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Three Rooms
A piercing howl of a novel about one young woman’s endless quest for an apartment of her own and the aspirations and challenges faced by the Millennial generation as it finds its footing in the world, from a shockingly talented debut author.
“A woman must have money and a room of one’s own.” So said Virginia Woolf in her classic A Room of One’s Own, but in this scrupulously observed, gorgeously wrought debut novel, Jo Hamya pushes that adage powerfully into the twenty-first century, to a generation of people living in rented rooms. What a woman needs now is an apartment of her own, the ultimate mark of financial stability, unattainable for many.
Set in one year, Three Rooms follows a young woman as she moves from a rented room at Oxford, where she’s working as a research assistant; to a stranger’s sofa, all she can afford as a copyediting temp at a society magazine; to her childhood home, where she’s been forced to return, jobless, even a room of her own out of reach. As politics shift to nationalism, the streets fill with protestors, and news drip-feeds into her phone, she struggles to live a meaningful life on her own terms, unsure if she’ll ever be able to afford to do so.
“A woman must have money and a room of one’s own.” So said Virginia Woolf in her classic A Room of One’s Own, but in this scrupulously observed, gorgeously wrought debut novel, Jo Hamya pushes that adage powerfully into the twenty-first century, to a generation of people living in rented rooms. What a woman needs now is an apartment of her own, the ultimate mark of financial stability, unattainable for many.
Set in one year, Three Rooms follows a young woman as she moves from a rented room at Oxford, where she’s working as a research assistant; to a stranger’s sofa, all she can afford as a copyediting temp at a society magazine; to her childhood home, where she’s been forced to return, jobless, even a room of her own out of reach. As politics shift to nationalism, the streets fill with protestors, and news drip-feeds into her phone, she struggles to live a meaningful life on her own terms, unsure if she’ll ever be able to afford to do so.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published July 8, 2021
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April 3, 2021
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In theory, Three Rooms should have been my kind of read. Like the novel's unnamed protagonist I have auseless degree in literature and I seem intent on pursuing an MA 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 very well 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 quotation 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 issues and social justice 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. We also never learn much about her jobs. 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 reminded me of everything that is wrong with the academic world and it also 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, especially if you happen to like this brand of satire, which is both stylized and intellectual.
ARC provided by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
“I was no longer sure what I was allowed to want. Everything I had been raised to desire, had, at some point, become passé, but no one had told me. There was a chasm between my expectations and the reality I had to exist in which no one else seemed to grasp.”
In theory, Three Rooms should have been my kind of read. Like the novel's unnamed protagonist I have a
The novel is very much style over character, something that may very well 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 quotation 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 issues and social justice 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. We also never learn much about her jobs. 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 reminded me of everything that is wrong with the academic world and it also 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, especially if you happen to like this brand of satire, which is both stylized and intellectual.
ARC provided by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
July 28, 2023
Not for me, but I share AnnaLuce's views, her fab review here : here.
October 6, 2021
What had a rented room in Oxford and a sofa in London made me? Where had there been to make me? For all my plans, it seemed impossible I could achieve anything. There had been no place I could have dragged a sofa into, painted the walls whatever colour I wanted, stayed in long enough to find inviting colleagues over for dinner and drinks a worthwhile task. I had not found a job with which I could afford to put my life in one place, then nurture my relationship with family and friends. Yet somehow, I had spent the year keeping my possessions, temporarily, in what were ostensibly the highest echelons the country had to offer.
This relatively brief novel, described by the author as “about the danger of withholding capital, principally domestic and financial” is set in Oxford and London in a year starting in September 2018.
It is (like so many other novels these days it seems) narrated by an unnamed first person narrator. In this case the narrator is a young mixed-race woman.
We follow her in three separate sections – representing the three rooms of the title.
In the first she is a teaching assistant at Oxford University – staying in a (I think real life) house once occupied by the siblings Walter (an author) and Clara (a pioneer of Women’s education) Pater, but now broken into multiple rooms occupied by post docs and research assistants. There she mixes in rather elite circles and forms an obsession with a student, famous as the daughter of a pop star who wrote a best selling song about his wife leaving him (and named his daughter after the wife and song).
In the second, her teaching at an end, she gets an insecure position as an copy-editist at a society magazine in London, and hangs around Bloomsbury, while paying to sleep on the sofa of a dilapidated flat - her “landlord” being a bookseller and jewellery maker.
In the third and briefest section, having lost that position also and unable to live in London any longer, she visits a Turner exhibition at the Tate, then takes an Uber to Euston before the train journey to the country where she is reluctantly returning to her parents offer (one they have been baffled for some time she has not taken) of her old bedroom in the family house.
While all this is going on – the author, like many of her generation, feels increasingly alienated by the new country being assembled by the proceedings of another house – the House of Commons – following the, to her incomprehensible, Brexit vote two years previously.
She also spend time in another room – the room of the internet – as she follows the rise and fall of various (mainly of course Oxford educated) politicians.
Quickly, I realised the absurd wealth of the places I had been in over the past year: rooms in which such discussions could be played with in theory, without urgency, at any time, and then set aside to be taken up at a later date. The internet was one such room: a constant, useless distress in my pocket. I had resolved to stop looking at my phone if I could help it; to turn off my notifications and live less theoretically.
The irony of her position – and the oddness of the juxtaposition of her milieu and both her circumstances and political views - is spelled out by many of those around her
Don’t you think it’s weird that you spent a year giving yourself to the place that started the careers of people that openly disdain you, and now you’ve gone to work for a publication that exalts them?
But I was unclear where the reader’s sympathies are meant to lie
Many if not most of the seemingly valid criticisms seem to have their own “check your privilege” issues (typically those interlocutors are white and with some form of employment or property based security of the very type the narrator craves).
On the other hand the narrator herself seems unbelievably tone deaf in a conversation she has with cleaner “what’s the plan after cleaning” being an opening gambit.
At one stage the narrator discusses a certain type of novel written by women – in a passage which seems to refer to Moshfegh’s “A Year of Rest and Relaxation” and later to what is surely a nod to Cusk’s “Transit” (“A central character in one of the books equated the dishevelment of her inner life with the renovation of her house for 260 pages”) and the Uber ride in the final chapter reads very much like a Cusk-ian tale as the driver regales the narrator with the story of a row he had with his art-industry wife when he stated that the Twitter outrage over Tate paying more for a “head of coffee” than its exhibition curaters was actually misplaced as the coffee job had “more pride and practical use . than is any of the posturing and simpering and affectation he saw in the art world”. And I think the author can only be too aware that Cusk herself hardly suffers from a lack of a room - having recently sold her Norfolk retreat for over £2 million - so I think this inclusion is a commentary on generational differences in security which are key to the novel.
Of autofictional female novels the narrator remarks “The protagonist was inevitably compared to the author. This last thing was what made these books popular: it was revolutionary for a woman to spend 250 pages looking at herself in some way” – which is of course a challenge to us to do the same (or perhaps not do the same here).
