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The Therapist
In this bittersweet and hauntingly surreal tale, a couple finds the distance between them mirrored in a strange epidemic sweeping the globe. Little by little, each victim becomes transparent, their heart beating behind a visible rib cage, an intricate network of nerves left hanging in mid-air. Finally, the victims disappear entirely, never to be seen again.
‘I dreamt that we were at sea,’ she says.
‘I dreamt that we were at sea,’ she says.
177 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 26, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 42 reviews
December 13, 2019
Despite its virulence, little is known about the disease. They say that it attacks the brain and spinal column. That victims suffer encephalitis-like reactions. Lethargy, confusion and changes in personality are all common. The media report cases of grandiose delusions and memory loss. Some hear voices, other see impossible realities. All eventually disappear.
A previously unknown, fatal disease grips Oregon and then, eventually, spreads across the States. As panic mounts, the narrator and his wife Simone try to come to terms with their feelings of grief and guilt following the death of their young son in an accident. But will it be possible for them to save themselves and their marriage, while the world seems to be falling apart?
Nial Giacomelli’s engrossing and psychologically complex novella, published as part of the latest batch of Fairlight Moderns, borrows strongly from genre fiction. This is evident in its post-apocalyptic, dystopian premise, spiced with an element of body horror and an unreliable narrator worthy of the best Gothic fiction. One could also read the novella as a ghost story – possibly not in the traditional sense of the word, but certainly insofar as it explores the idea of how the dead remain with us, “haunting” our existence. Indeed, it soon becomes evident that the deadly epidemic, culminating in the dramatic ‘disappearance’ of its victims, is a novella-length allegory or extended “pathetic fallacy”: the large-scale manifestation or metaphor for the private grief of the protagonists.
As the novel progresses, the narrator’s dreams take centre-stage, and the mysterious figure of the (unnamed) therapist assumes an increasingly important role. Her questions tease out layer upon layer of meaning, leading to unexpected plot twists and turns and an ending which sent me back to the first pages of the book.
A previously unknown, fatal disease grips Oregon and then, eventually, spreads across the States. As panic mounts, the narrator and his wife Simone try to come to terms with their feelings of grief and guilt following the death of their young son in an accident. But will it be possible for them to save themselves and their marriage, while the world seems to be falling apart?
Nial Giacomelli’s engrossing and psychologically complex novella, published as part of the latest batch of Fairlight Moderns, borrows strongly from genre fiction. This is evident in its post-apocalyptic, dystopian premise, spiced with an element of body horror and an unreliable narrator worthy of the best Gothic fiction. One could also read the novella as a ghost story – possibly not in the traditional sense of the word, but certainly insofar as it explores the idea of how the dead remain with us, “haunting” our existence. Indeed, it soon becomes evident that the deadly epidemic, culminating in the dramatic ‘disappearance’ of its victims, is a novella-length allegory or extended “pathetic fallacy”: the large-scale manifestation or metaphor for the private grief of the protagonists.
As the novel progresses, the narrator’s dreams take centre-stage, and the mysterious figure of the (unnamed) therapist assumes an increasingly important role. Her questions tease out layer upon layer of meaning, leading to unexpected plot twists and turns and an ending which sent me back to the first pages of the book.
December 14, 2023
This twisted story didn't do anything new, it didn't try to, it just pulled then released, and it was terribly brilliant. I felt sucker punched after I finished this novella.
We follow a couple as they grief the loss of their child while a pandemic breaks out causing the people infected to become translucent, gradually, layer by layer, till they vanish from existence all together.
This was definitely "my cup of tea" the metaphors and similies were just mesmerizing. The flow had a smooth yet a heavy cadence, a kind of foreboding malgnent tone, especially towards the end, which was horrifying to get through.
We follow a couple as they grief the loss of their child while a pandemic breaks out causing the people infected to become translucent, gradually, layer by layer, till they vanish from existence all together.
This was definitely "my cup of tea" the metaphors and similies were just mesmerizing. The flow had a smooth yet a heavy cadence, a kind of foreboding malgnent tone, especially towards the end, which was horrifying to get through.
September 25, 2019
Actual rating: 3.5
Thank you to Fairlight Books and NetGalley for this copy.
This is a beautiful and moving story of the natural revolutions of grief and loss, while inhabiting a dystopian world wherein a devastating disease has become epidemic.
The narrator and his wife, Simone, are seeing a therapist to talk through the death of their young son. It’s heartbreaking stuff, for sure. But what this novella does brilliantly is keep the commonplace in the foreground, and in the background add in this strange illness that’s sweeping the globe; one in which people start to fade away.
The beginning felt rushed, and moved at an uncomfortable pace. I wished it had slowed down, just a bit, for me to feel the emotions it was looking to elicit. I think this has to do with the narrative being in the first person present— a tense I’m not particularly fond of, as it too often comes off as a listing of thoughts and actions: “I did this, and she said that.” “We sit down, and I watch them.”
It’s not my favorite.
I wasn’t a fan of the narrator, either. He was the typical male— angry, moody, lecherous. In the face of such a terrible loss, I can see these being understandable, but he remained a bit of an asshole (and he knew it). I pitied him at the end, but still...
The writing is done very well— the imagery is not too flowery, and it’s frequently somber and somewhat frightening. The whole novella sort of feels like wading chest deep in water; you can almost feel the weight of the grief radiating on the page, as well as the all-too-inevitable sickness creeping through the background. In the end: a good read.
Thank you to Fairlight Books and NetGalley for this copy.
This is a beautiful and moving story of the natural revolutions of grief and loss, while inhabiting a dystopian world wherein a devastating disease has become epidemic.
The narrator and his wife, Simone, are seeing a therapist to talk through the death of their young son. It’s heartbreaking stuff, for sure. But what this novella does brilliantly is keep the commonplace in the foreground, and in the background add in this strange illness that’s sweeping the globe; one in which people start to fade away.
The beginning felt rushed, and moved at an uncomfortable pace. I wished it had slowed down, just a bit, for me to feel the emotions it was looking to elicit. I think this has to do with the narrative being in the first person present— a tense I’m not particularly fond of, as it too often comes off as a listing of thoughts and actions: “I did this, and she said that.” “We sit down, and I watch them.”
It’s not my favorite.
I wasn’t a fan of the narrator, either. He was the typical male— angry, moody, lecherous. In the face of such a terrible loss, I can see these being understandable, but he remained a bit of an asshole (and he knew it). I pitied him at the end, but still...
