no sólo tiene la historia, tiene también el lenguaje para contarla y hacerla desgarradora. Me dejó un poquin deprimida y eso es bueno, que un libro te mueva y te deje con ganas de acercarte más al autor, es muy bueno.
February 5, 2016
This is one of the bleakest stories I've read in a long time. There isn't a single character who isn't living in intense pain. Tilly's life is so sad that it was hard to read about it, especially when you know there are Tillys everywhere. There is no redemption for her in the end. Abe and Stella are lurching through their lives, unsettled, unhappy and making questionable choices. It is hard to imagine where they will go from here.
Honestly, what a downer of a novel.
Honestly, what a downer of a novel.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 30, 2016
I could not wait to be done with this book and kept hoping something interesting or unexpected would happen. The author writes details and descriptions seemingly because she learned that in a writing workshop somewhere. They are meaningless and choppy resulting in flat characters plotted out on a predictable story line. I would not recommend this book.
sampled
October 7, 2014Much tender flesh is abused in this novel -- through aging, alcoholism, eating disorders, sex with unlikable people, everyday violence -- and it eventually became too painful for me to continue.
July 21, 2017
Muy fácil de leer y muy difícil de digerir, es raro ver autoras hablando tan honestamente de la degradación femenina
Read
September 30, 2011[1] It begins slowly. It takes its time. Reading the blurb, all giddy, it’s like you submerge yourself in a tubful of water, and, extending the metaphor, the actual exposition is when you surface, all slow-mo. That’s how reading this novel is like. Is that a bad thing? No. Why? Let me explain: Jamison allows the Rudolph family to solidify before our eyes. By not immediately plunging us into the drama of that “fragile triangle,” the actual family dynamics—before meeting Tilly, how the family had changed upon her leaving thirty years ago—are better explored, better established. Did I wish things were speeded up a little? No, not really: One of the things I admired about this novel was that it was, for lack of a less trite phrase, calmly violent. It was leashing in all that angst and pain, making every scene charged, making every character interaction brim with meaning. Which is an odd observation, I know, for a family wrecked by estrangement and indifference, and many other demons—but that’s how it is. It’s painful because all those secrets, the weight of thirty years on the characters’ shoulders. You can’t insist on speed when you owe it not only to the readers, but to the characters themselves. Still, Jamison’s got such tight control, for a subject matter that could go every which way.
[2] Can I tell you how awesome the very concept of a Gin Closet is? It’s that little room in a house where you think you can store away all your demons. In Tilly’s case, it’s filled with bottles of gin. It’s where she rots, it’s where she’s held prisoner, it’s where she believes that things are under control as long as the demons stay locked inside that room with her. But, of course, she’s wrong. It’s genius, I tell you—you don’t need concrete rooms, you don’t need walls. Just your mind telling you, I can handle this, see how I can handle this?
“What do you need?” I asked. “How can I help you?”
“I do it in the dark,” she said. “I can’t stop.”
I stayed quiet. I let her keep going.
“I turn off the lights and take little sips—just little sips one after another. Then I sleep and I wake up and I think maybe, I don’t know, it’s stupid what I think, but maybe if there’s a door I can close… that maybe, I don’t know, it’s a kind of an ending.”
[3] One of the most laudable things about the crafting of this novel was its language. And, if you’ve been following me, you know I can’t talk about a book without talking about its language. And Jamison’s language blew me away. She has a way saying things plainly, but true, and raw, and honest—when the situation demands it. Look at this snippet of dialogue, one that focuses on how the characters never really talk to each other:
“Did you miss me?” I said.
He said, “I’m glad to be with you now.”
[4] Tilly, damaged Tilly, we never really know why she became the way she was, even with the alternating POV, she remains a mystery. The reader is left to conclude that perhaps some people are really just prone. We don’t even really know why Stella is doing what she’s doing—a messianic complex brought on by how crappy and pointless her own life is? Does Stella even know why she’s doing this? Is that lame? Am I making excuses for Tilly, for Stella, for this novel? I like to think that I’m not. I like to think that Tilly and Stella—and Abe, and Stella’s mother—are all too-human in that they’re unknown even to themselves (no, I will not bust out my Philo readings). I have always hated characters who know too well what they are, who know their motivations. There’s self-aware, and then there’s cardboard cut-out. So, yeah. That’s what I think.
[5] Also. You know what this book reminded me of? Change Baby, by June Spence. But this is grittier, if only because it’s set in cities rife with things that could easily be bad for you.
