Heather McCalden's "The Observable Universe" is a mesmerizing and thought-provoking novel that beautifully weaves together science, philosophy, and personal narrative. McCalden's lyrical prose and keen insights into human nature create a compelling tapestry that explores the vastness of the cosmos and the intimate intricacies of human life. The characters are deeply relatable, each grappling with profound questions about existence, love, and the unknown. McCalden’s storytelling is both intellectually stimulating and emotionally resonant, making "The Observable Universe" a standout read. This novel is a must for anyone fascinated by the intersection of the universe's grandeur and the subtleties of the human heart.

An incredibly accomplished book that managed to weave together so many strands to create a fascinating look at life in the modern age.

An innovative, fascinating and exciting memoir exploring the personal battles of grief and how that intertwined with the ever expanding and changing online world. I really enjoyed the shifting perspectives and observations that all tied together beautifully

This book was a great reminder of exactly the kinds of thoughtful and multi-faceted work I have come to expect from Fitzcarraldo- what starts as an essay on one thing soon absorbs many other events, ideas and schools of thought into its orbit.

Beginning with a desire to understand her parents' lives, the book develops into something even more interesting- a discussion of virality, an attempt to understand disease and illness, and a tale of love.

I received an advanced copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

i read this ages ago and forgot to log it oop. but yeah, it was just fine, honestly — i remember some bits were far bolder than others, but it was still interesting nevertheless.

"The Observable Universe" by Heather McCalden is a thought-provoking collection of poetry that explores the complexities of human existence and the vastness of the universe. McCalden's poetry is deeply introspective, delving into themes of identity, love, loss, and the nature of reality.

One of the most striking aspects of McCalden's poetry is her use of language. Her words are carefully chosen and beautifully crafted, creating vivid and evocative imagery that lingers in the mind long after the poem has been read. The poems in this collection are both accessible and profound, inviting readers to reflect on their own lives and the world around them.

Another strength of "The Observable Universe" is its emotional depth. McCalden's poems are raw and honest, expressing the full range of human emotions with clarity and sensitivity. Whether she is exploring the pain of loss or the joy of love, McCalden's words resonate with authenticity and power.

Overall, "The Observable Universe" is a remarkable collection of poetry that showcases McCalden's talent as a poet. It is a book that rewards multiple readings, offering new insights and revelations with each encounter. Highly recommended for poetry lovers and anyone interested in exploring the human experience.

I really wanted to love this book as I’ve been wanting to read more about the HIV/AIDS epidemic but sadly this is a DNF at around 42 pages in. The writing is very stream of consciousness and all over the place topic-wise. I wanted more about the authors personal story and maybe some background/historical facts but it felt like any topic that came into the authors head was written down, even if just for a single paragraph. I couldn’t focus on this book or feel motivated to continue.

I found 'The Observable Universe' to be fragmentary exploration of grief and the concept of the virus, both online and in the body. Though the form initially took a few pages to get along with - for it's mixture of short and longer form sections - I ended up really liking the way it was written and I think it lends itself to the disjointed nature of grief, especially when experienced by a child. The history of AIDS/HIV was fascinating and deeply moving at times and this is definitely a book I perhaps wouldn't have picked up myself but one that I will be sure to recommend to friends and family going forward.

Really enjoyed this book and purchased it as I did not finish it. I thought it was very intelligent and well crafted

I really liked the premise of this book, but unfortunately, it just isn’t for me.

It’s not that the writing is bad, quite the opposite. I really did enjoy some chapters. However, the way the book is structured into randomly organized chapters made it impossible to follow for me, and made me not enjoy it as much as I thought I would.

The parts about her family, both her parents and her grandmother, were beautiful, and I wanted more of that. The more factual chapters were interesting as well, but they were just that – a dump of facts that anyone could have gotten elsewhere.

I was really interested in the more personal aspects of the book, and would have loved to read more of that. The author mentions, at one point, writing a book about grief. For me it was a pitty that that wasn’t explored more.

Overall, the writing is good, but there are just too many topics mixed in that didn’t quite make sense for me as a reader.

The Observable Universe by Heather McCalden is unlike anything I've ever read before, even when I have experience reading fragmentary memoirs, because the scope of McCalden's recall and writing is vast and unique.

Through an exploration of childhood, present day, memory, the advent of the World Wide Web, and researching the AIDs crisis in the 80s and early 90s, McCalden recreates a world in which she has grown up and lived. A world that in many ways has been unforgiving. In building this universe for us, McCalden transitions between academic writing and personal essays, quotations, and short statements. For many, this style will be too fragmentary or disjointed, but for me it was the perfect reflection of how we consume, understand and attempt to process our experiences, both those in and out of our control.