But what is one meant to do – when the narrator (working at the society magazine) discusses jobs with her flatmate who works at a bookshop with an owner paid in the millions and living comfortably in a town house who implies his minimum paid workers should feel honoured to work in bookselling – and then one reads that the author has worked at Tatler magazine and Waterstones (now managed by James Daunt).
The book is explicitly influenced by (and takes an epigraph from) Virginia Woolf’s “Room of One’s Own”. Woolf of course famously said "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction" – a quote which, particularly as it was given at Cambridge University in 1928, could hardly be said to show much in the way of perspective or real understanding of poverty – and I was struggling with the same ideas in this book. Cambridge replaced by Oxford, and some form of requirement to be able to afford to live in London – by a narrator from elsewhere in England - as a basic human right. And a kind of class war theme that seems to pit the merely very privileged against the extremely privileged.
The Oxford section was by far the weakest for me – I felt like it needed both a knowledge of Oxford and its University traditions (one that did not even work for a Cambridge graduate) as well as some kind of sympathy for the characters portrayed. For the life of me I could also not work out what I was meant to make of the choice to name the pop star’s daughter (who reappears again in the second section) Ghislaine – with such obviously odd connotations given her developments as a socialite and daughter of a famous person. I paused the book a number of times before deciding to move ahead to the other sections.
More generally I often could not work out if the book was a satire of woke, generation-rent, zero-hours, gig-economy millennials, a defense of them or something in between. In some ways it feels like a novel about the new "working class" that represents Labour's core votes and their economic struggles and at the same time as a novel which encapsulates everything "red wall" voters fear about the party's direction.
Overall though I think this ambiguity - between literature and real life is really what this book is exploring. And perhaps having a book which is less didactic polemic than nuanced ambiguity is no bad thing.
So overall an interesting book but one with which I felt I lacked a full connection.
My thanks to Jonathan Cape, Penguin Random House for an ARC via NetGalley
May 1, 2021
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 — I felt the narrator's observations were less engaging or original than her style. And in the end, the observations do matter.
A nice line: 'Because of how consistently it rained, everything stayed green' sums up the conflicting emotions here. Never changing because you're stuck in the downpour. Green is good, until there's never any change or growth.
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. She's keenly aware that her generation have been screwed over by successive government and the generations before her, and the unspooling social commentary is intended to explain her choices (or lack of them). She is also honest about her own contradictions, but these come to her through her interactions with others.
The strangers that the narrator encounters in taxis or on trains etc enter into conversations with her about their lives and what she should do, but they lacked — I hate to make the comparison with Cusk, who is such an experienced writer, but I think that's what Hamya is going for - any real content or emotional charge. While the voice of the narrator was strong, she went in and out of focus whenever the writer wanted to bring in the big picture of Brexit and Grenfell or gentrification in London. I felt what she said wasn't revealing about the character and was unrevealing on a factual level.
Unlike Cusk's Faye, whose politics are a bit dodgy sometimes (see Transit and Sally Rooney's interesting essay in Slate), the narrator is very aware of inequality and unfairness, and perhaps doesn't use self-criticism or self-awareness as a shield. Sometimes this gets a bit repetitive: 'How possible was it to stay wilfully attuned without living in permanent fear or guilt?' she thinks as she looks at her mobile phone and remembers how it is made.
These elements weren't weaved into the story enough and I didn't see how they *specifically* affected the narrator — in that anyone living in a city is affected by them, or aware of them. The observations needed to be more idiosyncratic — paradoxically this may have been hampered by the 'outline-ish' nature of the narrator.
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.
A nice line: 'Because of how consistently it rained, everything stayed green' sums up the conflicting emotions here. Never changing because you're stuck in the downpour. Green is good, until there's never any change or growth.
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. She's keenly aware that her generation have been screwed over by successive government and the generations before her, and the unspooling social commentary is intended to explain her choices (or lack of them). She is also honest about her own contradictions, but these come to her through her interactions with others.
The strangers that the narrator encounters in taxis or on trains etc enter into conversations with her about their lives and what she should do, but they lacked — I hate to make the comparison with Cusk, who is such an experienced writer, but I think that's what Hamya is going for - any real content or emotional charge. While the voice of the narrator was strong, she went in and out of focus whenever the writer wanted to bring in the big picture of Brexit and Grenfell or gentrification in London. I felt what she said wasn't revealing about the character and was unrevealing on a factual level.
Unlike Cusk's Faye, whose politics are a bit dodgy sometimes (see Transit and Sally Rooney's interesting essay in Slate), the narrator is very aware of inequality and unfairness, and perhaps doesn't use self-criticism or self-awareness as a shield. Sometimes this gets a bit repetitive: 'How possible was it to stay wilfully attuned without living in permanent fear or guilt?' she thinks as she looks at her mobile phone and remembers how it is made.
These elements weren't weaved into the story enough and I didn't see how they *specifically* affected the narrator — in that anyone living in a city is affected by them, or aware of them. The observations needed to be more idiosyncratic — paradoxically this may have been hampered by the 'outline-ish' nature of the narrator.
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.
February 17, 2022
Oof. This little book seemed to last eons, and it took me forever to read. I don’t think I can remember every single reason I disliked it. I was hopeful that this would be good because I loved the way she wrote certain details…at first. And then the whole novel became these elaborate descriptions and long paragraphs about spaces (which I probably should’ve expected from a novel with the word “rooms” in the title). And the dialogue was incorporated into these long paragraphs with no sort of format to indicate someone was speaking aloud. The narrator is also formless, which I think was intentional to indicate her own struggle with identity and place. However, it was executed in such a way that I felt drained as if I had sat at a party and listened to someone ramble on for hours who lacks any self-awareness.
I gave it two stars instead of one because I appreciated some of the social commentary, particularly about social media, class, and feminism, but all of the Brexit discussions were lost on me (which is my own fault). I also enjoyed how precise some of her descriptions were.
Overall, it was an exhausting read and definitely launched me into a reading slump.
I gave it two stars instead of one because I appreciated some of the social commentary, particularly about social media, class, and feminism, but all of the Brexit discussions were lost on me (which is my own fault). I also enjoyed how precise some of her descriptions were.
Overall, it was an exhausting read and definitely launched me into a reading slump.
August 23, 2021
Please note that I received this via NetGalley. This did not affect my rating or review.
This was interesting. The author (Hamya) took a spin at Virginia Wolff's and her essay titled "A Room of One's Own." Funnily enough I thought this would resonate with me. I grew up in a packed house with no privacy and had to share a room until I was a pre-teen. And even then, my brothers would kick my door in since my room led upstairs to their bedrooms in the so called attic (it really wasn't an attic. They had huge rooms upstairs (4 of them) our house was a duplex that my parents tore the walls down in between) so I never really had privacy. And then I had a roommate in graduate school and only really had a place of my own when I moved to the DC area. Now I very much need a room or rooms of my own that include lots of books and a garden. That said, this book dragged a lot. The narrator was nameless (which irked me) and the book just follows the narrator through 3 separate rooms during the course of her life from 2018 through present day times which is how we get "Three Rooms" of the title.
