Recent Reads #39 | A book I love and a book I hate

A quietly devastating mother–daughter travel story and a fiercely polarizing horror classic bookend a reading streak that swings from lyrical wonder to outright disgust. In “Cold Enough for Snow,” Jessica Au’s novel lingers over a few days in Tokyo as a mother and daughter travel together, building its impact through fragility, low stakes, and a narrative that feels almost whispered. The relationship is the emotional core, but frequent backstory dips blunt the present-tense intimacy the premise promises—leaving the bond with less depth than it could have had, even as the prose remains delicate and thought-dense.

The most talked-about “love” lands in “When I’m Gone Look for Me in the East” by Qwan Berry, a Mongolian road narrative driven by reincarnation lore and the bond between twin brothers. Chulan, still a monk, and his brother Mun—once identified as the reincarnation of a significant llama—set out across Mongolia to find another child who might carry the same spiritual return. The plot is simple: meet children, test claims, travel onward. What makes it unforgettable is the voice and the way the story turns that journey into layered reflection—rich, wise, vibrant, and poetic—so that even a straightforward quest feels expansive.

For craft-minded reasons, the reading list also includes “Jane a Murder” by Maggie Nelson, a true-crime memoir built from shifting vignette forms, found footage, and journal fragments arranged into poetry. Nelson’s approach avoids sensationalism, treating the aunt’s death as a wound that must be understood rather than a spectacle to consume. Yet the book’s verse-and-fragment structure starts to feel repetitive as it progresses, with the form sometimes used less as a scene-specific tool and more as a consistent template.

The sharpest backlash targets “Ring” by Koji Suzuki, translated by Robert B. Ramer and Glenn W. Waly. The cursed-tape premise remains gripping and the lore delivers real mystery and some strong early reveals. But the later conclusions feel like unearned leaps, and the characters—especially Ryuji and Asakawa—are described as flat and morally repellent. The critique becomes especially intense around how sexual assault is depicted: scenes are framed from the perpetrator’s perspective, treated with “quirk”-like casualness, and reinforced with misogyny and victim-blaming. Transphobia is also called out. The verdict is blunt: the movie adaptation is praised for removing the worst elements and making Asakawa a woman, while the book is recommended only for die-hard “Ring” franchise fans who want the origin material.

Other titles land in the middle. “Vagabonds” by El Ghosa Sunday offers a fragmented, surreal Lagos portrait that excites at the language-and-form level but struggles with forward momentum, almost like a string of beginnings rather than a sustained narrative. “The Empress of Salt and Fortune” by Nghi Vo earns praise for its short, mythic, lyrical world-building—though the reviewer wants deeper characterization and more event depth. “13 Shells” by Nadia Bozak disappoints for lack of character evolution and weak standalone story impact. Poetry is mixed: “Time Is a Mother” by Ocean Vuong starts underwhelmingly but improves, while “Self-Help” by Laurie Moore is celebrated as a near-masterclass in second-person short fiction. “Portrait of an Unknown Lady” by María Gainza, translated by Thomas Bunsted, is praised for elegant prose and a Buenos Aires art-forgery premise, but the second half is said to lose momentum by shifting focus away from the protagonist’s perspective toward procedural investigation.