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Shortest Book
62
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Longest Book
552
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Average book length in
2024
356
pages
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Largetha’s
average rating for
2024
2.2
2.2
Highest Rated on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ
4.11
average
Largetha’s first review of the year
did not like it
I celebrated when this book ended. Sydney Windsor, our protagonist, is about as multi-dimensional as a cardboard cutout in a wig. She’s essentially a live-sized blow-up doll with a pulse, there to fulfill the whims of three profoundly problematic men. Her brain? Missing, presumably on vacation. Thoughts? Nonexistent.
One of the love interests tries to convince us otherwise with this gem:
One of the love interests tries to convince us otherwise with this gem:
The eye of the beholder and whatnot I suppose.
To her credit, Sydney does one interesting thing: she steals a rival hockey team’s playbook and emails it to her university’s team. This bold act of espionage ruins her scholarship and earns her the hatred of an entire university. Naturally, her dad—who’s also the hockey coach—gets her transferred to the very school she sabotaged. And lo, we meet Penn and Oliver, the first two points of this love square from hell.
These two thrive on tormenting Sydney. I’m convinced they could’ve replaced her with a random stranger, and the outcome would’ve been the same with these two psychos. Sydney sums up her dynamic with them early on:
And then we meet Carter, the ex-boyfriend, rounding out the love square. Sydney claims she broke up with him because she didn’t want to become her mother, who got pregnant young. Fair. But when Carter reveals he’s into some light blood kink, Sydney's reaction is:
The kidnappings, of course, deserve their own genre within this book. People are kidnapped so frequently, the tension of it dissolves after a while. At one point, Oliver—already deep in his villain era—dons a mask (because apparently, kidnappings require a strict dress code) and ropes in his buddy Bear to abduct Sydney. He still doesn't trust her intentions and uses this time to accuse her of being a snitch. This brilliant plan ends with Bear trying to rape her. Stunning. Truly, Mensa-level planning, as one might expect when your co-conspirators are dudes named Bear.
By the halfway mark, I was rooting for a meteor to hit this universe. Penn, initially the least terrible option, who gun to my head, family's lives on the line, I might’ve picked him early on as the 'endgame' as he liked to say about him and Sydney. But he quickly tarnishes this view of him when he traffics Sydney into their university for the express purpose of tag-teaming her with Oliver. Oh, and he’s into somnophilia. Also Carter does it too at some point. But don’t worry, Sydney forgives everyone eventually because this book is nothing if not a masterclass in Stockholm syndrome. At one point, Oliver and Penn even kidnap her again (masks included, obviously). During this, Sydney mistook Oliver for Bear, the aforementioned assailant. Spoiler: she forgives Oliver too anyway because why hold men accountable when you can sigh and move on?
Carter, the ex, decides the best way to help Sydney recover from her trauma is with—wait for it—sex. Groundbreaking therapy technique. Show stopping. Never the same. Totally Unique. Einstein wishes he thought of this.
Sydney, naturally, isolates herself in her depression, leaving her friends in the dark. When one of them expresses frustration at being ghosted (fair, honestly), Penn swoops in to berate them for not being psychic. Penn’s idea of friendship management is yelling at people and, getting aggressive. Great plan, bro. Oliver, ever the opportunist, follows up by assaulting this same friend, because why not? And somehow, Sydney is shocked when the friendship dissolves.
May this friendship never find me.
The pièce de résistance? A poorly executed revenge scheme where Sydney tries to make Oliver feel the same way that he made her feel. Instead of i don't know pegging this man or something, she has the bright idea of riding him while he's restrained and a little cut up and she's surprised when bro
just thinks it's hot. She somehow managed to make this pseudo-rape pleasurable for him, though i suspect this was just an excuse for the author to morph this into the worse foursome to ever foursome.
The book’s sole redeeming quality? Sydney’s dad. I don't even know what he looks like but I know he a DILF bro. I need him. I need him bad. Honestly, just give him a spin-off and let’s never speak of this universe again. But knowing this author’s track record, even he’d probably end up in a mask by chapter five. So maybe, let's not. ...more
One of the love interests tries to convince us otherwise with this gem:
“You’re so fucking bright. It’s like you suck up the sunshinI celebrated when this book ended. Sydney Windsor, our protagonist, is about as multi-dimensional as a cardboard cutout in a wig. She’s essentially a live-sized blow-up doll with a pulse, there to fulfill the whims of three profoundly problematic men. Her brain? Missing, presumably on vacation. Thoughts? Nonexistent.