Pros: I honestly liked the plot. It made me rethink all of the rooms that I grew up in and lived in that shaped me. I liked following the narrator through her various jobs and the rooms she had to deal with. And you can see how hopeful she was in the beginning and beaten down by the end. You also get a lot of commentary of Brexit in this one as well. We also get into race and class as well.
Cons: The book just drags here and there and it took a while to hold my interest. I was left confused by some of the passages and wondered what emotion was I supposed to be left with as I finished reading. I think that this was really just a semi-autobiography of Hamya's experience so I don't know why she didn't just write this as a non-fiction piece.
This was interesting. The author (Hamya) took a spin at Virginia Wolff's and her essay titled "A Room of One's Own." Funnily enough I thought this would resonate with me. I grew up in a packed house with no privacy and had to share a room until I was a pre-teen. And even then, my brothers would kick my door in since my room led upstairs to their bedrooms in the so called attic (it really wasn't an attic. They had huge rooms upstairs (4 of them) our house was a duplex that my parents tore the walls down in between) so I never really had privacy. And then I had a roommate in graduate school and only really had a place of my own when I moved to the DC area. Now I very much need a room or rooms of my own that include lots of books and a garden. That said, this book dragged a lot. The narrator was nameless (which irked me) and the book just follows the narrator through 3 separate rooms during the course of her life from 2018 through present day times which is how we get "Three Rooms" of the title.
Pros: I honestly liked the plot. It made me rethink all of the rooms that I grew up in and lived in that shaped me. I liked following the narrator through her various jobs and the rooms she had to deal with. And you can see how hopeful she was in the beginning and beaten down by the end. You also get a lot of commentary of Brexit in this one as well. We also get into race and class as well.
Cons: The book just drags here and there and it took a while to hold my interest. I was left confused by some of the passages and wondered what emotion was I supposed to be left with as I finished reading. I think that this was really just a semi-autobiography of Hamya's experience so I don't know why she didn't just write this as a non-fiction piece.
September 18, 2021
“A woman must have money and a room of her own” - Virginia Woolf
I am a lifelong fan of Virginia Woolf so any book based on any of her ideas is an automatic read for me.
This book centers around an unnamed young woman. The story which is told in the first person by this young woman follows her around for one year as she searches for a place of her own in London, England. She journeys from several locations all the while searching for a meaningful existence and wondering if she will ever be financially able to afford life on her own terms.
This book is a love letter to the unsettled millennial. This book and the main character's struggles reminded me so much of my early and mid 20’s. At 197 pages this makes for a faster read. I will have to say that this is an impressive debut novel for Jo Hamya as she makes several interesting and relatable points in this book. There are several sub-themes of UK politics(Brexit era), race, gender, and class.
Overall I did enjoy Jo Hanya’s debut novel and I look forward to seeing what she comes out with next! Many thanks to Mariner Books for the gifted copy.
I am a lifelong fan of Virginia Woolf so any book based on any of her ideas is an automatic read for me.
This book centers around an unnamed young woman. The story which is told in the first person by this young woman follows her around for one year as she searches for a place of her own in London, England. She journeys from several locations all the while searching for a meaningful existence and wondering if she will ever be financially able to afford life on her own terms.
This book is a love letter to the unsettled millennial. This book and the main character's struggles reminded me so much of my early and mid 20’s. At 197 pages this makes for a faster read. I will have to say that this is an impressive debut novel for Jo Hamya as she makes several interesting and relatable points in this book. There are several sub-themes of UK politics(Brexit era), race, gender, and class.
Overall I did enjoy Jo Hanya’s debut novel and I look forward to seeing what she comes out with next! Many thanks to Mariner Books for the gifted copy.
November 27, 2024
This was my favourite read of 2020, and the best debut I've read in a few years.
The prose was faultless. I honestly was blown away by pretty much nearly every page. I really do believe that that the author will be a major literary voice – Literary with a capital L. One of THREE ROOMS key strengths – in sharp contrast, in my opinion, to Hamya's contemporaries - is that the narrator continually allows for other perspectives as a corrective to her own outlook. For such a young author, this was really refreshing.
One thing I find a bit grating in much of the work by Hamya's peers is that their novels have Marxist ambitions but these are only depicted via conversations that take place within really elite spheres (eg top universities or the houses of the wealthy creative class). There’s plenty of intellectual engagement but very little action. It’s as if acknowledging privileges and the evils of late capitalism were the end goal, making it a question of personal morality rather than pushing for more equitable structures.
The narrator of THREE ROOMS doesn’t expend the same energy on self-satisfyingly espousing Marxist beliefs while refraining from doing anything about it. She wasn’t really begging for likeability or absolution: she was simply frustrated with the bleak outlook for home ownership, and is always careful to counter this with insights from other characters from different backgrounds, or a different generation. Also - depiction of digital space was so well-executed!
THREE ROOMS for me recalled Rachel Cusk’s OUTLINE trilogy - it struck me as being indebted to those three books in terms of its stylistic ambitions; namely the ways conversations are relayed through a rather reticent narrator. Fans of Cusk's work should mark this as a high priority read when it comes out in June
The prose was faultless. I honestly was blown away by pretty much nearly every page. I really do believe that that the author will be a major literary voice – Literary with a capital L. One of THREE ROOMS key strengths – in sharp contrast, in my opinion, to Hamya's contemporaries - is that the narrator continually allows for other perspectives as a corrective to her own outlook. For such a young author, this was really refreshing.
One thing I find a bit grating in much of the work by Hamya's peers is that their novels have Marxist ambitions but these are only depicted via conversations that take place within really elite spheres (eg top universities or the houses of the wealthy creative class). There’s plenty of intellectual engagement but very little action. It’s as if acknowledging privileges and the evils of late capitalism were the end goal, making it a question of personal morality rather than pushing for more equitable structures.
The narrator of THREE ROOMS doesn’t expend the same energy on self-satisfyingly espousing Marxist beliefs while refraining from doing anything about it. She wasn’t really begging for likeability or absolution: she was simply frustrated with the bleak outlook for home ownership, and is always careful to counter this with insights from other characters from different backgrounds, or a different generation. Also - depiction of digital space was so well-executed!
THREE ROOMS for me recalled Rachel Cusk’s OUTLINE trilogy - it struck me as being indebted to those three books in terms of its stylistic ambitions; namely the ways conversations are relayed through a rather reticent narrator. Fans of Cusk's work should mark this as a high priority read when it comes out in June
June 21, 2021
3,5
Well written short novel about life for a young person in 21st-century England, Once finishing university, it's almost impossible to find a permanent job, and then one that pays well enough to get a place of your own so you can stop sleeping on someone else's sofa. It's about a sense of self, home and belonging, about Brexit and politics, the Grenfell tower fire, race, class, and so much more. I have to admit that he first part did not always hold my attention, but a very impressive debut nonetheless.
Thank you Jonathan Cape and Netgalley for the ARC.
Well written short novel about life for a young person in 21st-century England, Once finishing university, it's almost impossible to find a permanent job, and then one that pays well enough to get a place of your own so you can stop sleeping on someone else's sofa. It's about a sense of self, home and belonging, about Brexit and politics, the Grenfell tower fire, race, class, and so much more. I have to admit that he first part did not always hold my attention, but a very impressive debut nonetheless.
