The premise of Savage Tongues sounded very interesting to me, the story seemed unique and intriguing. It's definitely a unique story but I found the execution lacking. It's often repetitive, the first few chapters in particular are a slog to get through. It's overwritten for sure, but the issue I had was more with the narrative repeatedly revisiting certain moments or feelings and rehashing them without any clear reason as to why, with no change in outcome. I suspect that part of the reason was to mimic young Arezu's initial infatuation with the older, handsome Omar. Even if that is the case, it just didn't work, at all. It made the book difficult to want to read, and I nearly DNF-ed it about seven times in the first five chapters.
I think the book's description lead me to expect it to be in two parts - the summer Arezu spends in Marbella which profoundly impacted her in a terrible, scarring way, and the 'twenty years later' when she goes back after inheriting the apartment - but this isn't the case. The entire story is narrated by Arezu and told from her perspective (except when she's assigning perspective to another character) both in the present as well as in the past. It's a bit difficult to describe, but the story of teenage Arezu's summer in Marbella isn't narrated or told in full, rather it's revealed piecemeal through her remembering certain moments, scenes, details. Sometimes in flashback, sometimes in nightmare, sometimes just in thought and reflection. This is really where a lot of the issues with the repetitive storytelling are, but it's not as bad in the latter half of the book.
An excerpt from page 165:
"Perhaps, I reflected out loud, it was because of this experience that in all my years of writing I hadn't once been able to produce an outline or a novel that was distinctly plot driven. The word itself —plot— seemed problematic to me, artificial. On the one hand, it rang of secrecy, conspiracy, a desire to dupe the reader with its tropes of realism, putting forth a manageable version of reality, a legible reality composed of epiphanies, confusions, conflicts with clear boundaries, events that administer exacting lessons to the characters, forcing them to either grow or become more calloused versions of who they already were. On the other hand, that word —plot— also signified a piece of land, a territory with distinct boundaries, with a frontier designed to contain the story rather than mark the site of a potential transgression. The literature I craved was untethered, mysterious, atmospheric. It was boundary crossing. I couldn't, having lived an itinerant life, produce anything else and still be honest, honest before the page in the privacy of my own home and honest with readers, whoever they turned out to be."
Normally I'd balk at this sort of thing, but truthfully I had been struggling with the narrative of the book, especially the unexpected moments of either supernatural elements or hallucinations, I'm still not entirely sure which. Additionally, while the emotional journey Arezu takes does make sense to me and ultimately resolves in an acceptable enough way - the practical matters of the plot just... don't get resolved. There are things that don't make an awful lot of sense to begin with, like why her father —who is still alive and well enough to arrange for the utilities to be reconnected for her trip— has chosen to gift her the apartment, at the time he does, and why it sat empty and abandoned for twenty years. And it's not just the questionable asset management, there are multiple interactions with townsfolk like shopkeepers and waiters that left me squinting at the page, uncertain how to process the fantastical nature or unlikely dialogue. So it's actually extraordinarily helpful to have Arezu essentially announce that she's not an entirely reliable narrator and that her reality isn't necessarily our own. Of course as a reader I would've liked to have had that information before I began reading, in the description rather than laid out on a page more than halfway through the book.
It wasn't all bad though, the way Arezu examines her relationships individually, in relation to each other, and through a broader lens of culture, history, and shared trauma, is captivating. The relationship between her and Omar is examined excessively, yes, but it's never romanticized. There's nothing in the description to suggest it would be, but... you know.
It must also be said how wonderful it is to read a story of a grown woman, reflecting on her self and her past in a way that's both conflicting and accepting. Arezu's inner self is messy, as we all are, as she should be. It's refreshing to read someone so realistically flawed, so human. Arezu isn't really likeable, which I consider a positive. Complex characters are infinitely more interesting to me, personally. I did also love Arezu's relationship with Ellie, though I did wish Ellie's voice was a bit stronger. I still want to know if she got her grading done, but it was never mentioned.