One of the love interests tries to convince us otherwise with this gem:
“You’re so fucking bright. It’s like you suck up the sunshine and emit it from your skin.�
The eye of the beholder and whatnot I suppose.
To her credit, Sydney does one interesting thing: she steals a rival hockey team’s playbook and emails it to her university’s team. This bold act of espionage ruins her scholarship and earns her the hatred of an entire university. Naturally, her dad—who’s also the hockey coach—gets her transferred to the very school she sabotaged. And lo, we meet Penn and Oliver, the first two points of this love square from hell.
These two thrive on tormenting Sydney. I’m convinced they could’ve replaced her with a random stranger, and the outcome would’ve been the same with these two psychos. Sydney sums up her dynamic with them early on:
“I have two stalkers. They know what they want and are going after it.�Oh, okay, queen. Slay, I guess.
And then we meet Carter, the ex-boyfriend, rounding out the love square. Sydney claims she broke up with him because she didn’t want to become her mother, who got pregnant young. Fair. But when Carter reveals he’s into some light blood kink, Sydney's reaction is:
“Who knew, hidden under that sexy exterior, lurked someone� kinkier? He has a green light as far as I’m concerned.�Ah, yes, because nothing screams “trustworthy life partner� like, “I’d like to cut you, but romantically.� This too is how I decide who I date.
The kidnappings, of course, deserve their own genre within this book. People are kidnapped so frequently, the tension of it dissolves after a while. At one point, Oliver—already deep in his villain era—dons a mask (because apparently, kidnappings require a strict dress code) and ropes in his buddy Bear to abduct Sydney. He still doesn't trust her intentions and uses this time to accuse her of being a snitch. This brilliant plan ends with Bear trying to rape her. Stunning. Truly, Mensa-level planning, as one might expect when your co-conspirators are dudes named Bear.
By the halfway mark, I was rooting for a meteor to hit this universe. Penn, initially the least terrible option, who gun to my head, family's lives on the line, I might’ve picked him early on as the 'endgame' as he liked to say about him and Sydney. But he quickly tarnishes this view of him when he traffics Sydney into their university for the express purpose of tag-teaming her with Oliver. Oh, and he’s into somnophilia. Also Carter does it too at some point. But don’t worry, Sydney forgives everyone eventually because this book is nothing if not a masterclass in Stockholm syndrome. At one point, Oliver and Penn even kidnap her again (masks included, obviously). During this, Sydney mistook Oliver for Bear, the aforementioned assailant. Spoiler: she forgives Oliver too anyway because why hold men accountable when you can sigh and move on?
Carter, the ex, decides the best way to help Sydney recover from her trauma is with—wait for it—sex. Groundbreaking therapy technique. Show stopping. Never the same. Totally Unique. Einstein wishes he thought of this.
Sydney, naturally, isolates herself in her depression, leaving her friends in the dark. When one of them expresses frustration at being ghosted (fair, honestly), Penn swoops in to berate them for not being psychic. Penn’s idea of friendship management is yelling at people and, getting aggressive. Great plan, bro. Oliver, ever the opportunist, follows up by assaulting this same friend, because why not? And somehow, Sydney is shocked when the friendship dissolves.
May this friendship never find me.
The pièce de résistance? A poorly executed revenge scheme where Sydney tries to make Oliver feel the same way that he made her feel. Instead of i don't know pegging this man or something, she has the bright idea of riding him while he's restrained and a little cut up and she's surprised when bro
just thinks it's hot. She somehow managed to make this pseudo-rape pleasurable for him, though i suspect this was just an excuse for the author to morph this into the worse foursome to ever foursome.
The book’s sole redeeming quality? Sydney’s dad. I don't even know what he looks like but I know he a DILF bro. I need him. I need him bad. Honestly, just give him a spin-off and let’s never speak of this universe again. But knowing this author’s track record, even he’d probably end up in a mask by chapter five. So maybe, let's not. ...more
³¢´¡¸é³Ò·¡°Õ±á´¡â€™S
2024
BOOKS
liked it
it was amazing
Largetha’s last review of the year
it was amazing
The Yellow Wallpaper is a profoundly haunting and thought-provoking exploration of the oppressive paternalism faced by women in the 19th century. Gilman crafts a narrative that reflects the lived experiences of countless women constrained by societal expectations and medical practices rooted in patriarchal control, presenting a harrowing account of one such woman’s unraveling under the guise of care.
