Genevieve’s Reviews > All Fours > Status Update
Genevieve
is on page 385 of 389
“I had everything I needed in my pockets, a full soul.”
— 6 hours, 36 min ago
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Genevieve
is on page 385 of 389
isn’t that the whole point? Not in a “art is meant to disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed” way, but in the way that creates change in your mind and the world. This was a really, really interesting book. Also I realized yesterday that the cover (the cliff) is like the estrogen graph for perimenopause—it drops, but instead of a “death field” at the bottom, there’s just golden light. AWEH
— 6 hours, 26 min ago
Genevieve
is on page 387 of 389
around as light hits them. Nothing is enough o be truly ashamed of, unless you’re hiding it—and that’s what this story’s about. Learning to live with the rock uncovered, and once the rock is uncovered, suddenly everywhere is a beautiful motel room. Ugh. This took me a long time to get through because it is (in terms of feeling, not writing) DENSE. some stuff pushed the envelope and made me uncomfortable, but
— 6 hours, 29 min ago
Genevieve
is on page 387 of 389
WOWWWW. wowowowow. This book has a BOLDNESS that’s so impressive, especially considering how effectively it was carried out. It’s so REAL. At times funny, most times unserious (because really, despite her mental struggle, generally, things aren’t as serious as they seem, and she’s an upper class white woman, so). So why should it be serious? This book feels like lifting a rock and watching all the bugs scurry
— 6 hours, 31 min ago
Genevieve
is on page 386 of 389
“Outside, it was early evening. There was plenty of time. I decided to walk.
The sun was just beginning to set.
Golden light everything.”
AAAAHWWHHH
— 6 hours, 34 min ago
The sun was just beginning to set.
Golden light everything.”
AAAAHWWHHH
Genevieve
is on page 385 of 389
“Indeed, the whole world was the motel room.”
cry cry cry that’s the dream, isn’t it?
— 6 hours, 37 min ago
cry cry cry that’s the dream, isn’t it?
Genevieve
is on page 315 of 389
isn’t that just humanity? She’s not a stereotypical unreliable narrator because the pretense isn’t that we believe everything she’s saying and find out she’s lying—the whole point is that her emotions are the truth. Whatever she’s feeling is the truth, because really—do we ever really know? How can one be unreliable if there is nothing in the world unperceived if we’re the looking glass?
— Nov 01, 2026 04:49PM

