01 May Book Review of The Vulnerables
Finding Comfort in the Uncertain: A Review of The Vulnerables by Sigrid Nunez
When I first picked up The Vulnerables, I approached it with no expectations—a rare treat these days! So often, we set ourselves up for disappointment with lofty hopes or grand literary ambitions. But here was a Covid Lockdown book, which often falls flat for me. Yet, within its pages, I found a treasure trove of wit, introspection, and a strangely comforting camaraderie amidst chaos, thanks to Sigrid Nunez’s captivating prose.
The story unfolds in a deserted New York City during the pandemic. Our narrator, a writer (and let’s be honest, a version of Nunez herself), takes on the task of bird-sitting for a friend in California. Not long into her solitude, an unexpected guest—a college dropout with familial woes—arrives at her doorstep, complicating her serene life. Nunez skillfully paints their interactions, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the familiar awkwardness of two strangers cohabitating, especially during such a fraught time.
What truly resonated with me was the narrator’s journey of self-exploration. She dives not just into her immediate challenges, but also into rich tangents about literature. It’s joyful to see her grapple with the works of Joan Didion, Chekhov, and Borges, often relishing the art of reading itself. As a fellow book lover, this meta-narrative felt like a warm hug amid a gritty urban landscape suffocated by solitude. Nunez invites us into this world, accentuating why we love reading about reading—it’s the lifeblood of connection in times of isolation, isn’t it?
Nunez’s writing style is both lively and contemplative. The episodic nature of the narrative makes it feel like a collection of delightful vignettes, which allows for moments of poignant reflection intermixed with humor. I particularly enjoyed the line: "If you’re having trouble concentrating, goes the advice, try writing very short things." It struck a chord, capturing the simplicity and depth of the creative struggle. Nunez weaves a delightful tapestry of personal anecdotes and literary references, which felt relatable and inspiring.
Now, let’s talk pacing. While the book maintains a leisurely gait, its rhythm felt just right for those of us navigating the quiet, introspective moments of lockdown. I devoured it in a single day, feeling almost greedy for the comfort it provided, like a warm bowl of soup on a chilly day.
As for who might enjoy The Vulnerables, I’d say anyone who appreciates literary references, humorous observations on human interactions, and a deep exploration of solitude will find a friend in this book. It’s a reminder that even in life’s most challenging moments—filled with uncertainty and isolation—the shared experiences of reading and connecting with others can bring solace.
Reflecting on my experience, I realize that coming into this book with zero expectations allowed me to fully appreciate its nuances. Now, the tough question looms: will I ruin this delightful experience by diving into another of Nunez’s works, bringing along those pesky high expectations? Still pondering, I take comfort in knowing that whatever awaits in her next book will be well worth the exploration.
Discover more about The Vulnerables on GoodReads >>