Initially, I didn’t grasp the depth of this sto The Yellow Wallpaper is a profoundly haunting and thought-provoking exploration of the oppressive paternalism faced by women in the 19th century. Gilman crafts a narrative that reflects the lived experiences of countless women constrained by societal expectations and medical practices rooted in patriarchal control, presenting a harrowing account of one such woman’s unraveling under the guise of care.
Initially, I didn’t grasp the depth of this story on my first read. I found myself skimming the surface, focusing on the events rather than the underlying implications, and was prepared to rate it three stars. However, as I sat down to write this review and began analysing the story for a second time, I discovered the profound layers of meaning beneath its deceptively simple narrative. With this newfound understanding, my perspective shifted entirely, and I now believe this book deserves nothing less than five stars.
At the heart of the story lies a poignant critique of how women’s mental health is often misunderstood and mistreated. The protagonist is a woman suffering from what is likely postpartum depression, though her condition is dismissed and mislabeled as 'neurasthenia' by her husband, John, who is both her spouse and physician. Her voice, already diminished by societal norms, is further silenced under the dual authority of her husband’s roles as both spouse and doctor, leaving her no room to question his prescribed treatment. While she doubts the validity of her husband’s treatment plan, her role as a “dutiful wife� compel her to comply. She articulates this internal struggle with heartbreaking clarity:
The story takes place in a summer home rented by the couple that quickly becomes the woman's makeshift prison. She's confined to a room with barred windows and yellow wallpaper. Her husband John’s restrictions are devastatingly thorough: she is forbidden from writing, discouraged from walking outside, and continually dismissed whenever she expresses discomfort or frustration. Even her own doubts about the treatment are invalidated as she begins to gaslight herself, thinking,
All of her attempts to voice her worsening condition are silenced, leaving her with no recourse but to retreat inward. As she says:
The wallpaper in the room becomes the focal point of her deteriorating mental state. At first, she finds it unpleasant, even unsettling, but as her isolation deepens, as her desire to write, think, and engage with the world is forcibly repressed, it transforms into an object of fixation. Her suppressed imagination finds an outlet in the wallpaper, where she begins to see the figure of a woman trapped within it. This imagery is a powerful metaphor for the protagonist’s own condition, as she too feels confined and stifled by her husband’s control and societal demands. The trapped woman represents the parts of herself society demands she suppress, and in one of the most haunting moments, she becomes the woman in the wallpaper, tearing it down seemingly in a desperate attempt to free herself but it could also have been her way of trying to obliterate the very part of herself that society—and by extension, her husband—deems unacceptable. It’s not just an act of rebellion but also a tragic reflection of her internalised oppression. Her anger toward the wallpaper reflects her own self-loathing for craving autonomy and creativity, which she has been led to believe are the root of her illness. By destroying the wallpaper, she symbolically tries to destroy these aspects of herself, hoping to conform to the ideal of the “perfect wife� that she believes will restore her health and satisfy her husband.
This duality—the simultaneous rebellion and surrender—makes the moment even more haunting. It underscores the depth of her entrapment, not just physically in the room but also mentally and emotionally within the societal norms of her time. Her act of tearing the wallpaper is not purely liberating but also deeply tragic, as it reveals how thoroughly she has internalised the belief that her individuality is a weakness to be eradicated. The tragedy of The Yellow Wallpaper lies in the reality that this “cure� was never designed to heal her but to mold her into a passive, compliant version of herself—a role demanded by both her husband and the society in which they live.
When I revisited this story for a deeper analysis, I realised its brilliance lies in its subtlety. The Yellow Wallpaper is a masterful critique of the structures that silenced women, and it resonates as powerfully today as it did when it was first written. My initial reading did not do it justice, but upon reflection, I recognise its profound commentary and the skill with which it conveys it. This is not merely a story; it is a powerful indictment of a society that suppresses individuality and freedom, and it deserves every bit of its five-star rating. ...more
Initially, I didn’t grasp the depth of this sto The Yellow Wallpaper is a profoundly haunting and thought-provoking exploration of the oppressive paternalism faced by women in the 19th century. Gilman crafts a narrative that reflects the lived experiences of countless women constrained by societal expectations and medical practices rooted in patriarchal control, presenting a harrowing account of one such woman’s unraveling under the guise of care.
