A character driven novel with a coming of age story in modern UK in the throes of Brexit. As other reviewers point out, no plot to speak of, really, but a well drawn character study.

Thanks to Netgalley and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for an advance copy in exchange for an honest review!

Three Rooms is a gorgeously written character study focusing on a young girl as she passes from university to the working world. It is a really good exploration of modern issues facing millenials in the UK, and had a lot of reflection on modern global issues as well. It brings up a lot of good points through the protagonist's interactions with society, her peers, and her surroundings.

Its a really solid reflection on the state of the world, but the book definitely feels a bit empty. If you like plot driven narratives, this will not be the book for you, but if you're a fan of reflective pieces with high quality writing, this would be a good pick for you.

3.5/5

Jo Hamya's prose has a Cuskian feel to it, which I absolutely adore, as it is both emotional and contained. The narrator's observations were not as engaging as the storytelling or the writing style, however the exploration of identity and stability in 21st century life as themes are handled delicately and exceptionally well. I will definitely be reading more of the author's work.

This book is a well-composed, almost self-aware piece of literature with an experimental vibe, and is quick to read. Part II spoke to me, in particular, because I saw a lot of myself reflected in the protagonist. Unfortunately, I believe a lot of nuance was lost on me because I'm not versed in English politics. But that's my fault, not the author's.

This is an emotional and honest book, first person perspective, focusing on the narrator’s search for a place to live, a room of her own, a home. It follows her from an Oxford flat, to a London couch rental, and the eventual grudging return to her parent’s home. Politics in the UK and the conflict over Brexit weave their way through the narrative, which also encompasses a broad social commentary on privilege, lifestyle, inequality, and generational differences.

The writing is rich and dense. The narrator gives us opinions but also doesn’t shy away from seeing some of her own shortcomings. Secondary characters populate the story but don’t take over the narrative—they provide insight and counterpoints to the narrator’s own viewpoint and opinions, at times in conflict and times subtly affecting those beliefs.

It is intellectually engaging, especially now, after Brexit has become reality and the last year has upended so many of the norms we are accustomed to.

I think this is a strong debut novel and I forward to reading more books in future by this author.

Really strong writing here. I'm probably the wrong age and gender for this, but I do like literary fiction. This is a bit slow overall, and will not satisfy many readers. It also doesn't have the polish of a more experience author and it felt like she tried too hard once in a while, but with so much promise, this is probably an author to watch. Serious readers and literary fans will likely enjoy this most. 3.5 Stars.

Thanks very much for the ARC for review!!

This seemed well written, but I was bored. It doesn't really have a plot; it's more of a portrait. It's a book about circumstances rather than a specific person of story. The protagonist has no name, is an indeterminate non-white race with a father who has some sort of accent, seems maybe bisexual but never dates. She's fairly generic - liberal, overeducated and underemployed, and having difficulty affording a place to live. The book is about the economic obstacles millenials face and the political atmosphere in Britain (mostly around Brexit), and I guess about social media. But it was hard for me to pay attention without a story, and I wasn't very invested in the character.

It's 2018 and our unnamed female protagonist moves into student accommodation in Oxford. She tries hard to find her footing in what is essentially an elitist environment. Her peers view has as the tokenistic BAME addition to their ivory tower, yet she is comfortably middle-class and unable to empathise with marginalised communities.

She drifts through the months, obsessing about other people's Twitter and Instagram feeds. Soon she finds herself in London temping for a posh society magazine run by aristocrats, while couch-renting for £80/week. Wondering why she cannot afford better lunches than the intern.

She navigates through these temporary rooms in her life while observing Britain's struggle with its perceived greatness: Brexit, Grenfell, climate change, labour rights. All she wants is financial and domestic independence, and to be able to have a room of her own. The novel closes with her taking a train back to her parents' because she is no longer able to afford rent.

This is an incredibly honest (loosely autobiographical perhaps?) story, and a reflection of Britain's reckoning with race, class and identity. I loved the premise and was really excited to read it, but I ultimately felt the execution landed a little soft. There were endless tangents and musings, but no real driver for the storyline.

Thank you @netgalley and @houghtonmifflinharcourt for the eARC.

#threerooms #johamya #netgalley #bookrecommendations #bookreviews #arc #readingwomen #bipocauthors #womeninliterature #bookish #bookworm #bookstagram #bookstagramuk #bookstagrammers #readersofinsta #igreads #readersofig #london #oxford

The unnamed main character has one goal: to live in an apartment that she can afford, by herself, where she can invite her friends over for drinks and food. However simple goal it may sound, reality proves her wrong. The main character talks about her jobs, people whose personalities only exist in Instagram and Twitter (and what this does to the people who feed from their hypocrisy), rent fees, Brexit, and what it means to be successful.