The writing is done very well— the imagery is not too flowery, and it’s frequently somber and somewhat frightening. The whole novella sort of feels like wading chest deep in water; you can almost feel the weight of the grief radiating on the page, as well as the all-too-inevitable sickness creeping through the background. In the end: a good read.
August 22, 2019
I always find it interesting when an author can take a plot which has been done a few times and manage to give it a new twist. Nial Giacomelli’s The Therapist does this.
The premise is one which has become common in dystopian literature: a disease is eradicating the human race. We’ve read about it before. In Station Eleven, Severance and Bird Box. This particular infection causes people to disappear and it is spreading at an alarming rate.
The narrator of this story and his wife are coping with another type of tragedy; they have lost their infant son in an accident and trying to balance out the sense of loss with the human race disappearing. The couple visit a mysterious therapist in order to try get a grip on life.
The Therapist focuses on the complex issues that a couple suffering from a loss go through. The narrator has ultra vivid dreams, Simone sinks into a depression. They both know that their marriage is falling apart but can they save it when society is no better – is this disease a reflection of the couple’s marriage?
This is a novella full of unexpected twists and surprises. It is also intense and, at times. horrific. The chapters are in short so the book takes on this manic quality as well. It’s as if the disease is spreading due to the speed you read the book. As expected the conclusion is executed in a clever way, which makes this book a satisfying read.
The Therapist is published under the Fairlight Modern series, a set of novellas showcasing author debuts. So far the quality has been nothing short of fantastic and have provided a decent reading break between review copies and Booker prize nominees.
The premise is one which has become common in dystopian literature: a disease is eradicating the human race. We’ve read about it before. In Station Eleven, Severance and Bird Box. This particular infection causes people to disappear and it is spreading at an alarming rate.
The narrator of this story and his wife are coping with another type of tragedy; they have lost their infant son in an accident and trying to balance out the sense of loss with the human race disappearing. The couple visit a mysterious therapist in order to try get a grip on life.
The Therapist focuses on the complex issues that a couple suffering from a loss go through. The narrator has ultra vivid dreams, Simone sinks into a depression. They both know that their marriage is falling apart but can they save it when society is no better – is this disease a reflection of the couple’s marriage?
This is a novella full of unexpected twists and surprises. It is also intense and, at times. horrific. The chapters are in short so the book takes on this manic quality as well. It’s as if the disease is spreading due to the speed you read the book. As expected the conclusion is executed in a clever way, which makes this book a satisfying read.
The Therapist is published under the Fairlight Modern series, a set of novellas showcasing author debuts. So far the quality has been nothing short of fantastic and have provided a decent reading break between review copies and Booker prize nominees.
April 2, 2024
3 star
Weird story where dreams and reality crisscross each other. We read the story in the POV of an unnamed narrator who is male, a husband, a father and employed. This unnamed narrator and his wife Simone are grieving the death of their only son in a drowning accident. They meet a therapist (unnamed again) to deal with their grief and to save their marriage.
Parts of the story were very raw, as a mother it was difficult to read about a child's death. Our narrator is struggling to get back on life, but his wife doesn't seem right anymore. Their marriage doesn't seem right anymore. There is a weird epidemic spreading towards them, where people vanish after some initial symptoms. The story, then oscillates between narrators' strange dreams and the therapist, which was confusing to me.
This novel has a sense of foreboding, an anticipation of dread hanging in the air. Once done, I just wanted to shrug out the story from my head. If you can take it all, this short novella is for you!
Happy Reading!!
Weird story where dreams and reality crisscross each other. We read the story in the POV of an unnamed narrator who is male, a husband, a father and employed. This unnamed narrator and his wife Simone are grieving the death of their only son in a drowning accident. They meet a therapist (unnamed again) to deal with their grief and to save their marriage.
Parts of the story were very raw, as a mother it was difficult to read about a child's death. Our narrator is struggling to get back on life, but his wife doesn't seem right anymore. Their marriage doesn't seem right anymore. There is a weird epidemic spreading towards them, where people vanish after some initial symptoms. The story, then oscillates between narrators' strange dreams and the therapist, which was confusing to me.
This novel has a sense of foreboding, an anticipation of dread hanging in the air. Once done, I just wanted to shrug out the story from my head. If you can take it all, this short novella is for you!
Happy Reading!!
July 30, 2019
The Therapist is the second of the upcoming Fairlight Moderns novella series which I managed to get my mitts on, and the first to blow my tiny mind.
A strange illness blooms on the West coast of America, one which causes rapid physical deterioration in its victims. Their skin reddens and their eyes bulge outwards, as if the very flesh is being siphoned from them. Then, at last, they begin to disappear altogether, their frantically beating hearts the last to fade into nonentity. The disease is unexplained, unprecedented, and unstoppable. Watching the chaos via news bulletins is our unnamed narrator and his wife, Simone, who are too enveloped by grief for their drowned son to truly acknowledge the implications which these vanishings have on wider society. Their deeply personal tragedy is so great that it takes precedence over the apparent end of the word, which is relegated to a vaguely threatening hum in the background.
An undertone of fear and unease trembles beneath the narrator’s prose, making for a reading experience rife with suspicion. The titular therapist carries the hallmarks of a Gothic villain – in her first appearance she stands ominously at a lit window in a scene reminiscent of Hitchcock’s Psycho. As the novella progresses, she increasingly adopts the ghostly persona of the reaper, offering explanations for the vanishings as ascension rather than death, appearing before our narrator in surreal dreams and at the bedside of a dying vanisher who was shot before she could ascend. Our narrator is also quickly established as being unreliable and to be repressing a great deal of vital information, and Simone’s crippling grief leaves her to drift through the house like a shade devoid of any cognizance, leaving no one for the reader to depend on. The final addition to this undertone of threat is the constant presence of the epidemic which sweeps increasingly closer to our main characters who seem entirely too keen to ignore its approach. Both the narrator and Simone appear to exhibit symptoms, and much time is spent expectantly anticipating the announcement that one, or both, of them are succumbing to it.
Even with the mistrustful eye with which I regarded this narrative, the twist that comes at the very end stunned me. It was perfectly executed, triggering a hand-over-mouth, wide-eyed silence. All of those niggling questions and scenarios which had once floated errantly now slot into place. It’s the kind of gotcha! which makes you want to read the whole book again in order to grasp at whatever hints must have eluded you in your ignorance.