>> The Gin Closet is a meandering story of loss and redemption, and, yes, many failures. This is not a feel-good novel. You will not be inspired. If you want to believe in the fairy-tale goodness of people, I suggest you steer clear of this book. But if you want something human, something that speaks about how we disappoint ourselves, and we disappoint the people we love—how we walk away from things that we value, and can’t quite the things that will only destroy us—pick this novel up. It’ll be nerve-wrecking read, you’ll sigh many times. But it’s damned good storytelling, and I cannot wait for Jamison to litter our bookshelves with her work.
[2] Can I tell you how awesome the very concept of a Gin Closet is? It’s that little room in a house where you think you can store away all your demons. In Tilly’s case, it’s filled with bottles of gin. It’s where she rots, it’s where she’s held prisoner, it’s where she believes that things are under control as long as the demons stay locked inside that room with her. But, of course, she’s wrong. It’s genius, I tell you—you don’t need concrete rooms, you don’t need walls. Just your mind telling you, I can handle this, see how I can handle this?
“What do you need?” I asked. “How can I help you?”
“I do it in the dark,” she said. “I can’t stop.”
I stayed quiet. I let her keep going.
“I turn off the lights and take little sips—just little sips one after another. Then I sleep and I wake up and I think maybe, I don’t know, it’s stupid what I think, but maybe if there’s a door I can close… that maybe, I don’t know, it’s a kind of an ending.”
[3] One of the most laudable things about the crafting of this novel was its language. And, if you’ve been following me, you know I can’t talk about a book without talking about its language. And Jamison’s language blew me away. She has a way saying things plainly, but true, and raw, and honest—when the situation demands it. Look at this snippet of dialogue, one that focuses on how the characters never really talk to each other:
“Did you miss me?” I said.
He said, “I’m glad to be with you now.”
[4] Tilly, damaged Tilly, we never really know why she became the way she was, even with the alternating POV, she remains a mystery. The reader is left to conclude that perhaps some people are really just prone. We don’t even really know why Stella is doing what she’s doing—a messianic complex brought on by how crappy and pointless her own life is? Does Stella even know why she’s doing this? Is that lame? Am I making excuses for Tilly, for Stella, for this novel? I like to think that I’m not. I like to think that Tilly and Stella—and Abe, and Stella’s mother—are all too-human in that they’re unknown even to themselves (no, I will not bust out my Philo readings). I have always hated characters who know too well what they are, who know their motivations. There’s self-aware, and then there’s cardboard cut-out. So, yeah. That’s what I think.
[5] Also. You know what this book reminded me of? Change Baby, by June Spence. But this is grittier, if only because it’s set in cities rife with things that could easily be bad for you.
>> The Gin Closet is a meandering story of loss and redemption, and, yes, many failures. This is not a feel-good novel. You will not be inspired. If you want to believe in the fairy-tale goodness of people, I suggest you steer clear of this book. But if you want something human, something that speaks about how we disappoint ourselves, and we disappoint the people we love—how we walk away from things that we value, and can’t quite the things that will only destroy us—pick this novel up. It’ll be nerve-wrecking read, you’ll sigh many times. But it’s damned good storytelling, and I cannot wait for Jamison to litter our bookshelves with her work.
April 25, 2022
This is one of those novels that had disappeared under the stacks of unread ones that pile up on the little stool in my office. I bought it in 2019, and do not remember why, but it presented itself to me this week after I had finished an engrossing but quite detached read. Reading this novel is not an easy experience. It is raw and exquisitely precise about some of the most unspeakable feelings that sustain mothers and daughters, sisters, mothers and sons, men and women, women and men, and the widely divergent timelines they trace across the mass of land called the USA. The Gin Closet is not a "masterpiece" or the Great American Novel--it speaks wrenchingly about the everyday attempts of average people to somehow be and do their lives. It moved me profoundly. Leslie Jamison writes with compassion but casts a ruthless eye on her characters and the (non)choices their lives and the world and their times offer them, and does not hold back on how they mess things up, without providing easy explanations for their successes and failures, and therewith bitingly captures the messiness of it all.
May 12, 2011
This manages to be a beautifully written novel that's also a very fast read. I enjoyed devouring the story of twenty-something Stella and her alcoholic aunt Tilly. The narrative switches between both characters, and I loved each narrator's distinct voice. I also really liked the various settings: New York City, Connecticut, Arizona, San Francisco. So many lovely and rich and true details.
This is a dark tale about self-destruction and the limits of intimacy. There's a lot of good and sickening writing about misusing one's own body: for the oblivion of inebriation, for the welcome lightheadedness and attention that comes from not-eating, for the brief distraction of sex, that temporary relief of not being alone.