Thank you Jonathan Cape and Netgalley for the ARC.
April 10, 2021
Three Rooms is a novel about a young woman looking for stability in 21st century life as she drifts through a transitory year. In autumn 2018 an unnamed narrator moves into a rented room in a shared university house in Oxford, ready to take up a temporary research assistant position, but she spends most of her time scrolling Twitter and watching one of the only people she's met do things on Instagram. When the contract ends, she finds herself in London, living on someone's sofa and doing another temporary job at a society magazine. Once again, she feels disconnected, and as politics rolls on in the background, she considers what she can do next.
Told in the first person in a literary style with very few named characters, Three Rooms is the sort of book some people will love and others not get along with. I enjoyed it, with its clever look at privilege, class, and race, and the complications of these as the narrator takes up temporary jobs doing things from a rarified world, straddling the line between having no money and still having the ability to get a temp job at a posh magazine. I also liked the engagement with books, from the stuff about Walter Pater and Instagram to a glib commentary on modern novels which feels like it's pointing out this book could be classed as another of them.
As it's set at a very specific time and has a lot of politics and current events run through it, at times you do feel like there's a bit too much Brexit going on, but that is also important to the general look at the Oxford and London worlds that provide the backdrop for a lot of the people ruling those decisions. As a fleeting first person novel, there aren't really answers to the issues raised, but more a look at a version of millennial existence.
I have lived in both the locations in the novel in vaguely similar circumstances, which made me drawn into the character and narrative perhaps more than I might've been, and there are a lot of little details that bring these locations and the protagonist's existence to life. Three Rooms presents a clash not only between sides in political issues, but also between ways in which someone can be privileged and not, and between real life and the internet.
Told in the first person in a literary style with very few named characters, Three Rooms is the sort of book some people will love and others not get along with. I enjoyed it, with its clever look at privilege, class, and race, and the complications of these as the narrator takes up temporary jobs doing things from a rarified world, straddling the line between having no money and still having the ability to get a temp job at a posh magazine. I also liked the engagement with books, from the stuff about Walter Pater and Instagram to a glib commentary on modern novels which feels like it's pointing out this book could be classed as another of them.
As it's set at a very specific time and has a lot of politics and current events run through it, at times you do feel like there's a bit too much Brexit going on, but that is also important to the general look at the Oxford and London worlds that provide the backdrop for a lot of the people ruling those decisions. As a fleeting first person novel, there aren't really answers to the issues raised, but more a look at a version of millennial existence.
I have lived in both the locations in the novel in vaguely similar circumstances, which made me drawn into the character and narrative perhaps more than I might've been, and there are a lot of little details that bring these locations and the protagonist's existence to life. Three Rooms presents a clash not only between sides in political issues, but also between ways in which someone can be privileged and not, and between real life and the internet.
April 19, 2023
Inspired by Virginia Woolf and written in the spirit of Rachel Cusk, Jo Hamya’s Three Rooms seeks out the true cost of living for a twenty-something graduate in twenty-first century England. Set in 2018, the novel follows its unnamed protagonist – a “brown and bourgeois” woman armed with a proper education – through a year of uncomfortable transitions as part of the young and harassed precariat class forced to straddle the veritable hellscape that stretches out before it with threateningly unaffordable rental prices, a shrinking and increasingly insecure job market, and an overall sense of socio-economic destabilisation of a nation stopped in its tracks by the imminence of Brexit.
We first meet our protagonist as she is moving her possessions into the furnished room allotted to her at an accommodation for post-docs and research assistants in a prestigious university town. Having thus far gotten by on patchy freelance assignments and the occasional help from her parents, she is determined to strike it out by herself and work her way into finding a room of her own, one where she can feel at home and at ease. However, in traversing the increasingly unstable ground of her new life – first as a contract research assistant at Oxford and then as a temp copy editor for a society magazine in London who spends most of her wages renting a peer’s living room sofa for £80 a week – she becomes increasingly overwhelmed by the bleakness of her actual prospects and is alienated by the shifting mores that have transformed the meagre ambitions of her generational milieu – of stability, independence, and the ability to afford their own lives – into a pipe dream.
As the narrator becomes increasingly sharpened to how she – and those she encounters, observes, and converses with – are being forced into a series of movements that are not onwards but from precarity to precarity, the feeling of being ill at ease accumulates over every surface that she does not feel a sense of ownership over: unbelonging and inequality rise to the foreground in every setting she attempts to analyse, and she is unable to comfortably fit her authentic self into any of the spaces ostensibly opened to her by her education – not the physical rooms that she is forced to accept, not the circles of upper-echelon Oxfordians and elite magazine staff that deign to accept her, nor that third room of the internet, which aggravates and regurgitates the fragility of the world back to her, strengthening and loosening her convictions in equal measure. What such conditions lead to, in life and in the novel, is something we must ourselves behold – and very, very carefully.
To me, this book is an interesting study of those who increasingly find themselves occupying a space between abjection and affluence, where the conditions of material deprivation (precarious housing, but not homelessness – at least not yet) and access to some rarefied opportunities (such as a research position at Oxford or a gig at an influential magazine) can and do coexist. In other words, Three Rooms does a good job of capturing the stagnancy and frustration of the relatively privileged, and of critiquing a society hinged on having and being had from that perspective. The protagonist’s struggle here is not exactly make-or-break; she is not entirely out of options or completely bereft of any safety nets: part of the tension here comes from the fact that she does have the option of moving back in with her parents – and eventually has to resort to it – but is for the most part unwilling to do so, to “give up” without a legitimate fight. Is it self-indulgent of her to crib about her predicament? Almost certainly, but it is done consciously and with utter self-awareness.
In fact, though inspired by Woolf and Cusk, the protagonist of Hamya’s novel also poses a corrective to their styles: recognising the evils of late capitalism is seemingly not the end-all of her game, neither is the narrator merely engaging with Marxist dialogue or trying it on for self-satisfaction or absolution. Though Three Rooms is also a thinly-veiled autofictional novel where a woman spends “250 pages looking at herself in some way,” it aims more at airing out the author-protagonist’s frustrations than constructing a pillar of personal morality sans praxis (I am here directly attempting to snub Salley Rooney, particularly with her latest book Beautiful World, Where Are You, and it is of course worth keeping in mind that neither Woolf nor Cusk personally suffered from the lack of rooms of their own). Unlike her influences and her contemporaries, Hamya here makes a point to insert her protagonist in true proximity of being wronged (being forced to rent and be a cog in the machinations of the gig economy is not poverty, but then it does not claim to be, either) and to further counter her ideas with real, substantive insights from people of different backgrounds, who often challenge, chastise, and disagree with her, and call her out on her own blind spots – including the fact that she can be all talk, that she critiques injustice without lifting a finger towards the effort to correct it.
