What I read this month: November ‘24

unannounced book notes

Librería Antártica in Mercado Urbano Tobalaba, Santiago, Chile

I know what you’re thinking: Wow, Catalina, how original—a post about books! [Insert eye roll] But hear me out. I’ve been meaning to write posts like this for a long time, always finding some excuse not to, until I stumbled across this quote by the ever-insightful Ursula K. LeGuin:

"And because people who read books mostly want to share them, and feel however obscurely that sharing them is important, they’ll see to it that, however and wherever, the books are there for the next generation(s)."
—Ursula K. LeGuin, The Death of the Book

Reading this reminded me why sharing books matters. It’s not just about recommendations; it’s about connection and keeping ideas alive. And so, here we are—welcome to my first book post!

November’s reads all explored how relationships, creativity, and freedom shape our sense of self.

Let’s dive in.

Evenings and Weekends by Oisín McKenna (2024)

Set during a hot summer weekend in London while a whale is stuck in the Thames, this novel promises a moving, “life-changing” story about interconnected lives. Unfortunately, I think the only character who experienced a truly “life-changing” weekend was the whale (sigh).

This is a character-driven story, but it feels like the author leaned too hard into that idea—there are simply too many characters. They blend together, becoming indistinguishable, and because of this, I couldn’t connect with any of them or get pulled into the story.

The whale stuck in the Thames is intriguing, but it ends up feeling like an anecdote rather than a meaningful symbol. I kept expecting an Aha! moment where its presence tied into the story or delivered some kind of revelation, but that moment never came.

If you enjoyed Sally Rooney's Beautiful World, Where Are You, you might like this book. For me, though, the lack of connection and a clear thread linking the characters made it hard to immerse myself in the story fully.

What could have been better: Fewer characters and a more cohesive narrative would have gone a long way in making this story as profound as it wants to be.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin (2022)

I’ll admit—I wouldn’t have picked up this book if it weren’t for the glowing reviews. I’m not a gamer, and stories about video game creators aren’t something I’d typically gravitate toward. Yet, Gabrielle Zevin’s incredible craft completely pulled me in.

The book follows two kids who meet at the hospital and bond over their love for video games. Later in life, they create a video game together that becomes a cultural phenomenon. But it’s not just about their success; it’s about the complexities of their friendship, their creative process, and the emotional highs and lows that come with building something meaningful together.

Despite my lack of familiarity with gaming, I was fully immersed in the world she created. Zevin made me understand why the characters cared so deeply about their game and how it represented more than just pixels on a screen—it was their art, their ambition, and their connection to each other. That level of emotional depth is a testament to her writing skills.

The characters are incredibly complex and deeply human. I loved them at times, I couldn’t stand them other times, yet I was always rooting for them because their flaws, ambitions, and relationships felt authentic.

While the stakes felt low in some parts of the story, the final chapters are a whirlwind. It gets very interesting and left me thinking about the characters long after I finished the book.

Why you should read it: Even if gaming isn’t your thing, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow will surprise you with its ability to draw you into a world you didn’t know you could care about so much. It’s about creativity, friendship, and the challenges of building something meaningful together.

I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman (1995)

It had been a while since I had read a dystopian novel, and I was excited to read this one. I Who Have Never Known Men follows forty women held captive in a cage, with no memory of how they got there (or why), as seen through the eyes of the youngest among them–a protagonist raised without societal norms, culture, or inherited knowledge. This is fascinating and, throughout the story, invites reflection on womanhood, relationships, and the nature of freedom.

This book gripped me, and I found the protagonist’s perspective compelling. Her worldview offers a fresh lens on topics like love, mortality, and connection.

"I was forced to acknowledge too late, much too late, that I too had loved, that I was capable of suffering and that I was human after all."

But no book is perfect, and this one’s execution is a bit weak. It overuses exclamation marks to show the characters’ excitement, which ends up feeling repetitive and cheap. The narrative also lacks a climatic turning point, leaving the third act underwhelming.

The title is an odd choice, too, as the story barely touches on men or the protagonist’s thoughts about them, making it feel disconnected from the book’s actual themes.

Despite its flaws, I enjoyed this read a lot. It’s an intriguing and thought-provoking exploration of identity and what it means to exist without the constructs of society.

What stayed with me: The stark exploration of what it means to exist without societal constructs is haunting and thought-provoking. It left me questioning how much of who we are is shaped by the world around us. More than just a dystopian story, it’s a meditation on humanity stripped down to its essence.

So there you have it: whales, decisions, and a whole lot of questioning what it means to be human. Classic November.

-Catalina

What are you currently reading?

P.S. Not even three years of therapy could break the grip that Goodreads and The Storygraph have on me. If you’re also a tracking addict, let’s connect!

Librería Antártica in Mercado Urbano Tobalaba, Santiago, Chile