At times, the book felt a little angsty (I can't think of a better word) for my taste, and there was a meandering quality to the second half that made me long for a stronger narrative drive or focus (even as it remained readable). That said, I was totally taken into this dark, raw world, and I look forward to Jamison's next book!
This is a dark tale about self-destruction and the limits of intimacy. There's a lot of good and sickening writing about misusing one's own body: for the oblivion of inebriation, for the welcome lightheadedness and attention that comes from not-eating, for the brief distraction of sex, that temporary relief of not being alone.
At times, the book felt a little angsty (I can't think of a better word) for my taste, and there was a meandering quality to the second half that made me long for a stronger narrative drive or focus (even as it remained readable). That said, I was totally taken into this dark, raw world, and I look forward to Jamison's next book!
September 12, 2018
Quite a task to read this book. So I only read it half and then gave up. It was pretty depressing, looks like the characters are only experiencing misery and adversity in their lives (or believe they do), which is pretty unlikely.
It is not completely bad, but a pinch of humor had made it a more pleasant reading experience.
It's also possible that it's just not the right book for me at the moment.
It is not completely bad, but a pinch of humor had made it a more pleasant reading experience.
It's also possible that it's just not the right book for me at the moment.
December 25, 2010
Stella works as an assistant to a famous - and bitchy - writer; is having an affair with a married man, Louis; and takes care of her ailing grandmother, Lucy, whose decline in utter frailty shocks her. When her grandmother starts talking for the first time about a second daughter, Matilda, and vaguely hints at some tragedy or scandal, Stella is curious. But when Lucy dies and Stella finds out the family intends nothing more than to send Matilda - Tilly - a note from the lawyer, Stella decides to drive to Nevada with her brother Tom and meet the aunt she never knew she had, and tell her the news in person.
What she discovers isn't pretty. Tilly is an old drunk and an ex-prostitute, who is less than welcoming. But Stella persists, and learns about Tilly's son, Abe, whose father was one of her regular clients, back in the day - a successful man who took the child and raised him well. Abe sends Tilly money regularly, but if she can quit drinking there's a place for her in his home. Stella takes on the challenge, and together they arrive on Abe's doorstep, both hoping to start afresh.
This is Jamison's debut novel, and it's a very well crafted one. Both Tilly and Stella alternately narrate in first person voice, giving us not just different perspectives of situations, but of themselves and each other too. It's not overdone, but subtle; their individual voices come across distinctly without being over-powering or a cheesy effect. I sometimes take issue with writers who use some kind of fancy gimmick (or what to me is a fancy gimmick) in their work, especially in debut novels - it was my main problem with The Rehearsal , which I wanted to like but it just felt like the author was trying too hard, and Special Topics in Calamity Physics , which was so pretentious (read: wanky) I felt contempt for it. The Gin Closet, on the other hand, was written in a steady, quietly confident hand. Deceptively simple, there is some truly lovely prose here, unpretentious and dignified, which worked wonderfully with the subject matter.
I don't know about you, but I sometimes wonder, How many books do we need about people whose lives have wasted away to drink or drugs (or both), who are now pitiful, depressing aged versions of their younger selves, once so full of potential? How many of us really want to read such depressing stories, that don't even have happy endings? I know I don't tend to seek them out. We like our fluff, our fantasy, our romance with happy endings. We don't want to have to think about the life of the panhandler on the street, for instance, wrapped in a blanket against the cold, asking for change and, when you walk past without acknowledging them, wish you a good day regardless. (See, the homeless have better manners than most people in this city!)
And yet... and yet we do. We do want to know their stories. We do want to understand not just other people, but what ticks in the heart of us. Because every single one of us in one poor decision away from becoming a Tilly, for example. It's scary to realise how easily it can happen. We work so hard not to be homeless, destitute, an addict. We work so hard to keep hope alive in ourselves. It's not gross fascination that makes these stories appeal to us - it's our humanity. Our empathy.
I don't want to imply that the characters in The Gin Closet and similar stories are our charity cases: they're not. Though, for Stella, Tilly is. What they are is human, and flawed, and lost, and these are things we can easily identify with. Stella has issues; own life seems scattered and lost, and so she directs her energy at Tilly, helping her to sober up. She lives with Tilly and Abe, trying to help her aunt get a job, and support her through it all. For all her own weaknesses, Stella is at times impatient with Tilly's inability to function normally. The novel doesn't judge, doesn't try to explain Stella's motives beyond what other people think, and this allows us to see the greys in the situation.