Further: the immediate political setting of the book – Brexit looming, Boris Johnson being elected – is an important running thread in this book that I haven’t yet commented on. It both constructs the environment in which the protagonist experiences what she does – and indeed, constructs her experiences – but also frames the readers’ experience of the novel and adds to its vertiginous urgency. In this, I found it rather similar to Olivia Laing’s Crudo, which did similar things but with Donald Trump’s election in the states (Laing is certainly an influence, if not directly; Hamya’s post-graduate research happened to extensively engage with her work). Equally important as a framing device is the protagonist’s immersion in the digital world – her inability to tear away is strongly reminiscent of Patricia Lockwood’s No One Is Talking About This, and her quiet anger and passive obsession with the proto-influencer Ghislaine seems a nascent version of that seen in Sheena Patel’s 2022 novel I’m A Fan
Overall, Three Rooms is an intelligent, unsettling book that bears witness to the barbs of our indifferent world, and a hard one not to recommend as a member of the so-called 'generation rent'. A significant achievement, especially for a debut, and makes me eager to see what Hamya does next.
We first meet our protagonist as she is moving her possessions into the furnished room allotted to her at an accommodation for post-docs and research assistants in a prestigious university town. Having thus far gotten by on patchy freelance assignments and the occasional help from her parents, she is determined to strike it out by herself and work her way into finding a room of her own, one where she can feel at home and at ease. However, in traversing the increasingly unstable ground of her new life – first as a contract research assistant at Oxford and then as a temp copy editor for a society magazine in London who spends most of her wages renting a peer’s living room sofa for £80 a week – she becomes increasingly overwhelmed by the bleakness of her actual prospects and is alienated by the shifting mores that have transformed the meagre ambitions of her generational milieu – of stability, independence, and the ability to afford their own lives – into a pipe dream.
As the narrator becomes increasingly sharpened to how she – and those she encounters, observes, and converses with – are being forced into a series of movements that are not onwards but from precarity to precarity, the feeling of being ill at ease accumulates over every surface that she does not feel a sense of ownership over: unbelonging and inequality rise to the foreground in every setting she attempts to analyse, and she is unable to comfortably fit her authentic self into any of the spaces ostensibly opened to her by her education – not the physical rooms that she is forced to accept, not the circles of upper-echelon Oxfordians and elite magazine staff that deign to accept her, nor that third room of the internet, which aggravates and regurgitates the fragility of the world back to her, strengthening and loosening her convictions in equal measure. What such conditions lead to, in life and in the novel, is something we must ourselves behold – and very, very carefully.
To me, this book is an interesting study of those who increasingly find themselves occupying a space between abjection and affluence, where the conditions of material deprivation (precarious housing, but not homelessness – at least not yet) and access to some rarefied opportunities (such as a research position at Oxford or a gig at an influential magazine) can and do coexist. In other words, Three Rooms does a good job of capturing the stagnancy and frustration of the relatively privileged, and of critiquing a society hinged on having and being had from that perspective. The protagonist’s struggle here is not exactly make-or-break; she is not entirely out of options or completely bereft of any safety nets: part of the tension here comes from the fact that she does have the option of moving back in with her parents – and eventually has to resort to it – but is for the most part unwilling to do so, to “give up” without a legitimate fight. Is it self-indulgent of her to crib about her predicament? Almost certainly, but it is done consciously and with utter self-awareness.
In fact, though inspired by Woolf and Cusk, the protagonist of Hamya’s novel also poses a corrective to their styles: recognising the evils of late capitalism is seemingly not the end-all of her game, neither is the narrator merely engaging with Marxist dialogue or trying it on for self-satisfaction or absolution. Though Three Rooms is also a thinly-veiled autofictional novel where a woman spends “250 pages looking at herself in some way,” it aims more at airing out the author-protagonist’s frustrations than constructing a pillar of personal morality sans praxis (I am here directly attempting to snub Salley Rooney, particularly with her latest book Beautiful World, Where Are You, and it is of course worth keeping in mind that neither Woolf nor Cusk personally suffered from the lack of rooms of their own). Unlike her influences and her contemporaries, Hamya here makes a point to insert her protagonist in true proximity of being wronged (being forced to rent and be a cog in the machinations of the gig economy is not poverty, but then it does not claim to be, either) and to further counter her ideas with real, substantive insights from people of different backgrounds, who often challenge, chastise, and disagree with her, and call her out on her own blind spots – including the fact that she can be all talk, that she critiques injustice without lifting a finger towards the effort to correct it.
Further: the immediate political setting of the book – Brexit looming, Boris Johnson being elected – is an important running thread in this book that I haven’t yet commented on. It both constructs the environment in which the protagonist experiences what she does – and indeed, constructs her experiences – but also frames the readers’ experience of the novel and adds to its vertiginous urgency. In this, I found it rather similar to Olivia Laing’s Crudo, which did similar things but with Donald Trump’s election in the states (Laing is certainly an influence, if not directly; Hamya’s post-graduate research happened to extensively engage with her work). Equally important as a framing device is the protagonist’s immersion in the digital world – her inability to tear away is strongly reminiscent of Patricia Lockwood’s No One Is Talking About This, and her quiet anger and passive obsession with the proto-influencer Ghislaine seems a nascent version of that seen in Sheena Patel’s 2022 novel I’m A Fan
Overall, Three Rooms is an intelligent, unsettling book that bears witness to the barbs of our indifferent world, and a hard one not to recommend as a member of the so-called 'generation rent'. A significant achievement, especially for a debut, and makes me eager to see what Hamya does next.
January 9, 2022
this is a well written portrait of what it was like to be a person on twitter in 2017, and it’ll be a useful snapshot of this time in the future. that being said, i feel like i just lived that, and didn’t get much out of this
March 22, 2023
This woman hears the word brexit once and then proceeds to mention it on every single page 25 times. Boring book boring character boring story took me almost a month to read not even 200 pages bcos boring. Hate this stupid book.
August 6, 2021
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Actual Rating: 2.75
When I read the synopsis of this book, I thought it would be right up my alley. Lately, I've been drawn to books with narrators who are at a pivotal point in their lives, trying to make it in a world that has steadily been making it harder to do so. The unnamed narrator of Three Rooms is struggling to find her place in the world. She's been educated at a fine university, and she has a job as a research assistant in the English department at Oxford University. She has dreams of having a place and room of her own, but despite her prestigious degree, she's been unable to realize that dream. She looks around at her peers and feels like she's behind, that she has not been afforded the same privileges as other people her age. While this all seems highly relatable to many millennials, there was a lot left to be desired from Hamya's novel.
One of the most glaring things that hindered my enjoyment of this book was the main character herself. She is supposedly down bad and broke, but she's had so many opportunities that plenty of people would kill for. She's an assistant researcher (albeit temporarily) at Oxford for Christ's sake! She is able to live quite cheaply in university housing, complete with a maid. She spends most of her time lamenting Brexit and feeling like she's not making much progress in her life, which is understandable, but she doesn't really take advantage of what's in front of her. She's privy to the upper echelons of UK academia, but she doesn't take advantage of that fact. At the very first event of the school year, she doesn't even try to network at the faculty and student party then complains for the rest of the semester about how she hasn't met anyone or doesn't have any connections! She would feel offended when her housemate would tell her about how she comes off to other people, but she didn't really do anything to combat that. She envied the things that she resented her colleagues for having easy access to, which is valid, but she also benefitted from them despite her insistence that she was down and out.