This is a beautiful little work with an irresistible magnetism that meant I swallowed it up in a single sitting. It is an aching look at familial grief and how it can induce not only sadness, but anger, frustration, and isolation in those affected by it. Giacomelli’s portrayal of the little understood paternal postnatal depression is masterful, with the narrator concealing it until the very end – only revealing it alongside his most deeply repressed trauma. I must admit that it prompted me to conduct further research into a subject I hadn’t even considered, and any work that incites that kind of response in its readers is deserving of respect, especially when it presents its concepts so excellently. If you only have enough leeway to pick up one of the Fairlight Moderns this month, make it this one.
★★★★★ | 5/5
A strange illness blooms on the West coast of America, one which causes rapid physical deterioration in its victims. Their skin reddens and their eyes bulge outwards, as if the very flesh is being siphoned from them. Then, at last, they begin to disappear altogether, their frantically beating hearts the last to fade into nonentity. The disease is unexplained, unprecedented, and unstoppable. Watching the chaos via news bulletins is our unnamed narrator and his wife, Simone, who are too enveloped by grief for their drowned son to truly acknowledge the implications which these vanishings have on wider society. Their deeply personal tragedy is so great that it takes precedence over the apparent end of the word, which is relegated to a vaguely threatening hum in the background.
An undertone of fear and unease trembles beneath the narrator’s prose, making for a reading experience rife with suspicion. The titular therapist carries the hallmarks of a Gothic villain – in her first appearance she stands ominously at a lit window in a scene reminiscent of Hitchcock’s Psycho. As the novella progresses, she increasingly adopts the ghostly persona of the reaper, offering explanations for the vanishings as ascension rather than death, appearing before our narrator in surreal dreams and at the bedside of a dying vanisher who was shot before she could ascend. Our narrator is also quickly established as being unreliable and to be repressing a great deal of vital information, and Simone’s crippling grief leaves her to drift through the house like a shade devoid of any cognizance, leaving no one for the reader to depend on. The final addition to this undertone of threat is the constant presence of the epidemic which sweeps increasingly closer to our main characters who seem entirely too keen to ignore its approach. Both the narrator and Simone appear to exhibit symptoms, and much time is spent expectantly anticipating the announcement that one, or both, of them are succumbing to it.
Even with the mistrustful eye with which I regarded this narrative, the twist that comes at the very end stunned me. It was perfectly executed, triggering a hand-over-mouth, wide-eyed silence. All of those niggling questions and scenarios which had once floated errantly now slot into place. It’s the kind of gotcha! which makes you want to read the whole book again in order to grasp at whatever hints must have eluded you in your ignorance.
This is a beautiful little work with an irresistible magnetism that meant I swallowed it up in a single sitting. It is an aching look at familial grief and how it can induce not only sadness, but anger, frustration, and isolation in those affected by it. Giacomelli’s portrayal of the little understood paternal postnatal depression is masterful, with the narrator concealing it until the very end – only revealing it alongside his most deeply repressed trauma. I must admit that it prompted me to conduct further research into a subject I hadn’t even considered, and any work that incites that kind of response in its readers is deserving of respect, especially when it presents its concepts so excellently. If you only have enough leeway to pick up one of the Fairlight Moderns this month, make it this one.
★★★★★ | 5/5
July 1, 2019
Nial Giacomelli's The Therapist, part of the Fairlight moderns novella series, is a searing meditation on loss expertly juxtaposed with a world ravaged by a devastating disease.
The story focuses on a couple who have lost their son recently to an accident, and is told from the husband's point of view as he attempts to deal with the conflicting emotions associated with the accident as well as attending therapy sessions with his detached wife. As they navigate their new normal, a new disease crops up on the west coast that causes mysterious symptoms and eventually forces its victims to disappear completely. The narrative flows back and forth between scenes of terror from the spreading disease and the husband ruminating on crucial times in his marriage and with their son.
The end result is a combination of bleak dystopia and an Edgar Allan Poe style unreliable narrator who is consistently trying to find meaning and place in a world quickly losing stability. It's not light reading despite being short in length, but it's one of the more poignant portrayals of loss I've read this year.
**I was given a copy of this book by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks to Fairlight Books..**
The story focuses on a couple who have lost their son recently to an accident, and is told from the husband's point of view as he attempts to deal with the conflicting emotions associated with the accident as well as attending therapy sessions with his detached wife. As they navigate their new normal, a new disease crops up on the west coast that causes mysterious symptoms and eventually forces its victims to disappear completely. The narrative flows back and forth between scenes of terror from the spreading disease and the husband ruminating on crucial times in his marriage and with their son.
The end result is a combination of bleak dystopia and an Edgar Allan Poe style unreliable narrator who is consistently trying to find meaning and place in a world quickly losing stability. It's not light reading despite being short in length, but it's one of the more poignant portrayals of loss I've read this year.
**I was given a copy of this book by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. My thanks to Fairlight Books..**
October 31, 2019
'The Therapist' by Nial Giacomelli is a surreal experience. A man approaches a therapist to repair his failing marriage and get over the grief of losing a child. Parallely an epidemic is spreading through US, the victims disappearing slowly after a prolonged fever and hallucinations.
.
Giacomelli brings in gothic and dystopian storytelling together in this book. On one hand, its about coping up with life after the loss of a child, but also feeling his presence throughout the house and a mysterious and unnamed therapist helping them see the truth. On the other hand is a crisis that is your worst nightmare come true and amidst all this is a man trying to understand if disappearing is the salve to all the pain that now resides in his heart.
.
The prose is haunting and terrifying. Simone, our protagonist and narrator is unreliable uptil the very end. The story might feel predictable but the author has multiple tricks up his sleeve.
Giacomelli's allegorical writing brings to life the feeling of grief. Simone's dreams and his outlook towards life is shaped by this grief. .
For me, The Therapist is nothing short of a masterpiece. I went into this book blind and I am glad I did. It was a novel experience, trusting the author even when everything felt bizzare. The vivid and intense prose makes the experience a thousand fold better.
.
Giacomelli brings in gothic and dystopian storytelling together in this book. On one hand, its about coping up with life after the loss of a child, but also feeling his presence throughout the house and a mysterious and unnamed therapist helping them see the truth. On the other hand is a crisis that is your worst nightmare come true and amidst all this is a man trying to understand if disappearing is the salve to all the pain that now resides in his heart.
.
The prose is haunting and terrifying. Simone, our protagonist and narrator is unreliable uptil the very end. The story might feel predictable but the author has multiple tricks up his sleeve.
Giacomelli's allegorical writing brings to life the feeling of grief. Simone's dreams and his outlook towards life is shaped by this grief. .
