I’m going to keep it simple: I love to read. I hit a huge reading block when I started secondary school and had to read on a schedule. I was randomly inspired to read The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman sometime around the start of University and I was completely inspired. Exhilarated by the thought of reading again: I stormed all my local charity shops and looked everywhere for some amazing reads.
I found that my favourite genre of book is people in New York having a breakdown! New York is one of those places that sounds dreamy in a lot of different ways: gorgeous architecture, zany locals and bewitching restaurants. But in reality, the thought of living there for more than a year sounds like an overwhelming nightmare.
So let me talk you through some stories that I have strong opinions on!
Spoilers ahead
1. A Little Life written by Hanya Yanigahara
TikTok built up “A Little Life” to be life changing, heart pounding and jaw droppingly engaging. I began this novel at the same time as my bestie Evelyn so we could delight in this literary masterpiece together (boy were we in for a treat). We had the highest of expectations and were slowly beat up by this stupid book. The novel is deeply intense and emotionally charged, following the lives of four friends, with the focus on Jude, whose traumatic past slowly unravels over the course of the story. The imagery was beautiful (I think, maybe I just have Stockholm Syndrome).
What I struggled with was the sheer amount of emotional manipulation at play. The way it constantly tests your limits as a story: pushing you to the brink of tears is kind of exhausting.
Yes, the portrayal of trauma is deeply important and meaningful, but there were times when I felt like the book was more focused on creating that emotional gut punch rather than telling a meaningful story. Nothing good ever lasted.
It’s definitely not a book to pick up lightly or maybe at all! I couldn’t be paid to read it again. The repeated message throughout the book is that life will continuously break you down and then it’s over. Very inspiring.
2. The Great Gatsby written by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Now the Great Gatsby is a book that I can get behind. Fitzgerald paints a beautifully damaged portrayal of New York during prohibition. We follow Nick Carraway as he navigates the social scenes and witnesses scandals. He slowly finds that his next door neighbour has a godlike presence: in being an unknown millionaire, he is the center of every piece of gossip. Beneath the rumours lies the story of a man who is desperately clinging to an idealized past and a love he can never truly have with a married woman called Daisy.
Fitzgerald wrote like his rent was past due. This book weaves a web of despair, symbolism and longing. Gatsby’s sadness is a testament that money can’t buy happiness. As a witness, we sit at the sidelines wishing for the characters to take a leap into the unknown.
Fitzgerald takes a simple story: two people love each other and life gets in the way. He then builds a complex tapestry of symbolism and social commentary around it, turning it into a critique on the American Dream itself. Gatsby’s undying love for Daisy is more than just a romance – it’s an illusion. A hope built on the idea that the past can be repeated and then molded into something perfect. Fitzgerald shows us that while we can chase our dreams, we can never truly recapture what we’ve lost or fix the things that have broken us.
To put it simply, if I was trapped alone on a deserted island: I could read this book again and again for the rest of my life.
3. My Year of Rest and Relaxation written by Ottessa Moshfegh
My friend Tashi put me on to this one: I’d never heard of Ottessa Moshfegh before but the title really intrigued me. Our narrator lives on the Upper East Side having recently graduated from Columbia. Furthermore, both her parents die suddenly and she’s left stinking rich from the inheritance she receives. We learn that she’s become quite dissatisfied with her life and in an effort to “reset”, she begins abusing prescription drugs and attempting to stay awake as little as possible. As the story unwinds we learn that our narrator is blacking out and going on midnight adventures.
I devoured this book in a day: part of the beauty is within the simplicity. Our narrator decides she needs the world to stop and so she takes control of her reality. The story is absurd in a lot of places while being concerningly relatable in others. It wasn’t until I had finished my odyssey reading Moshfegh’s masterpiece that I realised I didn’t even know the narrator’s name.
There’s something magnetic about watching people unravel in the city that’s supposed to have it all. These books are messy, emotional and I love them for it. New York might seemingly break its characters, but it makes for truly amazing fiction.