Most importantly, McCalden's work is a work about grief, as she mentions herself in the book. All of the above interweaves to leave a person at the centre who wishes she knew her parents better before they died, who wishes she cherished her maternal grandmother more than perhaps she did, and who wishes all of the advancements in our society meant growing up and living with grief was easier.

And so, if you enjoy memoirs that are more abstract/fragmentary, you'll love The Observable Universe. It truly is one of a kind.

Earlier this year, I made my way through Sarah Schulman's monolithic 'Let The Record Show', and I found this book to exist perhaps on the other side of that coin. Rather than large swathes of (occasionally impenetrable) historical record, McCalden employs a more freeform, floating prose, that engages with the complexity of the subject matter in a way which reflects its own mercurial nature.

My enduring impression of this book, unfortunately, is one of disappointment: while McCalden is clearly a strong writer, one who is attuned to both the tiny and the sublime, shattering wonders of life and loss, capable of describing almost anything in a way which is affecting, and perceptive, and often quite ingenious, reading it felt like less of an experience and more of a thought experiment - an unstructured, unsatisfying attempt at showing off. For, while some of her metaphors and turns of phrase really were excellent, striking enough to stop a reader in their tracks, in their abundance the overall effect was dulled - towards the end, my eyes began to skim through sentences, searching for something with a little more heft.

As is obvious from the book's blurb, and from the extensive range of subjects explored across its slim, fragmentary chapters - the loss of both her parents to AIDs, the inception and virality of the internet, pop culture and photography and private detectives - there is a rich array of potential material (autobiographical or otherwise) to draw upon here...I just wish that McCalden had chosen just one, or two, instead of packing them all into 400-odd pages (and seemingly in the order they first came to mind). Structure or coherence is, of course, not necessary to produce a good book, but without it, a weaker one tends to flounder; its flaws are made more painfully evident. Faced with large swathes of white space, as the vast majority of its chapters were comprised of a single paragraph, I couldn't help but wonder if the text would have benefited from some tightening up - instead of her ideas, what I took away from this book just that: empty, formless, and largely void of meaning.

Despite this critical review, I do admire McCalden's narrative voice and strong sense of style - thank you to NetGalley and Fitzcarraldo Editions for this ARC ebook!

Some of the topics had a passing allure, but not enough for them to stick.
Since Heather McCalden is an artist, reading this was intended to be similar to listening to an album of music. According to her website's biography, she is fascinated with the passage of time and its preservation (aren't we all?). Her main concerns are loss, melancholy, defeat, and appropriation in an effort to make up for lost time.

At the beginning, she gives patronising reading instructions, explaining that the album is about grief and that each fragment builds on the one before it to create an experience. They failed to. The final outcome was a jumble of bewilderment.

Loss is, in fact, essential. AIDS claimed both of McCalden's parents, and this permeates the story. I particularly liked the mention of AZT, or azidothymidine, an anti-cancer medication that was abandoned after it was discovered to be useless against cancer and later brought back as a potential AIDS treatment. I particularly like the reflections on CRISPR, which, ethics aside, was an interesting breakthrough in and of itself, but was especially interesting from an AIDS perspective.

I'm a big fan of the Fitzcarraldo Editions publications. The contemporary fiction it publishes is generally translated and introduces you to exceptionally good literary authors that you would have otherwise missed. It's how I discovered Guadalupe Nettel and to a lesser extent, Annie Ernaux (because the latter is everywhere).
This, though...hmmm.
I'm a fast reader and this is not meant to be read in an impatient way. Some of the observations were fleetingly interesting, but not really enough to stick.
Heather McCalden is an artist and this was meant to to read like listening to a musical album. Her bio on her website describes her as preoccupied with the passing of time (aren't we all?) and preservation thereof. Her themes are loss, nostalgia, defeat and appropriation, hoping to gain back something to do with lost time.
She provides instructions for how to read (patronising) at the start detailing how it's an album about grief and each fragment builds upon the next until they form an experience. They didn't. The end result was a mass of confusion.
Indeed, loss is central. McCalden lost both her parents to AIDS and this seeps through the narrative. I especially enjoyed the reference to the anti cancer treatment (AZT - Azidothymidine) which was found ineffective at dealing with cancer and shelved until it was resurrected years later as a possibly suitable AIDS drug. I also enjoyed the ponderings on CRISPR - which was a fascinating development in and of itself (ethics aside) but especially from an AIDS perspective.

Did not finish. No structure, mixed up stream of consciousness type style. Not for me. I have read a lot about HIV & AIDS over the years so was looking forward to this having read the synopsis. Alas, I was very disappointed. It was as if the author wrote a section as it came to her. A paragraph of information followed by a paragraph on emotions and memories with no apparent link. Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for a prepublication ebook.