What a perfect lil nugget of a book! I went into this with no context, and was really pleased with what I found. It was especially rewarding (and an interesting contrast) to listen to this book, as the central piece of the story was the narrators 'ebbing tide' of hearing loss. I have only read a few books that take place in the deaf community before (True Biz, for one), and to categorize this book as one and the same would be inaccurate, as the main character is very much an island in a sea of the hearing. The story does such an excellent job in immersing the reader in the confusion and hopelessness that the mc is experiencing as she navigates work and friendships and relationships amongst her condition. There is a good amount of self-reflection, too, as the mc tries to navigate her identity as one who had functioned as a hearing person for all of her life and is gradually losing her place in that space. This book brought me a lot of understanding and nuance in an area that I was lacking, but also presented a perfectly engaging narrative and lovely writing.

Thank you to Graywolf Press for the opportunity to read and review! I will absolutely be recommending this (and already have).

This was an excellent memoir. I liked the writing and it flowed well. I would read more from this author.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

Jellyfish Have No Ears by Adèle Rosenfeld, translated by Jeffrey Zuckerman, is a profoundly introspective exploration of identity, loss, and the precarious relationship between silence and language. Through poetic prose and vivid imagery, Rosenfeld invites readers into the deeply internal world of her protagonist, a woman grappling with the gradual loss of her hearing and the life-altering decision of whether to receive a cochlear implant.

The novel's strength lies in its lyrical style, which weaves abstract reflections with concrete details, creating a richly textured narrative. Rosenfeld’s language is meticulous, often evoking the fragility and intensity of her protagonist’s emotions. Rosenfeld’s prose perfectly captures the protagonist's struggle with the erosion of her auditory world and the complex interplay between words and silence. This struggle is mirrored in the broader themes of the novel, which delve into the psychological and emotional impacts of hearing loss, touching on isolation, adaptation, and the fear of losing a familiar yet imperfect sense of self.

Rosenfeld’s narrative is also deeply engaged with the complexities of living with an invisible disability. The protagonist’s contemplation of whether she is “deaf enough or not deaf enough” resonates with many in the disability community, who often grapple with internalized ableism and the societal pressures to conform to a rigid standard of normalcy. Rosenfeld captures the exhaustion and trauma that can accompany the relentless need to adapt in an ableist world, where the protagonist is expected to perform normalcy even at the cost of her well-being.

One aspect of Jellyfish Have No Ears that warrants careful attention is a passage around the midway point of the novel, where the narrator uses language that I found inappropriate. In a scene set in a doctor’s office, the narrator, feeling uneasy interacting with another deaf patient, describes this tension as “autistic discomfort,” despite neither character being autistic. While I understand what Rosenfeld might be attempting to convey, I found the use of "autistic" as an adjective troubling and ableist. It’s important to note that this was in an Advance Reader’s Copy, and I’ve since confirmed that UK and Australian editions do not include the same language, so it’s possible that the final US version was also edited. Nevertheless, this passage could be jarring or unsafe for readers, especially those within the autistic community, and it’s important to approach this moment with caution. The intent behind this language might be unclear due to the novel being a translation, but the impact remains significant. As someone who values inclusive and respectful language, I felt it necessary to highlight this issue for those who might find it concerning.

While Jellyfish Have No Ears is undoubtedly a beautifully written and resonant exploration of disability and D/deafness, it does have its moments of ambiguity that left me somewhat bewildered, particularly towards the end. The narrative threads involving Anna, the soldier, the botanist, and the dog became increasingly confusing as the story progressed, making it challenging to discern whether these characters were aspects of Anna’s psyche or something else entirely. Despite my confusion, the prose remained captivating, and the novel’s exploration of disability was both powerful and thought-provoking. Ultimately, while the plot’s complexity may leave some readers scratching their heads, the beauty of Rosenfeld's language and the depth of the themes explored make this a worthwhile read for those interested in nuanced narratives about disability, even if the ending feels a bit elusive.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who value lyrical prose and introspective narratives, those interested in exploring themes of disability and D/deafness, fans of character-driven stories with complex emotional landscapes, anyone who enjoys works that challenge traditional narrative structures.

🔑 Key Themes: Disability and D/deafness, Identity and Belonging, Social Isolation, Ambiguity and Uncertainty, Language and Communication.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Medical Content (minor), Alcohol (minor), Sexual Content (minor), Ableism (moderate), Drug Use (minor).

Thank you to the publisher for giving me the chance to read an early digital copy of this book. This was a beautiful story about hearing loss and how there are varying degrees of it, and how being deaf or hard of hearing is not a monolithic experience. It also touched a sensitive topic in the deaf community, cochlear implants. It definitely made me think of them in a different way, and I always appreciate books that make me think about things in a different way or open my eyes in some way.