Yet Tilly really is a pitiful woman. You can't help but feel sorry for her, in a kind of it's-too-late-now way. What angered me the most was a scene that showed all too clearly that what happened to Tilly was in a large part Lucy's fault. After Tilly makes her first teenaged-sized mistake and leaves home with a man, her mother refuses to welcome her back. As an old woman with a wandering mind, Lucy remembers it differently, and perhaps she's convinced herself that Matilda abandoned her instead, because what kind of mother shuns her child for making a mistake? Yet even that situation is far from black-and-white.
The Gin Closet did remind me of another book, one I read for a book club a few years ago: Belle Falls by Sherri Vanderveen. Another somewhat depressing bildungsroman, going back in time to show how this young, spunky woman ended up crazy and living in a caravan, accused of molesting a small boy. While I don't seek out these kinds of books, I do like them when I read them, generally. Perhaps it's the frankness, the bald honesty, of the prose. The condensed life, the feeling of knowing how it ends and not being able to look away - of owing it to the character to stand by, like a witness. To somehow honour their life, if that makes sense.
Because we walk past people every day, all day, without acknowledging their very existence, or wondering anything about them. I often think this is rather unnatural for us humans. We're innately curious. We love seeing inside other people's lives, learning their secrets. It's why gossip magazines and "reality" TV shows are so popular. I came across a new one the other day, about single teenaged mums. It's drama after drama, and tacky at that. Bogan, very bogan. But those single teen mums are now popping up on the cover of the equally tacky gossip magazines. Are we being manipulated into caring about them in order to increase ratings for the network? Or do people really care?
I digress - nay, ramble, as usual. But I do enjoy a book that makes me think about the world I live in, and The Gin Closet certainly does that. It never tries to manipulate you, to force you to feel something. It doesn't judge. While at times I wanted to get closer to the characters, push past the enforced sense of distance, the tinge of aloofness, that slight feeling of distance enables you to keep reading without becoming too blue. The focus of the novel is Matilda; it's her story, really. Her closet that she crawls into to drink gin and forget, numb herself to the world, to stop thinking. It's a confronting story without being melodramatic, and well worth reading.
My thanks to the author for the copy of this book.
What she discovers isn't pretty. Tilly is an old drunk and an ex-prostitute, who is less than welcoming. But Stella persists, and learns about Tilly's son, Abe, whose father was one of her regular clients, back in the day - a successful man who took the child and raised him well. Abe sends Tilly money regularly, but if she can quit drinking there's a place for her in his home. Stella takes on the challenge, and together they arrive on Abe's doorstep, both hoping to start afresh.
This is Jamison's debut novel, and it's a very well crafted one. Both Tilly and Stella alternately narrate in first person voice, giving us not just different perspectives of situations, but of themselves and each other too. It's not overdone, but subtle; their individual voices come across distinctly without being over-powering or a cheesy effect. I sometimes take issue with writers who use some kind of fancy gimmick (or what to me is a fancy gimmick) in their work, especially in debut novels - it was my main problem with The Rehearsal , which I wanted to like but it just felt like the author was trying too hard, and Special Topics in Calamity Physics , which was so pretentious (read: wanky) I felt contempt for it. The Gin Closet, on the other hand, was written in a steady, quietly confident hand. Deceptively simple, there is some truly lovely prose here, unpretentious and dignified, which worked wonderfully with the subject matter.
I don't know about you, but I sometimes wonder, How many books do we need about people whose lives have wasted away to drink or drugs (or both), who are now pitiful, depressing aged versions of their younger selves, once so full of potential? How many of us really want to read such depressing stories, that don't even have happy endings? I know I don't tend to seek them out. We like our fluff, our fantasy, our romance with happy endings. We don't want to have to think about the life of the panhandler on the street, for instance, wrapped in a blanket against the cold, asking for change and, when you walk past without acknowledging them, wish you a good day regardless. (See, the homeless have better manners than most people in this city!)
And yet... and yet we do. We do want to know their stories. We do want to understand not just other people, but what ticks in the heart of us. Because every single one of us in one poor decision away from becoming a Tilly, for example. It's scary to realise how easily it can happen. We work so hard not to be homeless, destitute, an addict. We work so hard to keep hope alive in ourselves. It's not gross fascination that makes these stories appeal to us - it's our humanity. Our empathy.
I don't want to imply that the characters in The Gin Closet and similar stories are our charity cases: they're not. Though, for Stella, Tilly is. What they are is human, and flawed, and lost, and these are things we can easily identify with. Stella has issues; own life seems scattered and lost, and so she directs her energy at Tilly, helping her to sober up. She lives with Tilly and Abe, trying to help her aunt get a job, and support her through it all. For all her own weaknesses, Stella is at times impatient with Tilly's inability to function normally. The novel doesn't judge, doesn't try to explain Stella's motives beyond what other people think, and this allows us to see the greys in the situation.