I also did not enjoy the heavy use of social media in this book. A few mentions of it to make a point about reality vs perception among other things is okay, but to include it ad nauseum was a little bit much. It did firmly cement the story in the present day, but I feel like at times it was excessive.
Overall I liked the examination of millennial success and lack thereof, but the execution was way more pretentious than it needed to be.
**eARC provided by the publisher, Mariner Books, via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review**
Actual Rating: 2.75
When I read the synopsis of this book, I thought it would be right up my alley. Lately, I've been drawn to books with narrators who are at a pivotal point in their lives, trying to make it in a world that has steadily been making it harder to do so. The unnamed narrator of Three Rooms is struggling to find her place in the world. She's been educated at a fine university, and she has a job as a research assistant in the English department at Oxford University. She has dreams of having a place and room of her own, but despite her prestigious degree, she's been unable to realize that dream. She looks around at her peers and feels like she's behind, that she has not been afforded the same privileges as other people her age. While this all seems highly relatable to many millennials, there was a lot left to be desired from Hamya's novel.
One of the most glaring things that hindered my enjoyment of this book was the main character herself. She is supposedly down bad and broke, but she's had so many opportunities that plenty of people would kill for. She's an assistant researcher (albeit temporarily) at Oxford for Christ's sake! She is able to live quite cheaply in university housing, complete with a maid. She spends most of her time lamenting Brexit and feeling like she's not making much progress in her life, which is understandable, but she doesn't really take advantage of what's in front of her. She's privy to the upper echelons of UK academia, but she doesn't take advantage of that fact. At the very first event of the school year, she doesn't even try to network at the faculty and student party then complains for the rest of the semester about how she hasn't met anyone or doesn't have any connections! She would feel offended when her housemate would tell her about how she comes off to other people, but she didn't really do anything to combat that. She envied the things that she resented her colleagues for having easy access to, which is valid, but she also benefitted from them despite her insistence that she was down and out.
I also did not enjoy the heavy use of social media in this book. A few mentions of it to make a point about reality vs perception among other things is okay, but to include it ad nauseum was a little bit much. It did firmly cement the story in the present day, but I feel like at times it was excessive.
Overall I liked the examination of millennial success and lack thereof, but the execution was way more pretentious than it needed to be.
**eARC provided by the publisher, Mariner Books, via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review**
July 6, 2021
An ode to the displaced millennial, Three Rooms is a triumph in embodying the uncertainty and state of limbo faced by many young adults as they leave academia, and attempt to build a career in a frosty economy and an overall visibly split political landscape.
Set in the wake of the EU referendum and the looming promise of Brexit, Jo Hamya expertly navigates themes of identity, class, and race, with the concept of home at the helm in this nuanced, stunningly lyrical novella.
Three Rooms follows our unnamed narrator across three locations: Oxford, London, and rural England. She starts out in a position as a researcher assistant at Oxford. Here we see her lost in a constant analysis of her houseshare and its other habitants, as well as the history of the building and her distant feelings as a mere temporary squatter. This, juxtaposed as she walks through Oxford, taking in the history of the institution and the politicians in which it rears begins a cutting analysis of the social hierarchy in the UK.
She moves on to work at a luxury society magazine in London as a copy editor, paying £80 a week to sleep on a friend’s sofa. As Boris Johnson is voted in to take over the Conservative Party and lead the UK’s EU-exit plan, our narrator is sucked into the vortex of social media discourse, and the internal battle to make an opinion not pinched from angry tweets and persuasive news articles.
Ultimately, she finds herself relenting against the ceaseless take, take, take and gives in to her mother and the prospect of two hour commutes to and from the city.
There is so much in Three Rooms that feels relatable. The struggle to form an opinion in the age of social media where one ingests thousands daily. The lack of roots, both literally and metaphorically as it becomes ever more difficult to get on the property ladder; to find a job that doesn’t undervalue and underpay graduates and young adults.
Three Rooms is smart and hypercritical, and Jo Hamya’s writing is sharp - intimidatingly so.
Set in the wake of the EU referendum and the looming promise of Brexit, Jo Hamya expertly navigates themes of identity, class, and race, with the concept of home at the helm in this nuanced, stunningly lyrical novella.
Three Rooms follows our unnamed narrator across three locations: Oxford, London, and rural England. She starts out in a position as a researcher assistant at Oxford. Here we see her lost in a constant analysis of her houseshare and its other habitants, as well as the history of the building and her distant feelings as a mere temporary squatter. This, juxtaposed as she walks through Oxford, taking in the history of the institution and the politicians in which it rears begins a cutting analysis of the social hierarchy in the UK.
She moves on to work at a luxury society magazine in London as a copy editor, paying £80 a week to sleep on a friend’s sofa. As Boris Johnson is voted in to take over the Conservative Party and lead the UK’s EU-exit plan, our narrator is sucked into the vortex of social media discourse, and the internal battle to make an opinion not pinched from angry tweets and persuasive news articles.
Ultimately, she finds herself relenting against the ceaseless take, take, take and gives in to her mother and the prospect of two hour commutes to and from the city.
There is so much in Three Rooms that feels relatable. The struggle to form an opinion in the age of social media where one ingests thousands daily. The lack of roots, both literally and metaphorically as it becomes ever more difficult to get on the property ladder; to find a job that doesn’t undervalue and underpay graduates and young adults.
Three Rooms is smart and hypercritical, and Jo Hamya’s writing is sharp - intimidatingly so.
August 28, 2021
Somewhere between 3 - 3.5 rounded down
Jo Hamya's debut is a slim and slippery novel, hard to describe and define. We meet the unnamed when she is teaching at Oxford University and living in a small room in a shared house, later following her to an unstable copy editing position at a glossy magazine in London where she sleeps on another young woman's sofa. Finally she takes in an exhibition at the Tate before moving back in with her parents. These make up the 'three rooms' of the novel, which seems to have taken some inspiration from Woolf's A Room of One's Own.
This is another book which falls into the Brexit era of British fiction, featuring a protagonist struggling with many issues which face her fellow millennials: an unstable job and property market and a 'useless' degree amid a tumultuous economy and political climate. I found the unnamed protagonist and her internal thoughts to be wholly relatable and realistic, but have to admit to finding the middle section (on the second room) a bit frustrating. That said, I'd be interested to see what Hamya writes next and will likely pick up her next novel.
Thank you Netgalley and Mariner Books for the advance copy, which was provided in exchange for an honest review.
Jo Hamya's debut is a slim and slippery novel, hard to describe and define. We meet the unnamed when she is teaching at Oxford University and living in a small room in a shared house, later following her to an unstable copy editing position at a glossy magazine in London where she sleeps on another young woman's sofa. Finally she takes in an exhibition at the Tate before moving back in with her parents. These make up the 'three rooms' of the novel, which seems to have taken some inspiration from Woolf's A Room of One's Own.