For me, The Therapist is nothing short of a masterpiece. I went into this book blind and I am glad I did. It was a novel experience, trusting the author even when everything felt bizzare. The vivid and intense prose makes the experience a thousand fold better.
January 27, 2021
Another novella from the Fairlight Moderns series, The Therapist by Nial Giacomelli is a heartbreaking meditation on loss and guilt.
A devastating disease ravages the USA from West to East, causing mysterious symptoms, delusion and euphoria, and then the disappearance of the body. At the same time the (unreliable?) narrator and his wife struggle to deal with the loss of their young son in a tragic accident.
Told in breathtakingly beautiful prose, this is at once a haunting study of grief, a post-apocalyptic dystopia, and ghost story of sorts.
It's another one where it's best not to know too much before going in, so that the story gradually unravels the deeper you go.
A devastating disease ravages the USA from West to East, causing mysterious symptoms, delusion and euphoria, and then the disappearance of the body. At the same time the (unreliable?) narrator and his wife struggle to deal with the loss of their young son in a tragic accident.
Told in breathtakingly beautiful prose, this is at once a haunting study of grief, a post-apocalyptic dystopia, and ghost story of sorts.
It's another one where it's best not to know too much before going in, so that the story gradually unravels the deeper you go.
July 31, 2019
This review and others can be read on my blog, Black Forest Basilisks. Thank you to Fairlight Moderns for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
The Therapist by Nial Giacomelli was more than a bit of a let-down. I’d been hoping for a thoughtful character-driven plague survival story, but unfortunately mostly ended up with a middle-aged white man whining about how his wife was depressed and about how he thinks the (somewhat mysterious) therapist they’re visiting isn’t worth the money.
The narrator and his wife, Simone, recently lost their son in an accident at the beach. It’s very tragic, and I really do feel for them. Unfortunately, I can’t help but feel that the unnamed narrator exemplifies more than a few stereotypical toxic white-guy traits. While he does at least take a moment to acknowledge his privilege in one paragraph, this hardly absolves him from responsibility to do better.
Shockingly, it also wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy his wife, either. In other portions, he actively recognizes that his wife is unhappy and would like to return to work – but feels like she can’t. In such a situation, the right thing to do as a partner who cares about the emotional and mental wellbeing of your spouse is not to tell her “Oh, well you always have the OPTION, honey!”, which causes feelings of guilt for her between both A) knowing how much you benefit from it and B) the pressure women have to be the “perfect” mothers who stay at home with their children. The right thing is to encourage her to return to work for her own health and recognize that placing the baby into daycare isn’t a bad thing. Of course, he does neither of these things. Instead, he pats himself on the back for giving her the so-called freedom to “choose” as if she truly has a free choice.
He has some odd and rather cringe-worthy scenes wherein he fantasizes about cheating on his wife with a myriad of different women. The metaphor here was meant to symbolize his desire for intimacy, which he feels is lacking with his wife as she battles depression. When he and his wife visit the neighbor family, he first feels jealous as the husband helps the narrator’s wife remove her coat (oh no he touched her shoulders!!!!). He then proceeds to internally daydream about his wife sleeping with the neighbor wife. This whole sequence felt extremely gratuitous. Near the middle, he considers running away to the coast away from his wife, where he’ll fuck “loose women” – with a description of said sex boiling down to him quite frankly raping them. Naturally, this is not portrayed as rape. Towards the end, he fantasizes about a crowd of women who all want to have sex with him swarming him.
Please take a second to note that he doesn’t mention the logistics of raping women who beg him to stop, only wondering where he might find them.
The only science fiction element of this book is… not particularly scifi, to be frank. The backdrop of the story involves a mysterious plague sweeping the nation which causes people to first sicken and then disappear into the ether. It’s meant to mirror the way the narrator feels as though he’s losing his connection to the world as well as the way those we love can simply gradually dissolve away from our lives. It was OK, I guess, but not particularly interesting beyond the symbolism. It didn’t really add to the plot. It did allow for the narrator to have a deep conversation with a dying grandmother, though, which further cemented in my mind the way he desires women to take care of him and mother even even with their last breath, however!
One of his wife’s conditions for staying together after the death of their son was to visit a therapist together, and quite frankly, if any of this guy’s issues with women and his own worldview had been addressed by the therapy, this might have been a pretty good little novella about the issues facing men in our society and how they might redeem themselves to become better people. Unfortunately, the therapist was primarily just a symbolic figure and the narrator spends a good amount of time complaining about her, believing her to be overpaid because she has a nice house and drinks loose leaf tea (I kid you not).
Quite frankly, my biggest takeaways from this book were: wow, boy howdy does this guy need to realize that 1) women don’t exist to help you process your emotions 2) women don’t exist to mother you 3) women have a right to their own lives, which you should encourage, outside of raising your spawn 4) sex is not the only form of intimacy and 5) sorry your kid died but that doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole to your wife who you all but forced to be the primary caregiver by dint of not supporting her as a person.
2 stars because at least the writing style wasn’t terrible.
SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING BELOW
Just to add insult to injury, the end of the book used that tired old cliche “it was all a dream!” ending. Turns out his wife committed suicide and he’s been hallucinating her this whole time? Or such is implied. There’s literally zero payoff for any of the bullshit I sat through for the first 90% of the novella. Ah, well, can’t win ’em all.
“I sit perfectly still and try to visualize the internal mechanics of my own body. To disassemble my molecular structure. To reduce my body to its purest form. To release a lifetime of guilt and regret. Until I am left with only the goodness in me.
But I find the person who remains unrecognizable.”
The Therapist by Nial Giacomelli was more than a bit of a let-down. I’d been hoping for a thoughtful character-driven plague survival story, but unfortunately mostly ended up with a middle-aged white man whining about how his wife was depressed and about how he thinks the (somewhat mysterious) therapist they’re visiting isn’t worth the money.
The narrator and his wife, Simone, recently lost their son in an accident at the beach. It’s very tragic, and I really do feel for them. Unfortunately, I can’t help but feel that the unnamed narrator exemplifies more than a few stereotypical toxic white-guy traits. While he does at least take a moment to acknowledge his privilege in one paragraph, this hardly absolves him from responsibility to do better.