Yet Tilly really is a pitiful woman. You can't help but feel sorry for her, in a kind of it's-too-late-now way. What angered me the most was a scene that showed all too clearly that what happened to Tilly was in a large part Lucy's fault. After Tilly makes her first teenaged-sized mistake and leaves home with a man, her mother refuses to welcome her back. As an old woman with a wandering mind, Lucy remembers it differently, and perhaps she's convinced herself that Matilda abandoned her instead, because what kind of mother shuns her child for making a mistake? Yet even that situation is far from black-and-white.
The Gin Closet did remind me of another book, one I read for a book club a few years ago: Belle Falls by Sherri Vanderveen. Another somewhat depressing bildungsroman, going back in time to show how this young, spunky woman ended up crazy and living in a caravan, accused of molesting a small boy. While I don't seek out these kinds of books, I do like them when I read them, generally. Perhaps it's the frankness, the bald honesty, of the prose. The condensed life, the feeling of knowing how it ends and not being able to look away - of owing it to the character to stand by, like a witness. To somehow honour their life, if that makes sense.
Because we walk past people every day, all day, without acknowledging their very existence, or wondering anything about them. I often think this is rather unnatural for us humans. We're innately curious. We love seeing inside other people's lives, learning their secrets. It's why gossip magazines and "reality" TV shows are so popular. I came across a new one the other day, about single teenaged mums. It's drama after drama, and tacky at that. Bogan, very bogan. But those single teen mums are now popping up on the cover of the equally tacky gossip magazines. Are we being manipulated into caring about them in order to increase ratings for the network? Or do people really care?
I digress - nay, ramble, as usual. But I do enjoy a book that makes me think about the world I live in, and The Gin Closet certainly does that. It never tries to manipulate you, to force you to feel something. It doesn't judge. While at times I wanted to get closer to the characters, push past the enforced sense of distance, the tinge of aloofness, that slight feeling of distance enables you to keep reading without becoming too blue. The focus of the novel is Matilda; it's her story, really. Her closet that she crawls into to drink gin and forget, numb herself to the world, to stop thinking. It's a confronting story without being melodramatic, and well worth reading.
My thanks to the author for the copy of this book.
October 11, 2021
This was a tough read. Told from two viewpoints, adrift-in-her-20s Stella, who helps her grandmother to die, then sets out in search of her estranged aunt. And Tillie, the aunt, whose rebelliousness and alcoholism led to the estrangement. There are no happy endings, here, or particularly likeable characters for those who want or need that sort of thing. For me, only Tillie reached three dimensions. Stella was more a cloud of inference I drew from her circumstances, rather than a discernible-to-me character, and since her POV was half the book, I felt this lack deeply.
The many encomiums on the cover and inside note that the writing is beautiful and that Jamison, who has gone on to achieve fame with her essays, is a writer to watch. These are all true. And yet. SO MANY SIMILES. I could feel the writer writing in the background, trying, reaching for beautiful language. And there is plenty of it there! But, and I wrote this about the first novel of another Iowa Writers Workshop grad, when they're this thick on the ground, the really great ones don't stand out. On page 130, anesthesia is compared to a serious conversation after several glasses of wine, then something compared to tree roots, then pain like sutures with seams and a drawstring. The figurative language, to me, after a while, felt exhausting.
In the end, though, the relationship between Tillie and Stella, and the complicated emotions, drew me through to the very end. Here's Tillie, on p 187: "But the times me and Stella fought were good ones, in their way. Like she took me seriously. This was what happened when lives got close and tangled."
If you like complicated, messy characters and complex relationships between women, this has a lot to offer.
Also, the cover, of a headless young woman sitting on the floor in an undergarment, is terrible.
The many encomiums on the cover and inside note that the writing is beautiful and that Jamison, who has gone on to achieve fame with her essays, is a writer to watch. These are all true. And yet. SO MANY SIMILES. I could feel the writer writing in the background, trying, reaching for beautiful language. And there is plenty of it there! But, and I wrote this about the first novel of another Iowa Writers Workshop grad, when they're this thick on the ground, the really great ones don't stand out. On page 130, anesthesia is compared to a serious conversation after several glasses of wine, then something compared to tree roots, then pain like sutures with seams and a drawstring. The figurative language, to me, after a while, felt exhausting.
In the end, though, the relationship between Tillie and Stella, and the complicated emotions, drew me through to the very end. Here's Tillie, on p 187: "But the times me and Stella fought were good ones, in their way. Like she took me seriously. This was what happened when lives got close and tangled."
If you like complicated, messy characters and complex relationships between women, this has a lot to offer.
