Hot Milk

Okay wow! I've only ever read Levy's non-fiction, which I thought was quite underwhelming (though not unconvincing), but I really, really liked this novel. Much like her non-fiction, Levy's prose is subtle but extremely powerful. Her writing here reminds me of the confidence (I assume) you must have when using a type-writer, the confidence to know you can't (and won't) mess up.


Alaaa me trying to be deep

well… that was interesting.

0.5⭐️ for the cover.

I always love a weird surreal book, and this one definitely fulfilled that for me! Unique in that nothing truly outside the realm of possibility happens, but it still feels unreal and dream-like (or nightmarish?) A little slow paced for me but ultimately super satisfying.

Full of metaphors and anthropological observations, Hot Milk is a hypnotic rite of passage for 25 year old Sofia, who spends a summer in the south of Spain, to help her mother deal with her mysterious leg condition. It's a tale of seduction and emancipation, of the illusions one chooses to believe, the memories one chooses to ignore, the realities one chooses to escape.

I am quite sure this book is made to be consumed as audiobook, and I have immensely enjoyed the pleasure of having Romola Garai whisper sultry prose into my ears. Especially her slow accented intonations when speaking for Ingrid almost gave me chills. One of those four stars is definitely for the audio experience.

Interesting (if somewhat depressing) little book. Ripe with symbolism (of which I'm sure I missed half or so), a dreamlike feeling, stream-of-consciousness but not really.

“You have such a blatant stare, but I have watched you as closely as you have watched me. It's what mothers do. We watch our children. We know our gaze is powerful so we pretend not to look.”

I really enjoyed parts of this book and felt that Levy is certainly a gifted writer. But it felt forced at times in its narrative as if the writer was hell bent on taking it in a predetermined direction and losing the little wonders along the way to that end. Really good stuff on the mother-daughter relationship front and the finding of self when self has never been allowed to blossom.

Hot Milk is a novel written by Deborah Levy and was short listed for Man Booker prize 2016. On the surface it appears as a sweet, short and simple tale about the love-hate relationship shared by a mother and her daughter. But I feel the simplicity of the plot is a clever facade, below which can be identified a complex study of human identity and self esteem. 

Read the full story here :

http://diaryofaragingbull.blogspot.com/2017/01/hot-milk-by-deborah-levy-deceptively.html

Hot Milk is not a perfect novel, by any means, but it can be quite enjoyable. It's disjointed and quirky, but these are features that can be endearing for some readers. Others may be put off by it. This is the first book I have read by Deborah Levy, so I'm not sure if this dream-like prose is indicative of her style, but after finishing Hot Milk I was immediately ready for more.

There's a very ethereal quality that runs throughout the novel, but it's all quite subtle. Some readers will likely feel “things are off,” but not necessarily be able to put words to any of it. In an early scene, for instance, the protagonist and her mother are in a doctor's office. The doctor's front teeth are made of gold. There's a stuffed monkey in a glass case. The mother begins to cough. The doctor coughs. She moves her leg and the doctor moves his. After a strange exchange, the doctor randomly announces, “I think you are going to sneeze soon.” None of it is Twin Peaks Red-Room kind-of-crazy, but it's all so peculiar. The novel is filled with these moments and also a dialogue that is unnatural. It's intriguing, but what's the point?

Levy seems to be addressing several different themes in Hot Milk, but doesn't explain them. Perhaps she expects her readers to be smarter than they are. Or perhaps she doesn't feel the need for the answers to be obvious. Though there is strong emphasis on gender confusion, the primary subject is memory. This likely explain the dream-like quality of the novel. One character states, “memory is a bomb.” At another point, the protagonist ruminates on “the way imagination and reality tumble together and mess things up.” Simple events like observing that her father was partial to dill is followed by a reflection that this observation “will become a memory.” There is so much emphasis put on imagination and dreams, matched with the surreal plot, and one may assume that this story isn't what it seems to be. But then what is it? That answer is never obvious.

I enjoyed the unknown. I respected the author's right to tell her story in a slightly off-kilter manner. Other readers won't be so forgiving and so Hot Milk becomes the sort of novel that some will love, some will hate, and many will just shake their heads at and say, “huh?”

Levy is a favorite for the Man Booker Prize and for good reason. Not only has she written a wonderful novel, but she's the most accomplished of the nominees. The author of seven novels, several collections, a work of non-fiction, and many plays, Levy has won numerous awards and was previously shortlisted for the Man Booker in 2012. If the Man Booker was judged by the same standards as the Academy Awards, Levy would be a shoo-in. Fortunately, the Man Booker Prize judges do not have a history of awarding the most culturally significant author or the one who was slighted the last time; they tend to award the prize to the most deserving book. And while Hot Milk is a fine novel, I'm not sure it has the universality and depth necessary to take home the prize. It's certainly possible, and I'd say its odds are much higher than the other two nominees I have so far read—Eileen and The Sellout—but in a world that seems to be simultaneously on the brink of destruction and enlightenment, the winner needs to offer something more. So far, Hot Milk is my favorite to take the prize, but there is still half the field of contenders to consider.