“I remember thinking about how fortunate I had been to have been born a man. To be able to live as the breadwinner not by discussion or election, but by assumption. I knew that I would never have been able to bear staying home in the way that she had. And though I had always insisted that Simone was free to decide whether she returned to work or not, I would have been lying if I’d said that her decision hadn’t benefited me greatly. That by sheer grace of my gender I had avoided that messy discussion, that sad admittance that being a father alone would never have been enough to satisfy me completely.”
Shockingly, it also wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy his wife, either. In other portions, he actively recognizes that his wife is unhappy and would like to return to work – but feels like she can’t. In such a situation, the right thing to do as a partner who cares about the emotional and mental wellbeing of your spouse is not to tell her “Oh, well you always have the OPTION, honey!”, which causes feelings of guilt for her between both A) knowing how much you benefit from it and B) the pressure women have to be the “perfect” mothers who stay at home with their children. The right thing is to encourage her to return to work for her own health and recognize that placing the baby into daycare isn’t a bad thing. Of course, he does neither of these things. Instead, he pats himself on the back for giving her the so-called freedom to “choose” as if she truly has a free choice.
“Do you want to go back to work?” I asked.
She was silent for a long time. We both sat and watched the question turn stale in the air between us. I realised then that the answer was yes. That she missed work terribly, but was too ashamed to admit it. Financially we could survive on my salary, which meant, at least in her mind, that a return to work would equate to failure.”
He has some odd and rather cringe-worthy scenes wherein he fantasizes about cheating on his wife with a myriad of different women. The metaphor here was meant to symbolize his desire for intimacy, which he feels is lacking with his wife as she battles depression. When he and his wife visit the neighbor family, he first feels jealous as the husband helps the narrator’s wife remove her coat (oh no he touched her shoulders!!!!). He then proceeds to internally daydream about his wife sleeping with the neighbor wife. This whole sequence felt extremely gratuitous. Near the middle, he considers running away to the coast away from his wife, where he’ll fuck “loose women” – with a description of said sex boiling down to him quite frankly raping them. Naturally, this is not portrayed as rape. Towards the end, he fantasizes about a crowd of women who all want to have sex with him swarming him.
“I spend my days betting on horses and when either my luck runs out or the sun runs off I go in search of loose women. I fuck them behind bars and on the hoods of cars. I take them from behind, their hair wrapped tightly in my clenched fist. And when they gasp and then beg for me to slow down I thunder on, as if I am trying to rip them apart. I stop only when, at last, I am sated.
But the fantasy falls apart almost as quickly as it materializes. The logistics are laughable. How would I rent a convertible without providing some form of identification? Who were these loose women, and where was this disposable income coming from?”
Please take a second to note that he doesn’t mention the logistics of raping women who beg him to stop, only wondering where he might find them.
The only science fiction element of this book is… not particularly scifi, to be frank. The backdrop of the story involves a mysterious plague sweeping the nation which causes people to first sicken and then disappear into the ether. It’s meant to mirror the way the narrator feels as though he’s losing his connection to the world as well as the way those we love can simply gradually dissolve away from our lives. It was OK, I guess, but not particularly interesting beyond the symbolism. It didn’t really add to the plot. It did allow for the narrator to have a deep conversation with a dying grandmother, though, which further cemented in my mind the way he desires women to take care of him and mother even even with their last breath, however!
One of his wife’s conditions for staying together after the death of their son was to visit a therapist together, and quite frankly, if any of this guy’s issues with women and his own worldview had been addressed by the therapy, this might have been a pretty good little novella about the issues facing men in our society and how they might redeem themselves to become better people. Unfortunately, the therapist was primarily just a symbolic figure and the narrator spends a good amount of time complaining about her, believing her to be overpaid because she has a nice house and drinks loose leaf tea (I kid you not).
Quite frankly, my biggest takeaways from this book were: wow, boy howdy does this guy need to realize that 1) women don’t exist to help you process your emotions 2) women don’t exist to mother you 3) women have a right to their own lives, which you should encourage, outside of raising your spawn 4) sex is not the only form of intimacy and 5) sorry your kid died but that doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole to your wife who you all but forced to be the primary caregiver by dint of not supporting her as a person.
2 stars because at least the writing style wasn’t terrible.
SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING BELOW
Just to add insult to injury, the end of the book used that tired old cliche “it was all a dream!” ending. Turns out his wife committed suicide and he’s been hallucinating her this whole time? Or such is implied. There’s literally zero payoff for any of the bullshit I sat through for the first 90% of the novella. Ah, well, can’t win ’em all.
July 31, 2019
The Therapist is a beautifully written novella that explores the nature of grief. When the story begins, we learn that the two main characters have suffered a horrible loss. Around the same time, people start coming down with a horrifying illness that causes them to literally fade away to nothingness.
Expect the unexpected from the unreliable narrator. He doesn’t want to remember the truth, so he tells himself - and the reader - a lie that’s only slightly more comforting than his reality.
The author cleverly used symbolism to drop hints about the truth. Although I was able to guess the big reveal, I certainly didn’t have all the details correct. It’s always a true pleasure to read a book that manages to hide a few of its surprises. And when a book is also as heartbreaking and beautiful as this one, it almost demands a second reading.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for providing an ARC. This review contains my honest, unbiased opinion.
Expect the unexpected from the unreliable narrator. He doesn’t want to remember the truth, so he tells himself - and the reader - a lie that’s only slightly more comforting than his reality.
The author cleverly used symbolism to drop hints about the truth. Although I was able to guess the big reveal, I certainly didn’t have all the details correct. It’s always a true pleasure to read a book that manages to hide a few of its surprises. And when a book is also as heartbreaking and beautiful as this one, it almost demands a second reading.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for providing an ARC. This review contains my honest, unbiased opinion.
December 20, 2022
2.75 stars? I liked the concept of the story; it's about an examination of grief. The first chapters were very interesting, but it didn't maintain my fascination until the end. There were moments I wouldn't have included in the novel, because they seemed very "male fantasy", but I guess the author didn't want to exclude something he felt to be authentic just because it didn't fit the perfect man criteria. Overall, I didn't like it as much, but I appreciate the story coming together at the end to form a proper picture.
tw/cw: death of a child, epidemic, hallucinations, grief, mentioned suicide, sickness
tw/cw: death of a child, epidemic, hallucinations, grief, mentioned suicide, sickness
May 18, 2025
Entirely unexpected narrative shift, and one that was rather devastating. But done expertly and beautifully too.
An eerie, slightly unnerving tale that felt out of reach for pages upon pages, but it was written so well that I never wanted to walk away from it. Then it comes together, and quite rapidly and (almost too) obviously (only something I can say upon completion, as what was happening was peripherally something, but which resisted focusing when effort was applied). Emotionally punishing throughout, but a genuinely honest possibility too, albeit a rushed, not so satisfying fadeout.