Initially, I didn’t grasp the depth of this story on my first read. I found myself skimming the surface, focusing on the events rather than the underlying implications, and was prepared to rate it three stars. However, as I sat down to write this review and began analysing the story for a second time, I discovered the profound layers of meaning beneath its deceptively simple narrative. With this newfound understanding, my perspective shifted entirely, and I now believe this book deserves nothing less than five stars.
At the heart of the story lies a poignant critique of how women’s mental health is often misunderstood and mistreated. The protagonist is a woman suffering from what is likely postpartum depression, though her condition is dismissed and mislabeled as 'neurasthenia' by her husband, John, who is both her spouse and physician. Her voice, already diminished by societal norms, is further silenced under the dual authority of her husband’s roles as both spouse and doctor, leaving her no room to question his prescribed treatment. While she doubts the validity of her husband’s treatment plan, her role as a “dutiful wife� compel her to comply. She articulates this internal struggle with heartbreaking clarity:
If a physician of high standing, and one’s own husband, assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression—a slight hysterical tendency—what is one to do?
The story takes place in a summer home rented by the couple that quickly becomes the woman's makeshift prison. She's confined to a room with barred windows and yellow wallpaper. Her husband John’s restrictions are devastatingly thorough: she is forbidden from writing, discouraged from walking outside, and continually dismissed whenever she expresses discomfort or frustration. Even her own doubts about the treatment are invalidated as she begins to gaslight herself, thinking,
I’m sure I never used to be so sensitive. I think it is due to this nervous condition.Instead, he prescribes a regimen of silence, solitude, and physical inactivity—a treatment that exacerbates her suffering rather than alleviating it. The protagonist herself notes:
Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement and change, would do me good.a quiet plea for agency that is repeatedly ignored. John insists this isolation is for her benefit. But this suppression of her creativity and individuality only deepens her suffering, as the treatment denies her the very outlets that might provide relief. John’s actions serve to uphold a societal view of women as fragile and mentally inferior. His patronising control reinforces a system that infantilises women under the guise of protection and benevolence. His actions—no matter how well-intentioned—underscore the damaging effects of such beliefs.
All of her attempts to voice her worsening condition are silenced, leaving her with no recourse but to retreat inward. As she says:
I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a little it would relieve the press of ideas and rest me. But I find I get pretty tired when I try.
The wallpaper in the room becomes the focal point of her deteriorating mental state. At first, she finds it unpleasant, even unsettling, but as her isolation deepens, as her desire to write, think, and engage with the world is forcibly repressed, it transforms into an object of fixation. Her suppressed imagination finds an outlet in the wallpaper, where she begins to see the figure of a woman trapped within it. This imagery is a powerful metaphor for the protagonist’s own condition, as she too feels confined and stifled by her husband’s control and societal demands. The trapped woman represents the parts of herself society demands she suppress, and in one of the most haunting moments, she becomes the woman in the wallpaper, tearing it down seemingly in a desperate attempt to free herself but it could also have been her way of trying to obliterate the very part of herself that society—and by extension, her husband—deems unacceptable. It’s not just an act of rebellion but also a tragic reflection of her internalised oppression. Her anger toward the wallpaper reflects her own self-loathing for craving autonomy and creativity, which she has been led to believe are the root of her illness. By destroying the wallpaper, she symbolically tries to destroy these aspects of herself, hoping to conform to the ideal of the “perfect wife� that she believes will restore her health and satisfy her husband.
This duality—the simultaneous rebellion and surrender—makes the moment even more haunting. It underscores the depth of her entrapment, not just physically in the room but also mentally and emotionally within the societal norms of her time. Her act of tearing the wallpaper is not purely liberating but also deeply tragic, as it reveals how thoroughly she has internalised the belief that her individuality is a weakness to be eradicated. The tragedy of The Yellow Wallpaper lies in the reality that this “cure� was never designed to heal her but to mold her into a passive, compliant version of herself—a role demanded by both her husband and the society in which they live.
When I revisited this story for a deeper analysis, I realised its brilliance lies in its subtlety. The Yellow Wallpaper is a masterful critique of the structures that silenced women, and it resonates as powerfully today as it did when it was first written. My initial reading did not do it justice, but upon reflection, I recognise its profound commentary and the skill with which it conveys it. This is not merely a story; it is a powerful indictment of a society that suppresses individuality and freedom, and it deserves every bit of its five-star rating. ...more
What did you read this year?