Also, the cover, of a headless young woman sitting on the floor in an undergarment, is terrible.
October 22, 2023
Stunning writing, as is to be expected from Jamison. But I think I prefer her nonfiction; this one just didn’t land.
February 28, 2019
Sometimes you pick up a book and it ends up being one of those truly amazing pieces of writing, the kind you wish you could have created when you were in your early twenties with college-angst. The kind professors yearn for and literary critics swoon over. Leslie Jamison makes me green with writers-envy. Her ability to take a string of simple words and turn them into a profound sentence blew me away on (what felt like) every page.
On the material surface, The Gin Closet is a novel about two women, one trying to find herself, one trying to survive. When Stella learns she has an estranged aunt she packs up her meaningless New York City existence and moves to the desert to help this broken woman cope with alcoholism and loneliness. Tilly is a mess, she seems to only hurt the people around her and has been that way she since she was young. She hasn’t had an easy life so when Stella turns up Tilly surfaces from her gin-induced waking-coma to think of the life she could possibly have, a life that means something, a life near her son in San Francisco. Together, Stella and Tilly embark on a trip, not a journey to somewhere even though they have a destination; more a sort of movement, fumbling many times along the way.
Told from both women’s first-person points of view, Stella is damaged, and Tilly is lost. The dueling narratives juxtapose these women, and give the reader a unique sense of being each of them, as well as watching each of them. This is a novel about family paradigms, but more specifically, female family paradigms: what it means to be a mother, a daughter, or a sister; what we do to our family and what is done to us. Jamison draws a true, poignant portrait of the dichotomy between female relations.
The Gin Closet is about the things we live with and survive through. How we perceive the one body we are given and what we choose to do with, and to, our life. What definitions do we place upon ourself? Anorexic, Alcoholic, Loner, Dreamer? What do we make of the people around us? Stella expects to be used, expects to be abandoned, but she is hardened and does the same to others. Tilly pushes everyone away until she decides to pull them close, but too close.
A beautiful, heartbreaking portrait of the female soul, a novel with an exquisite use of language, Leslie Jamison’s debut is remarkable in its simplistic truth. She doesn’t pander to the audience, she doesn’t mince words, she’s obvious but understated. Like Marilyn Robinson’s Housekeeping, or Alice Munro’s The Beggar Maid, The Gin Closet is unsettling but utterly remarkable.
On the material surface, The Gin Closet is a novel about two women, one trying to find herself, one trying to survive. When Stella learns she has an estranged aunt she packs up her meaningless New York City existence and moves to the desert to help this broken woman cope with alcoholism and loneliness. Tilly is a mess, she seems to only hurt the people around her and has been that way she since she was young. She hasn’t had an easy life so when Stella turns up Tilly surfaces from her gin-induced waking-coma to think of the life she could possibly have, a life that means something, a life near her son in San Francisco. Together, Stella and Tilly embark on a trip, not a journey to somewhere even though they have a destination; more a sort of movement, fumbling many times along the way.
Told from both women’s first-person points of view, Stella is damaged, and Tilly is lost. The dueling narratives juxtapose these women, and give the reader a unique sense of being each of them, as well as watching each of them. This is a novel about family paradigms, but more specifically, female family paradigms: what it means to be a mother, a daughter, or a sister; what we do to our family and what is done to us. Jamison draws a true, poignant portrait of the dichotomy between female relations.
The Gin Closet is about the things we live with and survive through. How we perceive the one body we are given and what we choose to do with, and to, our life. What definitions do we place upon ourself? Anorexic, Alcoholic, Loner, Dreamer? What do we make of the people around us? Stella expects to be used, expects to be abandoned, but she is hardened and does the same to others. Tilly pushes everyone away until she decides to pull them close, but too close.
A beautiful, heartbreaking portrait of the female soul, a novel with an exquisite use of language, Leslie Jamison’s debut is remarkable in its simplistic truth. She doesn’t pander to the audience, she doesn’t mince words, she’s obvious but understated. Like Marilyn Robinson’s Housekeeping, or Alice Munro’s The Beggar Maid, The Gin Closet is unsettling but utterly remarkable.
September 25, 2024
The Gin Closet is like Pandora’s box: if you open it, it unleashes all your inner demons. Jamison creates a dark, raw and honest family portret about three generations of women and their inability to communicate with each other, to show their affection for one another. The two female protagonists are messing up their own lives in one way or another, going through a lot of suffering and pain, battling drug- and drink-abuse, meaningless sex and (domestic) violence. Jamison’s language and imagery creates a bleak story of loss and redemption. It’s no fairy-tale with a happy ending, but a very realistic treatment of disappointment, of abandonment, of struggle, of despair. Needless to say I loved it.