An eerie, slightly unnerving tale that felt out of reach for pages upon pages, but it was written so well that I never wanted to walk away from it. Then it comes together, and quite rapidly and (almost too) obviously (only something I can say upon completion, as what was happening was peripherally something, but which resisted focusing when effort was applied). Emotionally punishing throughout, but a genuinely honest possibility too, albeit a rushed, not so satisfying fadeout.
July 11, 2019
4.5
A beautifully crafted novella which focuses on a couple after the devastating loss of their young son. Told from the husband's point of view, The Therapist charts the couple's life and their struggle to fight for their marriage in the wake of their son's accident, going so far as to seek help. If this wasn't enough, a bizarre pandemic, causing panic and terror, begins to mercilessly sweep across the country leaving nothing in its wake.
This was an excellent read and difficult to confine to one genre. Giacomelli captured the couple's turmoil throughout the grieving process honestly and brilliantly. His descriptions of the unidentified plague rampaging across the land were atmospheric, almost straight out of the best gothic horror novels.
Highly recommended.
With thanks to Netgalley and Fairlight for the arc in exchange for an honest review.
A beautifully crafted novella which focuses on a couple after the devastating loss of their young son. Told from the husband's point of view, The Therapist charts the couple's life and their struggle to fight for their marriage in the wake of their son's accident, going so far as to seek help. If this wasn't enough, a bizarre pandemic, causing panic and terror, begins to mercilessly sweep across the country leaving nothing in its wake.
This was an excellent read and difficult to confine to one genre. Giacomelli captured the couple's turmoil throughout the grieving process honestly and brilliantly. His descriptions of the unidentified plague rampaging across the land were atmospheric, almost straight out of the best gothic horror novels.
Highly recommended.
With thanks to Netgalley and Fairlight for the arc in exchange for an honest review.
October 30, 2019
Another exploration of grief and the process people go through to get beyond it. I have read so many novels with this central theme that I wondered if there was anything new to be written about it. Yet it seems there is. The difference this author brings to it is the main character - not a very likeable man at first, especially when compared with his poor wife, but I found myself sympathising with him by the end and that was no mean feat. For much of the story I found the extended metaphor of the ‘disappearance epidemic’ intruded on the story of the couple’s private dilemma but towards the end the personal comes to the forefront again and the two strands come together in a poignant way.
And perhaps worst of all, how I feel myself losing him now, the grip of my memory loosening each day. I see his face disintegrating in my mind. I forget the colour of his eyes, the sound of his laughter. I struggle to remember the shape of his face, or the smell of his hair. And I wonder when, not if, the day will come when I forget his likeness completely. When his body breaks down and he is reduced to simply a vague notion. I sit in the dark of our bedroom and wonder if maybe it is best to forget.
I sit perfectly still and try to visualise the internal mechanics of my own body. To disassemble my molecular structure. To reduce my body to its purest form. To release a lifetime of guilt and regret. Until I am left with only the goodness in me.
But I find the person who remains unrecognisable. We would be strangers in the street.
I would pass him and he would pass me, and we would share not a single glance.
Heartbreaking. Superbly well written and a welcome addition to my collection of Fairlight Moderns novellas - a brilliant series, I can’t recommend them (and this one in particular) highly enough.
With thanks to the publisher via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
And perhaps worst of all, how I feel myself losing him now, the grip of my memory loosening each day. I see his face disintegrating in my mind. I forget the colour of his eyes, the sound of his laughter. I struggle to remember the shape of his face, or the smell of his hair. And I wonder when, not if, the day will come when I forget his likeness completely. When his body breaks down and he is reduced to simply a vague notion. I sit in the dark of our bedroom and wonder if maybe it is best to forget.
I sit perfectly still and try to visualise the internal mechanics of my own body. To disassemble my molecular structure. To reduce my body to its purest form. To release a lifetime of guilt and regret. Until I am left with only the goodness in me.
But I find the person who remains unrecognisable. We would be strangers in the street.
I would pass him and he would pass me, and we would share not a single glance.
Heartbreaking. Superbly well written and a welcome addition to my collection of Fairlight Moderns novellas - a brilliant series, I can’t recommend them (and this one in particular) highly enough.
With thanks to the publisher via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
July 31, 2021
Wow. Blown away by this instantly.
You wouldn’t think a software developer could write such a tender and literary novella, but Nial Giacomelli has. (I always find the author profile interesting!)
I do sincerely hope that the author has not, however, had first hand experience of the books topic. It’s very sad and made me cry.
As it’s so short I won’t give spoilers, but the book is about grief and also about a pandemic. I think Giacomelli linked these so well, and writes about grief so well.
The book is probably magical realism (Anglo-American version), and I know that’s not for everyone, but I love it.
I also love Fairlight Moderns, it’s a fantastic imprint and I’ve loved everything from them so far.
Big recommend for ‘The Therapist’ in particular!
You wouldn’t think a software developer could write such a tender and literary novella, but Nial Giacomelli has. (I always find the author profile interesting!)
I do sincerely hope that the author has not, however, had first hand experience of the books topic. It’s very sad and made me cry.
As it’s so short I won’t give spoilers, but the book is about grief and also about a pandemic. I think Giacomelli linked these so well, and writes about grief so well.
The book is probably magical realism (Anglo-American version), and I know that’s not for everyone, but I love it.
I also love Fairlight Moderns, it’s a fantastic imprint and I’ve loved everything from them so far.
Big recommend for ‘The Therapist’ in particular!
January 25, 2020
Another original addition to the Fairlight Moderns collection and an unusual and compelling tale of a couple unable to come to terms with the death of their son set against a backdrop of a country suffering a fatal and previously unknown bizarre epidemic. I’m not usually a great fan of the surreal, but this is such an absorbing story of grief, loss, and guilt that the dystopian elements seem to be absorbed effortlessly into the central narrative. A psychological study, with a bit of science fiction and horror thrown into the mix, which constantly surprises the reader, well-crafted and well-paced, this is a really good read. Its short length is an added strength – any longer and it would have become just too much, but as it is it’s a satisfying, skilful and intriguing novella.
August 10, 2019
Excellent writing, compelling story.
June 26, 2020
A heartbreaking account of grief and denial, beautifully written.
August 23, 2023
“In my dreams my mind walks like a trapeze artist between the topology of my history and my desires for the future. A delicate balance between what is and was, and what now can never be.
