Review of Boy Parts by Eliza Clark
When I first heard about Boy Parts by Eliza Clark, I was drawn in by its audacious premise: a female photographer with a twisted lens on masculinity and sexuality. It seemed like the perfect concoction of provocative satire and dark humor—a blend I relish. However, my excitement quickly soured, leaving me perplexed and pondering whether I had read the same book as everyone else who sang its praises.
At its core, Boy Parts aims to tackle themes of female sexuality, the male gaze, and the complexities of creative expression, all through the lens of Irina, an intentionally unlikable protagonist. Yet, the execution left much to be desired. While I often relish flawed characters—think of Emma Bovary or even Villanelle—I found Irina painfully dull and repetitively one-note. Her internal monologue felt like an insistent echo rather than an exploration, lacking the nuance or depth that could have redeemed her character. I appreciate satire as a tool for social commentary, but here it felt superficial and largely lacking in substance, as if the narrative was more interested in shocking readers than engaging them thoughtfully.
The writing style, while attempting to be edgy, often came across as dated and shallow, falling flat instead of intriguiting. For a book purportedly about a ‘pervy’ female photographer, there was a surprising lack of exploration into the art of photography itself. Instead, descriptions fizzled out, serving to highlight Irina’s misadventures rather than her creative process. A missed opportunity, considering how compelling it could have been to see her wrestle with the implications of her work.
What’s particularly disheartening is that some of the thematic threads—like exploring male objectification or the intricacies of female rage—felt muddled and poorly executed. The narrative threw in shocking scenes of sexual violence almost flippantly, instead of weaving them as potent commentary. It left me pondering the real motivations behind these choices. Were they meant to provoke thought or merely to elicit a gasp? In failing to create a relatable or intriguing character, the story became bogged down by shock value, ultimately missing the mark.
Despite my disappointment, Boy Parts isn’t without its moments. For those drawn to the edginess of its premise or who have enjoyed works like Bunny by Mona Awad, this book might satisfy a craving for irreverent satire. That said, if you thrive on depth and layered storytelling, or if you’re like me and prefer unlikable characters to be compellingly complex, you might find this book wanting.
In conclusion, while Boy Parts offers an audacious attempt at reshaping narratives around female empowerment and sexuality, it lacks the imaginative spark and depth I hoped for. It served as a reminder that not every provocative premise translates into an engaging read. If you’re intrigued by the concept, it’s certainly worth exploring, but don’t expect to walk away feeling inspired. For me, it was a reading experience that left me yearning for something richer—more substance alongside the style.