Overall I can't say I really enjoyed this book, there's just too many issues in the storytelling and I felt misled by the description. But I think that with the right editor, this author will be able to produce fantastic work, which I'll keep an eye out for.
Thanks to Bookish First and HMH for providing me with an arc to review.
I think the book's description lead me to expect it to be in two parts - the summer Arezu spends in Marbella which profoundly impacted her in a terrible, scarring way, and the 'twenty years later' when she goes back after inheriting the apartment - but this isn't the case. The entire story is narrated by Arezu and told from her perspective (except when she's assigning perspective to another character) both in the present as well as in the past. It's a bit difficult to describe, but the story of teenage Arezu's summer in Marbella isn't narrated or told in full, rather it's revealed piecemeal through her remembering certain moments, scenes, details. Sometimes in flashback, sometimes in nightmare, sometimes just in thought and reflection. This is really where a lot of the issues with the repetitive storytelling are, but it's not as bad in the latter half of the book.
An excerpt from page 165:
"Perhaps, I reflected out loud, it was because of this experience that in all my years of writing I hadn't once been able to produce an outline or a novel that was distinctly plot driven. The word itself —plot— seemed problematic to me, artificial. On the one hand, it rang of secrecy, conspiracy, a desire to dupe the reader with its tropes of realism, putting forth a manageable version of reality, a legible reality composed of epiphanies, confusions, conflicts with clear boundaries, events that administer exacting lessons to the characters, forcing them to either grow or become more calloused versions of who they already were. On the other hand, that word —plot— also signified a piece of land, a territory with distinct boundaries, with a frontier designed to contain the story rather than mark the site of a potential transgression. The literature I craved was untethered, mysterious, atmospheric. It was boundary crossing. I couldn't, having lived an itinerant life, produce anything else and still be honest, honest before the page in the privacy of my own home and honest with readers, whoever they turned out to be."
Normally I'd balk at this sort of thing, but truthfully I had been struggling with the narrative of the book, especially the unexpected moments of either supernatural elements or hallucinations, I'm still not entirely sure which. Additionally, while the emotional journey Arezu takes does make sense to me and ultimately resolves in an acceptable enough way - the practical matters of the plot just... don't get resolved. There are things that don't make an awful lot of sense to begin with, like why her father —who is still alive and well enough to arrange for the utilities to be reconnected for her trip— has chosen to gift her the apartment, at the time he does, and why it sat empty and abandoned for twenty years. And it's not just the questionable asset management, there are multiple interactions with townsfolk like shopkeepers and waiters that left me squinting at the page, uncertain how to process the fantastical nature or unlikely dialogue. So it's actually extraordinarily helpful to have Arezu essentially announce that she's not an entirely reliable narrator and that her reality isn't necessarily our own. Of course as a reader I would've liked to have had that information before I began reading, in the description rather than laid out on a page more than halfway through the book.
It wasn't all bad though, the way Arezu examines her relationships individually, in relation to each other, and through a broader lens of culture, history, and shared trauma, is captivating. The relationship between her and Omar is examined excessively, yes, but it's never romanticized. There's nothing in the description to suggest it would be, but... you know.
It must also be said how wonderful it is to read a story of a grown woman, reflecting on her self and her past in a way that's both conflicting and accepting. Arezu's inner self is messy, as we all are, as she should be. It's refreshing to read someone so realistically flawed, so human. Arezu isn't really likeable, which I consider a positive. Complex characters are infinitely more interesting to me, personally. I did also love Arezu's relationship with Ellie, though I did wish Ellie's voice was a bit stronger. I still want to know if she got her grading done, but it was never mentioned.
Overall I can't say I really enjoyed this book, there's just too many issues in the storytelling and I felt misled by the description. But I think that with the right editor, this author will be able to produce fantastic work, which I'll keep an eye out for.
Thanks to Bookish First and HMH for providing me with an arc to review.