Each night I become a younger version of myself.”
Each night I become a younger version of myself.”
August 25, 2019
A surreal novella by debut author Nial Giacomelli, The Therapist is a story of grief and loss, how it is processed, and how it affects us. The novella is a new addition to Fairlight Books Fairlight Moderns series, featuring a beautiful cover and art by Sam Kalda who has won and been nominated for awards such as The Society of Illustrators Gold Medal, the World Illustration Awards, and Young Illustrator Awards. Two guides, one for reading groups and one for writing groups, can be found for The Therapist as a part of the Fairlight Moderns series.
A very unreliable narrator gives a first person narrator of his time after a great tragedy. This, at first, is an unnamed event which is quickly realized as the death of his child. Specific details of the event as well as names are hidden or undisclosed when the story first opens. The past is a murky place filled with grief, hollowness, bitterness, and regret. Yet, it is illuminated in smaller bits and pieces as our unnamed narrator continues to recount the tale.
The majority of the story focuses on the narrator, his wife, and the therapist he is seeing. This is punctuated by a greater, terrifying happenings on the news. In Oregon people are coming down with some kind of strange disease where, following illness, the diseased simply disappear. A pandemic quick develops, playing out as newsreels behind the narrator’s ongoing story. Not much concrete development is given to this secondary plot, leaving it out of the realms of science fiction or fantasy and remaining very firmly in the delightful and often murky waters of surrealist and speculative fiction.
The narrator is of an incredibly unreliable nature. It is through his eyes we see the world, his past, and his current life. It is up to the reader to pick apart the messy threads of the tapestry of words woven, and find the truth lying within. At times the narrator is seemingly open, seeing and acknowledging his flaws and his part in past and current events. At other times he is seemingly blind to what readers might find obviously, stating his words and actions in a matter of fact way, but not quite making a greater connection to himself and the current state of his world.
Beautiful prose makes The Therapist a delight to read. Despite how incredibly unreliable the narrator is, certain lines hold such power in their emotion, truth, and expert crafting of prose.
The Therapist is a well-crafted novella that explores grief, tragedy, depression, and learning to live with the past. Nial Giacomelli is a debut author with great command of prose and understanding of the human condition, and is certainly a force to watch in the future.
This review and other can be found at Looking Glass Reads.
A copy of this book was provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
A very unreliable narrator gives a first person narrator of his time after a great tragedy. This, at first, is an unnamed event which is quickly realized as the death of his child. Specific details of the event as well as names are hidden or undisclosed when the story first opens. The past is a murky place filled with grief, hollowness, bitterness, and regret. Yet, it is illuminated in smaller bits and pieces as our unnamed narrator continues to recount the tale.
The majority of the story focuses on the narrator, his wife, and the therapist he is seeing. This is punctuated by a greater, terrifying happenings on the news. In Oregon people are coming down with some kind of strange disease where, following illness, the diseased simply disappear. A pandemic quick develops, playing out as newsreels behind the narrator’s ongoing story. Not much concrete development is given to this secondary plot, leaving it out of the realms of science fiction or fantasy and remaining very firmly in the delightful and often murky waters of surrealist and speculative fiction.
The narrator is of an incredibly unreliable nature. It is through his eyes we see the world, his past, and his current life. It is up to the reader to pick apart the messy threads of the tapestry of words woven, and find the truth lying within. At times the narrator is seemingly open, seeing and acknowledging his flaws and his part in past and current events. At other times he is seemingly blind to what readers might find obviously, stating his words and actions in a matter of fact way, but not quite making a greater connection to himself and the current state of his world.
Beautiful prose makes The Therapist a delight to read. Despite how incredibly unreliable the narrator is, certain lines hold such power in their emotion, truth, and expert crafting of prose.
The Therapist is a well-crafted novella that explores grief, tragedy, depression, and learning to live with the past. Nial Giacomelli is a debut author with great command of prose and understanding of the human condition, and is certainly a force to watch in the future.
This review and other can be found at Looking Glass Reads.
A copy of this book was provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
December 19, 2019
I have just finished this beautifully written novella. Wonderfully intriguing and a stunning insight into living with unimaginable grief. I had started recommending this to friends before I was half way through, and now I have finished it I will be pushing it twice much!
September 10, 2023
Do yourself a favor and read this little novella.
October 10, 2025
A Quiet Unraveling of the Self
Niall Giacomelli's The Therapist is a novel of psychological precision, exploring the fragile boundaries between professional duty and personal unraveling. The narrative follows a seasoned therapist, Dr. Arthur Leyton, whose own carefully maintained composure begins to fracture under the weight of a new patient's unsettling confessions.
Giacomelli's prose is restrained and atmospheric, building tension not through dramatic events, but through the subtle accumulation of doubt and the quiet disintegration of clinical distance. The consulting room becomes a charged arena where patient and therapist engage in a delicate, unspoken dance, each session chipping away at Dr. Leyton's assured worldview. The questions the novel raises are nuanced: Where does empathy end and identification begin? Can one hold the pain of others without being consumed by it?
The strength of the book lies in its refusal to offer easy answers or descend into melodrama. The protagonist's crisis is internal, rendered with a convincing and empathetic eye for the vulnerabilities of those who profess to heal. The supporting characters, from a colleague offering wary support to the enigmatic patient at the story's center, are sketched with economy and depth.
The Therapist is a slow-burn character study, a thoughtful and penetrating look at the shadows that cling to a life devoted to examining the human psyche. It is a novel that resonates not for its plot twists, but for its sobering and authentic portrayal of a man confronting the very demons he is trained to combat. A compelling and insightful read.
Niall Giacomelli's The Therapist is a novel of psychological precision, exploring the fragile boundaries between professional duty and personal unraveling. The narrative follows a seasoned therapist, Dr. Arthur Leyton, whose own carefully maintained composure begins to fracture under the weight of a new patient's unsettling confessions.
Giacomelli's prose is restrained and atmospheric, building tension not through dramatic events, but through the subtle accumulation of doubt and the quiet disintegration of clinical distance. The consulting room becomes a charged arena where patient and therapist engage in a delicate, unspoken dance, each session chipping away at Dr. Leyton's assured worldview. The questions the novel raises are nuanced: Where does empathy end and identification begin? Can one hold the pain of others without being consumed by it?
