I’ve been in a bit of a mood lately. My primary reads have been The Poppy War trilogy (just about to start the final book), I just started A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara (send good vibes please), and I recently finished Paradise Rot by Jenny Hval in one sitting.
To say that this was a pleasant read would be an outright lie because this book took all of my familiar societal boundaries and let them decay in the most grotesque ways.
Jo is leaving her safe zone by attending university in a new country, and she’s moved into an apartment with another woman named Carral. Normal enough, except for the fact that the apartment used to be a brewery, and the warehouse-like space is only divided by super-thin walls that don’t even reach the ceiling. So you can hear everything, and I mean everything. There’s a lot of urine talk so be warned.
When I think about books I’ve read, there’s an emotion that always ties into it. With Paradise Rot, it’s less of an emotion and more of a sensation. I feel submurged in the sludge of decay. I can taste the bitter sweetness of slightly bad apples. It’s a sickly, musical, grimy texture that accompanies this book as Jo leads us through a coming-of-age story that feels more like a fever dream. If you’re a fan of Hval’s music, then this is a book that will feel familiar.
What’s interesting about this book is that Jo’s coming-of-age story isn’t built on the usual foundations of struggles leading to triumphs. It’s more like the process of fermentation, and from the first pages, we immediately start to see Jo break down and transform. In Jo’s case, self-realization feel less like a fight and more like a caterpillar crumbling into a sticky sludge and emerging with wings.
I suddenly knew nothing about myself, nothing seemed right in English, nothing was true
Finding a sense of safety in Carral is the one moment of clarity and acts almost like an anchor at first, but then even that begins to transform. A severe lack of privacy leads the two women into a friendship that seems a bit more intimate than it should, and that’s when things get interesting.
Jo begins taking tea the English way, a classmate talks about how she has begun taking on Carral’s mannerisms and speech, and as things become even more confusing, Carral starts telling Jo about her childhood, which perfectly mimics Jo’s.
‘It felt like the brewery had been transformed into a big wet tank that was waiting for Carral and I to decompose within it: a rotten, reeking Garden of Eden.’
Fight Club was an instant thought in my head, but this story felt less like the interactions of an alter ego and more… something else. Is Carral a vision of Jo’s own sexually-awakening self? Perhaps the lingering rumor of the girl who fell into the tank of beer and died is true…
Either way, Carral is responsible for dissolving Jo’s boundaries and allows her to explore her buried queer desires. She ferments, and through all of the grossness of human nature (and there’s a lot of gross humanness), emerges someone new and realized.
There are two versions of myself and only one managed to get out.
Paradise Rot is a quick read at only 160 pages. For those interested in reading… “urine” for a treat!
I’ll let myself out.