Bitter and In The Dark
Mar. 18th, 2019 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alobearI met Francesca Jakobi at a recent writing retreat and decided to read her first novel, Bitter. It's a masterfully constructed tale of a mother's obsession with her son and their strained relationship. The story of the novel's present (1960s) follows Gilda's attempts to reconnect with her son after his marriage, while flashbacks gradually build up the tale of Gilda's upbringing, marriage and early motherhood, until we finally understand how she has got where she is.
The book is written in the first person, so the reader spends the entire story inside Gilda's head, which is a bold choice with a protagonist who isn't necessarily sympathetic. But it works brilliantly here, as it allows us to understand (if not condone) Gilda's actions, as well as the way she deludes both herself and those around her. The intricate nature of the patchwork plot really drew me in and kept me absolutely hooked till the end. I wanted both to see what Gilda would do next and to gain insight into her motivations and psychology. She is a fascinating and many-layered character, proving that someone doesn't need to be likeable for a reader to invest in them.
This isn't the kind of book I normally read, but I loved it and would highly recommend it.
On Saturday, I went to something else I wouldn't normally attend - a choral concert in the dark. We Are Sound is a Cambridge-based choir I was introduced to by one of its former members and I've been to their concerts before. This one was held in the gorgeous Musician's Church near Cannon Street and was designed to be experienced in total darkness. We were each given a sleep mask on entering and the church was unlit. I decided to embrace the format, so listened to the first half with the sleep mask on. The singing was beautiful and very ethereal, as well as impressively in sync, considering the performers were also in low light. But I found it difficult to connect to the music in an emotional way. I felt remote from it and a little uncomfortable. So, for the second half, I took my sleep mask off and watched the choir move about in the semi-darkness. I know it wasn't what they intended for their audience, but being more aware of the amazing space around me, as well as the other audience members and the choir themselves, allowed me to better connect to the sound, and I therefore found the second half much more impactful. The whole thing was beautiful and very skilful, but I was glad I gave in to my instincts and 'broke the rules' half way through.
The book is written in the first person, so the reader spends the entire story inside Gilda's head, which is a bold choice with a protagonist who isn't necessarily sympathetic. But it works brilliantly here, as it allows us to understand (if not condone) Gilda's actions, as well as the way she deludes both herself and those around her. The intricate nature of the patchwork plot really drew me in and kept me absolutely hooked till the end. I wanted both to see what Gilda would do next and to gain insight into her motivations and psychology. She is a fascinating and many-layered character, proving that someone doesn't need to be likeable for a reader to invest in them.
This isn't the kind of book I normally read, but I loved it and would highly recommend it.
On Saturday, I went to something else I wouldn't normally attend - a choral concert in the dark. We Are Sound is a Cambridge-based choir I was introduced to by one of its former members and I've been to their concerts before. This one was held in the gorgeous Musician's Church near Cannon Street and was designed to be experienced in total darkness. We were each given a sleep mask on entering and the church was unlit. I decided to embrace the format, so listened to the first half with the sleep mask on. The singing was beautiful and very ethereal, as well as impressively in sync, considering the performers were also in low light. But I found it difficult to connect to the music in an emotional way. I felt remote from it and a little uncomfortable. So, for the second half, I took my sleep mask off and watched the choir move about in the semi-darkness. I know it wasn't what they intended for their audience, but being more aware of the amazing space around me, as well as the other audience members and the choir themselves, allowed me to better connect to the sound, and I therefore found the second half much more impactful. The whole thing was beautiful and very skilful, but I was glad I gave in to my instincts and 'broke the rules' half way through.