The strength of the book lies in its refusal to offer easy answers or descend into melodrama. The protagonist's crisis is internal, rendered with a convincing and empathetic eye for the vulnerabilities of those who profess to heal. The supporting characters, from a colleague offering wary support to the enigmatic patient at the story's center, are sketched with economy and depth.
The Therapist is a slow-burn character study, a thoughtful and penetrating look at the shadows that cling to a life devoted to examining the human psyche. It is a novel that resonates not for its plot twists, but for its sobering and authentic portrayal of a man confronting the very demons he is trained to combat. A compelling and insightful read.
August 20, 2019
The Therapist by Nial Giacomelli is a slim novel with weighty aspirations. It's wholly atmospheric and a little strange.
I didn't enjoy this book much, and most of that's on me. It covers depressing subject matter, the kind of emotional drama that just isn't my jam. It's about grief, a couple dealing with grief, and I think I can just leave it at that so as not to spoil anything for you. I have yet to read a book that takes on grieving as a theme in a way that resonates meaningfully with me.
I didn't like the narrator. He comes across as a selfish asshole husband. Now, this is kind of the point, as it's very much tied up in the blame that is thrown around the guilt everyone denies or wallows in. But the aha moment came too late for me to care — I deeply loathed the asshole for being in his marriage in the way that he was and didn't give a shit about his redemption. I put this one on the author — maybe it's a question of the timing of certain revelations of the narrator's character. Maybe this is a woman's reading of his character, but I disliked him too much, too early. That is, I can appreciate what the author was trying to do with this character, but it didn't work for me.
While grief takes up residence in their bodies, a plague is ravaging America. People are becoming transparent, until they disappear. They become one with the dead before them. Our couple lives in terror of the disease encroaching on their own remote territory. I would've preferred to focus on that epic apocalypse, or on the neighbours (the kind of Joneses you want to keep up with, despite them having their own deep troubles) rather than the intimate one. (But there's a point in here too about grief and how intensely private it is; it refuses sometimes to let the world in, it can't be fixed from the outside.)
"By day we explore the geography of the continent and at night we explore the geography of each other. Two shapes that come together as one."
The metaphor was crafted to death. The words "body" and "bodies" occur more than 100 times in this 125-page story. Body-related imagery combined with geographical references abounds.
"An infographic appears showing landmass consumed by an acreage of growing red dots. It looks like an X-ray, an organ riddled with tumours."
Taken individually, many of these sentences are stunning, but the whole of them felt overwritten and tiresome.
"They walk like a chain gang into a makeshift compound, a shanty town of relief tents that look like white pustules against the landscape."
Shame on me, but life et cetera, and I skimmed through the final pages. Something about the incorporeality of love and what love can then embody. The resolution is not entirely clear to me, nor do I understand the nature of the eponymous therapist.
I didn't enjoy this book much, and most of that's on me. It covers depressing subject matter, the kind of emotional drama that just isn't my jam. It's about grief, a couple dealing with grief, and I think I can just leave it at that so as not to spoil anything for you. I have yet to read a book that takes on grieving as a theme in a way that resonates meaningfully with me.
I didn't like the narrator. He comes across as a selfish asshole husband. Now, this is kind of the point, as it's very much tied up in the blame that is thrown around the guilt everyone denies or wallows in. But the aha moment came too late for me to care — I deeply loathed the asshole for being in his marriage in the way that he was and didn't give a shit about his redemption. I put this one on the author — maybe it's a question of the timing of certain revelations of the narrator's character. Maybe this is a woman's reading of his character, but I disliked him too much, too early. That is, I can appreciate what the author was trying to do with this character, but it didn't work for me.
She suffered stress headaches, much like she had as a teenager, migraines that would blossom like cactus flowers in the depths of her eye sockets. She was struck by a terrible malaise that kept her bedridden. And though I knew only stories of her youth, I was forced to watch helplessly as the wounds of her depression reopened across the geography of her body.
While grief takes up residence in their bodies, a plague is ravaging America. People are becoming transparent, until they disappear. They become one with the dead before them. Our couple lives in terror of the disease encroaching on their own remote territory. I would've preferred to focus on that epic apocalypse, or on the neighbours (the kind of Joneses you want to keep up with, despite them having their own deep troubles) rather than the intimate one. (But there's a point in here too about grief and how intensely private it is; it refuses sometimes to let the world in, it can't be fixed from the outside.)
"By day we explore the geography of the continent and at night we explore the geography of each other. Two shapes that come together as one."
The metaphor was crafted to death. The words "body" and "bodies" occur more than 100 times in this 125-page story. Body-related imagery combined with geographical references abounds.
"An infographic appears showing landmass consumed by an acreage of growing red dots. It looks like an X-ray, an organ riddled with tumours."
Taken individually, many of these sentences are stunning, but the whole of them felt overwritten and tiresome.
"They walk like a chain gang into a makeshift compound, a shanty town of relief tents that look like white pustules against the landscape."
Shame on me, but life et cetera, and I skimmed through the final pages. Something about the incorporeality of love and what love can then embody. The resolution is not entirely clear to me, nor do I understand the nature of the eponymous therapist.
June 6, 2020
Early on in the book I thought I was going to love it. It starts out as a look at grief with some slightly swift pacing but generally thoughtful prose. I pictured 'Grief is the Thing with Feathers' as a comparible novella. However, as this progresses it becomes a a chore to read the thoughts of an ostensibly misogynistic narrator and his horrible world view. It ends up being hard to feel any sympathy for him, or his loss - and possible spoiler - the actual ending itself is really weak, sort of predictable except that you spend the last few dozen pages hoping it might actually be leading somewhere else, it's disappointing when it doesn't.
September 10, 2021
2.5 Stars
This is a hard book to rate. I gave it two stars because "I liked it" but didn't really feel like "I loved it". When I got to the end I flipped to the next page and was shocked to only see the acknowledgements page. I thought there has to be more but it just kind of ends. There was lots of beautiful writing about loss and grief which I enjoyed but I just felt like it was missing something or that I was clearly missing something. I feel like it could have been great but it missed the mark for me.
This is a hard book to rate. I gave it two stars because "I liked it" but didn't really feel like "I loved it". When I got to the end I flipped to the next page and was shocked to only see the acknowledgements page. I thought there has to be more but it just kind of ends. There was lots of beautiful writing about loss and grief which I enjoyed but I just felt like it was missing something or that I was clearly missing something. I feel like it could have been great but it missed the mark for me.
November 28, 2019
Nothing I expected, and the ending was wonderful
May 25, 2020
Absolutely adore this and others from this series. Must read, devoured ain a day
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