This is another book which falls into the Brexit era of British fiction, featuring a protagonist struggling with many issues which face her fellow millennials: an unstable job and property market and a 'useless' degree amid a tumultuous economy and political climate. I found the unnamed protagonist and her internal thoughts to be wholly relatable and realistic, but have to admit to finding the middle section (on the second room) a bit frustrating. That said, I'd be interested to see what Hamya writes next and will likely pick up her next novel.
Thank you Netgalley and Mariner Books for the advance copy, which was provided in exchange for an honest review.
May 31, 2021
Three Rooms - written by Jo Hamya, who is the same age as me (?!) such an incredible writer - pure talent, I can’t get over the beauty of this writing.
Three Rooms is a novel, under 200 pages, set in 2018 in the midst of Brexit and is set around a young woman who is looking for a bit of normality in a busy, expensive, and rather chaotic period in her life. We never learn the name of the woman, which I rather liked, but we do learn a lot about where she lives, and what she does. Her obsession with Twitter scrolling and Instagram stalking are close to home - she feels disconnected from ‘real life. The world is busy, politics and current affairs are all around her and she’s just floating through life, is she happy, does she like her life, where she lives, the people around her?
A really beautifully written piece of literary fiction, a severe lack of speech marks is something I usually am not a fan of, but it really worked in this book and I enjoyed the conversations taking place between our unnamed characters, such as ‘neighbour’. Three Rooms provided an insightful view into class, race, privilege, the lack of a full-time permanent job or career.
Three Rooms really conveys how much Brexit really dragged on, and how much of a big thing it is in our lives and country. I found it really clever how Brexit was discussed in Oxford University, and in London and different people’s perspectives on it.
Three Rooms is a beautiful novel that observes the current life hurdles, costs of living, holding down a job, not having a permanent job, and being in your 20’s in England, today. The story is a search for a place to live, a home, somewhere to make your own, and really be yourself, and find yourself. I can’t recommend it enough, I loved this story.
Three Rooms is a novel, under 200 pages, set in 2018 in the midst of Brexit and is set around a young woman who is looking for a bit of normality in a busy, expensive, and rather chaotic period in her life. We never learn the name of the woman, which I rather liked, but we do learn a lot about where she lives, and what she does. Her obsession with Twitter scrolling and Instagram stalking are close to home - she feels disconnected from ‘real life. The world is busy, politics and current affairs are all around her and she’s just floating through life, is she happy, does she like her life, where she lives, the people around her?
A really beautifully written piece of literary fiction, a severe lack of speech marks is something I usually am not a fan of, but it really worked in this book and I enjoyed the conversations taking place between our unnamed characters, such as ‘neighbour’. Three Rooms provided an insightful view into class, race, privilege, the lack of a full-time permanent job or career.
Three Rooms really conveys how much Brexit really dragged on, and how much of a big thing it is in our lives and country. I found it really clever how Brexit was discussed in Oxford University, and in London and different people’s perspectives on it.
Three Rooms is a beautiful novel that observes the current life hurdles, costs of living, holding down a job, not having a permanent job, and being in your 20’s in England, today. The story is a search for a place to live, a home, somewhere to make your own, and really be yourself, and find yourself. I can’t recommend it enough, I loved this story.
March 9, 2021
*3,5
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.
ARC provided by NetGalley :)
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.
ARC provided by NetGalley :)
September 20, 2021
Novel received courtesy of Goodreads.com First Reads Giveaways
This novel is the story of one young college grad's first jobs and her inability to afford an apartment of her own during the kerfuffle of the Brexit. The young woman is never named which I find very annoying even though I understand the purpose of not naming her. After graduating from college, she is able to afford a rented room in a house full of rented rooms. After she accepts a job at a fashion magazine in London, she can only afford to rent a couch in someone's living room. She loses that job and ends of moving back in with her parents.
She is very bitter about the fact that she cannot afford to rent an apartment on how much she makes and she bemoans the fact at every turn. Never does she look for a 2nd job or another solution. As you can tell, I have no sympathy for the main character. I struggled to get through the book even though it is only 200 pages.
This novel is the story of one young college grad's first jobs and her inability to afford an apartment of her own during the kerfuffle of the Brexit. The young woman is never named which I find very annoying even though I understand the purpose of not naming her. After graduating from college, she is able to afford a rented room in a house full of rented rooms. After she accepts a job at a fashion magazine in London, she can only afford to rent a couch in someone's living room. She loses that job and ends of moving back in with her parents.
She is very bitter about the fact that she cannot afford to rent an apartment on how much she makes and she bemoans the fact at every turn. Never does she look for a 2nd job or another solution. As you can tell, I have no sympathy for the main character. I struggled to get through the book even though it is only 200 pages.
September 4, 2022
(DNF) i might eventually try this again but it’s just so difficult to get into
October 13, 2022
this was fucking depressing and kinda painful but in a good way ? like poking a bruise
July 4, 2021
3.75*
thank you to Mollie at Jonathan Cape for my gifted copy!
this short little novel absolutely blew me away in terms of how cleverly written it was, and how insightful our (23 year old !!!) author is.
we follow our unnamed protagonist as she starts her position of research assistant at Oxford University in September 2018, moves into a house share and thus our 'first room' is introduced. she struggles with a lot of things I could relate to in this time, the /incessant/ UK politics where Brexit was never ending, the government was failing us left right and centre and we were craving any other news but Brexit (and with Covid, how we'd long for some uproar like when Rees-Mogg laid down in the House of Parliament lol)
I found her interactions with the people around her fascinating especially with 'neighbour' - her observations on people were cynical, acute but all the same I found myself not fully agreeing with how she viewed the world either.
we then follow her back to London, where she starts a "real job" at a society magazine and rents a sofa for £80 in Kensington off someone termed "flatmate" (I found myself loathing her so much - the power play between housemates is such a tricky thing to put into words and Hamya did it brilliantly). she struggles in this job, being on a casual contract with no security and not valued in any way.
I'm not sure really how to describe this book, the backdrop of UK politics really put things into perspective for me - I haven't read much set between 2018-2019 and those were times I thoroughly remember being glued to my phone/Twitter and trying to form an opinion on what was going on which our protagonist regularly did as well. also, her struggle as a twenty something woman navigating post-grad life and not fully knowing what she wants to do was done in a really refreshing way.
anyway, this was a bit of a ramble! overall this was fascinating, compelling but some things did go over my head in some ways and it felt a bit {too} intellectual for me at times.
fantastic debut.
thank you to Mollie at Jonathan Cape for my gifted copy!
this short little novel absolutely blew me away in terms of how cleverly written it was, and how insightful our (23 year old !!!) author is.
we follow our unnamed protagonist as she starts her position of research assistant at Oxford University in September 2018, moves into a house share and thus our 'first room' is introduced. she struggles with a lot of things I could relate to in this time, the /incessant/ UK politics where Brexit was never ending, the government was failing us left right and centre and we were craving any other news but Brexit (and with Covid, how we'd long for some uproar like when Rees-Mogg laid down in the House of Parliament lol)
I found her interactions with the people around her fascinating especially with 'neighbour' - her observations on people were cynical, acute but all the same I found myself not fully agreeing with how she viewed the world either.
we then follow her back to London, where she starts a "real job" at a society magazine and rents a sofa for £80 in Kensington off someone termed "flatmate" (I found myself loathing her so much - the power play between housemates is such a tricky thing to put into words and Hamya did it brilliantly). she struggles in this job, being on a casual contract with no security and not valued in any way.