The writing is hands-down one of the most beautiful things I have ever encountered. I was in awe and enthralled in every page, but it was a "style over character" type of novel. I loved it and I connected with the character but, somehow, I guessed the ending and I found myself reading because of the writing rather than the meaning of the words. I'm looking forward reading more of Hamya - something with a plot or something that keeps me hooked, rather than a sort of bildungsroman comprised in meandering and introspective thoughts based on social media, appearances, and class. It was interesting, but I am not sure if I will think about it in the coming weeks, since it felt like reading thoughts I probably had at some point or another beautifully regurgitated and re-written by someone else.

“...When did it become ridiculous to think that a stable economy and a fair housing market were reasonable expectations?”

Three Rooms was mainly a book about millennial disillusionment and wealth/income inequality, which for me offered up a fair few striking insights, but unfortunately I feel like too much of the interest got muddied by the tedium of academia (the Oxford months) and the incessant Brexit ruminations. I enjoyed the descriptors employed in setting the scene for each of the housing situations our narrator finds herself in, although it would have been beneficial (in my opinion) for this to be expanded on even more. There were a few mentions of themes central to millennial life that did get me thinking: the “privilege Olympics,” the beguiling phenomenon that is social media lifestyle curation, “structural privilege,” and the emotionally exhausting effect of staying up to date with the online news reels. Overall I found the tone of this book to be very apathetic and whiny, which resulted in a story in which I forged no meaningful connections with any of its characters or settings. I think this book set out to do what it aimed, it just didn’t make for a memorable read.

I want to preface this by saying I don’t think this is a bad novel, it just was not my cup of tea, but I do think some people would really get on with it.

After seeing a few five-star reviews for this book, I am almost questioning my own experience of reading it, since at points it did feel like I was a bit too dumb to be reading it. Obviously not every book needs to be accessible to the masses, but I did feel that this didn’t sit well with the discussion of privilege which runs throughout the book. The myriad of literary references to things which I have never read or even heard of gave the main character an air of intellectual snobbery, something only exaggerated by the fact she goes from working at Oxford to working at a ‘society magazine’ within the space of a year, yet somehow we’re supposed to think she is the one who is hard done-by? This was frustrating, since I do think that the precarious lives lived by many millennials would make good fodder for a novel, but this wasn’t it.

Our nameless main character is kept just anonymous enough for me to feel absolutely no connection to her, whilst we constantly are on the receiving end of her whiny inner monologue and as a result (to me, anyway) she became irritating. I did relate to the exhaustion of trying to continue engaging with current affairs, and how absolutely depressing it can be. I felt that surface-level social media activism/engagement with issues could have been explored a bit more.

There were points where some good points were made about privilege, but generally I felt the character’s anonymity hindered this. Obviously it was done on purpose, we know that she is a person of colour but we don’t learn anything more than that, and unfortunately I think this means an interesting discussion of privilege and how different aspects of identity (namely race and class) intersect is left underdeveloped. I finished the book knowing that the main character harboured a heavy sense of guilt related to vague notions of her own privilege, but other than that I didn’t really know where she stood.

I did enjoy the prose at points, but every time I was getting into it there would be another obscure reference or verbose bit of writing and I would be dragged right out of the story again. Overall I wish I had been able to connect with this book more, but unfortunately it fell a bit short for me.

This is an emotional and honest book, first person perspective, focusing on the narrator’s search for a place to live, a room of her own, a home. It follows her from an Oxford flat, to a London couch rental, and the eventual grudging return to her parent’s home. Politics in the UK and the conflict over Brexit weave their way through the narrative, which also encompasses a broad social commentary on privilege, lifestyle, inequality, and generational differences.

The writing is rich and dense. The narrator gives us opinions but also doesn’t shy away from seeing some of her own shortcomings. Secondary characters populate the story but don’t take over the narrative—they provide insight and counterpoints to the narrator’s own viewpoint and opinions, at times in conflict and times subtly affecting those beliefs.

It is intellectually engaging, especially now, after Brexit has become reality and the last year has upended so many of the norms we are accustomed to.

I think this is a strong debut novel and I forward to reading more books in future by this author.

One thing I found tiresome, as far as style, was the lack of quotations marks to denote conversations. It made it confusing to parse who was speaking. I’ve seen this in a few books recently and I am not a fan. It did grate on me a fair bit by the end.

I don’t think this book would have been on my radar if I hadn’t stumbled on it at Netgalley and been intrigued by the premise. I’m glad I found it.