February 7, 2025
The themes in this book are particularly crushing; the difficulty of intimacy but also desiring nothing BUT intimacy and the utter despair and isolation of pain. I found this quote from the author regarding the novel quite poignant: "I set out to write a novel about two women saving each other's lives, and ended up writing about how they couldn't. How could these women make their pain visible? It's a terrible kind of privacy, despair, and I wanted to look at intimacy as the violation of that privacy--awkward and stuttering and often hurtful."
I'm interested in exploring those themes and happy to have read this devastating book. Personally though, for no particular reason, the novel itself didn't hit me as hard as the abstract of the book does.
I'm interested in exploring those themes and happy to have read this devastating book. Personally though, for no particular reason, the novel itself didn't hit me as hard as the abstract of the book does.
December 19, 2020
La autodestrucción es algo que siempre he sentido lejano y sobretodo incomprensible. La historia de estas dos mujeres y su inclinación a ello me acercó a entender cómo se sienten, desde un lugar auténtico sin llegar a ser deprimente ni autocomplaciente. Tiene imágenes fuertísimas, especialmente el relato de un embarazo alcoholizado, pero más que parecer sórdido, te sitúa en el lugar y sensación de cada momento leído. Amé la narrativa; sin ser un tema bello, sin ser poesía (y sin que me guste la poesía), me pareció bellamente escrito.
July 21, 2016
This debut was a melodramatic piling on of every disfunction the author could conjure. Additionally, the characters were not simply unlikeable but also unbelievable and underdeveloped.
March 31, 2020
A novel that tells the story of two women. Stella who is constantly trying to fix other people’s lives instead of living hers and Tilly who is just lost and broken. Stella’s mother is shown to be strong, maybe harsh and also a workaholic who lives in Los Angeles while Stella has a soft side and wanted to be different than her mom. Stella has an affair with her married professor and also works for some hypocrite writer in NYC. Once she learns about her grandmother’s illness, she leaves everything to take care of her grandmother. The grandmother mentions an aunt Stella never knew existed. Stella gets curious about her estranged aunt. When the grandmother dies and Stella goes on to find her aunt Tilly.
The point of view switches to Tilly. Tilly tells us about leaving home and about fighting with Lucy (the grandma) and Dora (Stella’s mom). Tilly runs away from home. She constantly runs into issues and keeps making the wrong choices. She ends up being a prostitute and suffers from men who think they can do anything they want because they’re paying. Tilly gets pregnant with her son Abe. Abe grows up to be successful in San Francisco.
The point of view switches to Stella moves to the desert to find Tilly in her worst shape. Tilly is drunk and has a closet full of gin, Tilly’s favorite alcohol. Stella leaves everything behind in NYC and decides she’s going to fix Tilly. The two women go on a trip and Stella helps Tilly get sober. They move to Tilly’s son apartment in San Francisco. Stella gets a job at some inn. Abe finds a job at the Bank he works in for Tilly. Tilly tries but she doesn’t fit in. She is nervous. She is ashamed of people knowing who she is. Abe refuses her lunch invitations at work and so on. Also, Stella and Abe ends up sleeping together but they keep this as a secret from Tilly. Over thanksgiving with Tilly’s coworkers, Tilly gets embarrassed because one of her coworkers impersonates her. Tilly starts drinking again and Stella finds out.
Tilly leaves for 5 days and starts drinking. When she comes back she apologizes for disappearing but nonetheless continues to drink. It doesn’t stop. Things don’t end up well. She leaves for good and so does Stella. Stella goes back to Los Angeles to stay with her mom and Tilly ends up at some shelter. At this point I’m so freaking tired of how everything is SO GRIM AND DEPRESSING. It gets worse and Tilly commits suicide? Abe and Stella reunite over this pain.
While I loved the writing and was hooked for many parts of the book. The plot itself was too much. This was extremely sad. I can’t. Nothing turns out well in this book. NOTHING.
The point of view switches to Tilly. Tilly tells us about leaving home and about fighting with Lucy (the grandma) and Dora (Stella’s mom). Tilly runs away from home. She constantly runs into issues and keeps making the wrong choices. She ends up being a prostitute and suffers from men who think they can do anything they want because they’re paying. Tilly gets pregnant with her son Abe. Abe grows up to be successful in San Francisco.