Thank you to NetGalley for providing a free ARC in exchange for an honest review.

In theory, Three Rooms should have been my kind of read. Like the novel's unnamed protagonist I have a useless degree in literature and I seem intent on pursuing a master's in an equally impractical subject. The way Jo Hamya writes about the academic world reminded me of how frustrating it is. Yet, whereas I appreciated the author's criticism of this world, I found her writing to be weighed down by literary and highbrow references that will be only accessible to readers moving in similarly rarefied circles (in other words, graduates, ideally, from elite universities).
The novel is very much style over character, something that may appeal to fans of Rachel Cusk, Deborah Levy, or Zadie Smith (which I happen not to be). The novel's nameless narrator is a twenty-something Oxford-graduate woman of color. Lacking a name, a personality, and an appearance our protagonist is a generic millennial. I had a hard time sympathizing with her given that she first works at Oxford University as a teaching assistant and once the school year is over she finds a temporary gig as a copyeditor for a high-society magazine. The only two characters who remind her that she is far more privileged than many other people her age are white and or middle-class women, and their comment is just meant to show how hypocritical they are.
The writing is dense. There are no equation marks (quelle surprise) and the paragraphs have few if any breaks. The conversations our narrator has with others punctuate her inner-monologue in an often unclear way (was someone saying that to her? Was she thinking it herself?). The specialized language and abundance of intellectual references and academic theories embedded in the narrative made reading this novel almost a chore. I doubt I would have finished it if it weren't for the fact that it was an advance copy from netgalley.
As I pointed out with Patricia Lockwood's No One Is Talking About This if you write too specifically about the internet, social media, apps, and the likes, much of what you write of will feel dated within a few months. Hamya's debut novel is set in 2018, so there were many sections in her story that felt like 'old news'. The protagonist allegedly cares a lot about politics, she is passionately against Brexit and Boris Johnson, and yet, she was also too 'busy' moving to vote. Really?
Once again millennials are being portrayed as all talk no action. They go on and on about social issue but they are often too self-involved to make an actual stand or difference when given an opportunity. Our narrator is too occupied overanalyzing everything around her. Her navel-gazing mostly consists of platitudes about social media and other topical subjects: how it is affecting our self-perception, the performance of authenticity and the self, the commodification of feminism...As with Rooney's not-so-normal main characters from NP, this protagonist is not like the people around her. There are a few instances in which she just happens to be the only 'voice of reason', while everyone is too busy following the herd. Yet, while she is quick to judge others for being snobs or privileged she is blind to her own fortunate circumstances. Yes, she has a brief stint sleeping on someone's couch but 1) she is not on the verge of homelessness or destitutions as her parents have told her that she can stay with them whenever 2) she has experience working as a research assistant at OXFORD and also as a copyeditor. Most of the people I know who like me have graduated in humanities now work minimum wage customer service jobs (often with 0 hours contracts). How could I believe that Hamya's protagonist was more 'woke' than others when she actually asks a cleaner "what's the plan after cleaning?".
In spite of the novel's premise and title the story takes place in 'two rooms'. We never learn much about our protagonist or her relationship to her parent(s)/hometown. The novel goes and on about Brexit, something I wish had never happened and certainly not something I would want to read extensively about.
Three Rooms gives novels like My Year of Rest and Relaxation a nod, but in a way that seemed to almost poking fun at this 'alienated women' trend....which—I'm not sure why—annoyed me. While reading about Hamya's narrator talking about Moshfegh’s novel I actually found myself wishing I was reading that instead. The unnamed protagonist here is not half as witty or cutting as Moshfegh's one.
Lastly, reading this novel just made me realize how much I hate the existence of elite universities.
Just because Hamya's novel 'rubbed' me the wrong way does not mean that you should not give it a try.

Jo Hamya's prose and storytelling has a Cuskian, essayistic energy. I adore Cusk, so that's fine by me. It has that same propulsion, powered by an undercurrent of deep, contained, ready-to-explode emotion (100% sure this description is an affront to the laws of physics). I liked how experimental it felt and the concentrated focus on the narrator's quest for somewhere to live — 'a room of her own', in Woolf's endlessly quoted words. It's a strange book in that the style feels a little different, but I felt the narrator's observations were less engaging or original than her style? And in the end, the observations do matter.

The narrator moves from Oxford, where she rents a room, to London where she works for a fancy magazine and rents a sofa, a confused trajectory but one that's pretty recognisable. You could be working somewhere great but it barely pays. Lifestyle benefits, but no actual lifestyle upgrade.

It didn't quite work for me, but I can imagine some people will love it. Hamya is clearly an ambitious writer with an interesting voice, and I will definitely read her next book.