The point of view switches to Stella moves to the desert to find Tilly in her worst shape. Tilly is drunk and has a closet full of gin, Tilly’s favorite alcohol. Stella leaves everything behind in NYC and decides she’s going to fix Tilly. The two women go on a trip and Stella helps Tilly get sober. They move to Tilly’s son apartment in San Francisco. Stella gets a job at some inn. Abe finds a job at the Bank he works in for Tilly. Tilly tries but she doesn’t fit in. She is nervous. She is ashamed of people knowing who she is. Abe refuses her lunch invitations at work and so on. Also, Stella and Abe ends up sleeping together but they keep this as a secret from Tilly. Over thanksgiving with Tilly’s coworkers, Tilly gets embarrassed because one of her coworkers impersonates her. Tilly starts drinking again and Stella finds out.
Tilly leaves for 5 days and starts drinking. When she comes back she apologizes for disappearing but nonetheless continues to drink. It doesn’t stop. Things don’t end up well. She leaves for good and so does Stella. Stella goes back to Los Angeles to stay with her mom and Tilly ends up at some shelter. At this point I’m so freaking tired of how everything is SO GRIM AND DEPRESSING. It gets worse and Tilly commits suicide? Abe and Stella reunite over this pain.
While I loved the writing and was hooked for many parts of the book. The plot itself was too much. This was extremely sad. I can’t. Nothing turns out well in this book. NOTHING.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 3, 2020
Wow, this one cuts deep. Leslie Jamison's prose is like knives, and the the razor thin line she draws between logic and raw emotion is so fine, but she treads it well.
I didn't love everything about this novel. At times, it meandered, especially in Stella's point of view. But my god, does Jamison understand how to write angry, messed up women as complete, whole people, with all their grief and beauty. She faces a lot of truly terrible subject matter with the honesty it deserves, and at times it took my breath away. Every character felt so very real, and I really think that's because Jamison allows them to be as flawed as they are without pretense.
I would recommend this to anyone from both a craft perspective and an empathy one. Any writer can learn from Jamison's exacting wordplay, as well as from her honesty.
I didn't love everything about this novel. At times, it meandered, especially in Stella's point of view. But my god, does Jamison understand how to write angry, messed up women as complete, whole people, with all their grief and beauty. She faces a lot of truly terrible subject matter with the honesty it deserves, and at times it took my breath away. Every character felt so very real, and I really think that's because Jamison allows them to be as flawed as they are without pretense.
I would recommend this to anyone from both a craft perspective and an empathy one. Any writer can learn from Jamison's exacting wordplay, as well as from her honesty.
May 26, 2019
Leslie Jamison has a sharp and intense writing style that is enormously entertaining to read. This was her first book published back in 2010 when she was 26. While I thoroughly enjoyed this story, it becomes obvious that much of the grittiness in this book is drawn from personal reflection and experience, which is depressing, for this story is anything but uplifting.
While I highly recommend, I still believe that her latest book “The Recovering” remains her best work yet....
While I highly recommend, I still believe that her latest book “The Recovering” remains her best work yet....
September 5, 2025
This is the worst book I’ve read in a long time. The writing and tone are incredibly pretentious in a way that makes me want to gauge my eyes. Jamison tries to be so edgy that she loops back around to being gauche.
January 4, 2016
I finished this novel two days ago and it has been in my mind ever since. A friend inquired as to whether the book was good - it is; very, very good - but I feel as though there are not sufficient words to express, in a review, my thoughts about the story or the writer. I need to invent new words to do this novel justice. The book is urgent and raw, and without requesting the readers sympathy, it demands of the reader to be a sentient human being. That Jamison, in this, her first novel, can create and sustain these senses - of urgency, of compassion, of exposed nerves - is to be commended. Her writing elevates the story from being 'another story about a disjointed and struggling family' to being something wholly new. Jamison has given readers a work that is heart-achingly beautiful.
April 15, 2024
The gut-punch ache for intimacy, traumas that fester in the body, pain and love in equal measure, addiction and the harm it causes relationships… this is not an easy book to read. How amusing that I forgot I’d read it before. This second encounter years later is richer and more wounding. Such is life. If you’d like to understand addiction a little better, if you’ve been hurt by members of your family, if you love a well-crafted deep exploration of the brutality in human experience… this book is for you. For those brave enough to follow the narrative to the end, the seeds of wisdom are worth the journey, I think.
August 23, 2010
This is a very grim first novel, and in general, a well-done one. It was obvious from the first sentence that this book was likely to take me on a bleak ride, and at first, I wasn't sure I wanted to get on. I credit Jamison's writing with drawing me in quickly, and then I stayed with it, however unpleasant it got. I enjoyed the revolving POV structure of the book, and I thought the characters were interesting and engaging. At times, Jamison's language can become distracting (her use of similes can feel a bit overblown on occasion), but overall, a good read.
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