I'm not sure really how to describe this book, the backdrop of UK politics really put things into perspective for me - I haven't read much set between 2018-2019 and those were times I thoroughly remember being glued to my phone/Twitter and trying to form an opinion on what was going on which our protagonist regularly did as well. also, her struggle as a twenty something woman navigating post-grad life and not fully knowing what she wants to do was done in a really refreshing way.
anyway, this was a bit of a ramble! overall this was fascinating, compelling but some things did go over my head in some ways and it felt a bit {too} intellectual for me at times.
fantastic debut.
May 10, 2021
Three Rooms is a novel that (accurately?) explores the cost of living in 21st-century England as a twenty something. The novel is split into three sections - three rooms that the unnamed narrator lives in during the course of the book. Three Rooms is set in front of the backdrop of Brexit and politics and is a novel about belonging and the price of trying to find your place.
The novel's unnamed protagonist is a literature graduate going from job to job and city to city struggling with the cost of modern living. Perhaps for this reason the novel hit a little too close to home at times. However, the protagonist is absent of a name or a personality and at times it was hard to sympathize with this generic millennial character.
Jo Hamya's writing priorities style over character and is reminiscent of the work of Rachel Cusk or Deborah Levy, two writers I love.
Jo Hamya's novel is part of a modern genre of satire with honest and intellectual prose. Similar in style to novels such as The New Me by Halle Butler and My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh, which itself got a notable mention in Three Rooms.
ARC provided by NetGalley and Penguin Random House in exchange for an honest review.
The novel's unnamed protagonist is a literature graduate going from job to job and city to city struggling with the cost of modern living. Perhaps for this reason the novel hit a little too close to home at times. However, the protagonist is absent of a name or a personality and at times it was hard to sympathize with this generic millennial character.
Jo Hamya's writing priorities style over character and is reminiscent of the work of Rachel Cusk or Deborah Levy, two writers I love.
Jo Hamya's novel is part of a modern genre of satire with honest and intellectual prose. Similar in style to novels such as The New Me by Halle Butler and My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh, which itself got a notable mention in Three Rooms.
ARC provided by NetGalley and Penguin Random House in exchange for an honest review.
May 7, 2021
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
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
October 16, 2022
Rather self-indulgent, autobiographical story about a woman of colour who sees herself as an outsider and a victim yet has middle-class parents, a post-graduate degree in English literature, works at Tatler and by choice drinks alone in pubs in Oxford and doesn't socialise with her friends in London. In my view, the only redeeming feature of the novel is that other characters tell her exactly his on multiple occasions, yet it doesn't sink in. At least the novel is short.
January 21, 2021
I had the privilege of reading a very early manuscript of this and I have to say, you are all in for a treat. This book is amazing. Jo Hamya is amazing. Watch out world.
February 18, 2021
I was so lucky to read an early draft of this book, and it is outstanding.
Jo is such an insightful, talented writer. I can't wait for the world to discover her.
Jo is such an insightful, talented writer. I can't wait for the world to discover her.
February 7, 2024
The first half of this book, I was not into it at all. And the second half, I wouldn't say I enjoyed it but it made me feel something (despondent), so I can't say it's a bad book.
It's about being a millennial in Britain, and as a millennial in Britain, my first reaction was, "Huh, check your privilege, main character." Because she's been to Oxford, she works in academia, her parents are semi-moneyed. But then I realized that my reaction is part of the point the book is trying to make.
Our main character is not the bottom of the societal heap. She's highly educated, has a middle-class background and parents that financially support her. What right does she have to complain when there are other's who have it worse? At the start of the novel, she's got an insecure job as a research assistant and lives in a room in a shared house in Oxford. Not quite the room of her own as Virginia Woolf envisioned, but she has temporary right of access to a room.
And then she leaves academia for the 'real world', working at a society magazine in London on a temporary contract that's up for renewal every couple of weeks, and here she can only afford to rent a sofa in someone else's flat. But hey, at least she's not homeless, right? She should check her privilege if she's going to start complaining, because there's always people worse off than she is...
And that, right there, once I realized it, was what bumped this book up for me. That, and a line where MC ponders how much our generation should be allowed to say we deserve. Prepare yourself, because I'm going to use the very millennial word gaslit to say that we, as a generation, get gaslit into believing that we should be grateful for anything resembling security, even if that is just enough money to rent a stranger's sofa. Because, hey, at least we're not homeless, right?
Is that it? That's the sum of what it is reasonable for millennials (and of course, Gen Z coming up the rear), to expect? Literally an indoor space to park ourselves between long shifts, that eats up the bulk of the income we earn from our insecure jobs?
In this book, a baby-boomer tells MC that she sofa-surfed in her day, that even though she has a nice house now, she never knew she was going to get all this one day. Which, when I read it, immediately my reaction was one of sympathy, like maybe millennials do whine too much and pretend baby-boomers had it easier than they did... But then, really? Perhaps she didn't know, but it would have been reasonable to suspect. If she was middle-class and employed in a regular job on a secure contract and married to someone in a similar position, was it reasonable to suspect that she might one day own a house in London? And then how true is that for millennials, by contrast?
This same character then pulls out the meritocratic dogma that if you work hard, you will succeed, and didn't she and her generation work very hard to get to where they are? With the implication, of course, that millennials simply do not work hard enough and thus do not deserve home ownership and secure contracts the way they did.
Which gets to the point that, absolutely, I think this book puts the perfect words in people's mouths to get them to make the points the book wants to make, and yeah, this is not storytelling at its most subtle. For example, it was a little cringey to have the Uber driver give a detailed breakdown of a report on Grenfell. Equally, it was pretty on-the-nose that the incinerated remains of Grenfell were visible from aforementioned homeowning boomer's conservatory window. But y'know, the points made were valid so I'll give it a pass.
The final point I want to make is that this book is extremely specific. It's set at a very particular (and very recent) point in time; Boris Johnson became prime minister, Brexit was finalized. And you get detailed reports of news coverage from that time, some of which I remember reading the exact articles being referred to. I more or less follow this because it's so recent and I'm British and followed a similar news cycle to the MC (translation: I'm a Guardian reader). But will such granular and specific detail hold up 20 years from now? What about to audiences in other countries who didn't live through the day-to-day of that news coverage? I kind of doubt it will hold up. This book has wider points to make, but its specificity may be its weakness.
Anyway, a depressing read because it's basically right and our generation is indeed pretty doomed.
It's about being a millennial in Britain, and as a millennial in Britain, my first reaction was, "Huh, check your privilege, main character." Because she's been to Oxford, she works in academia, her parents are semi-moneyed. But then I realized that my reaction is part of the point the book is trying to make.
Our main character is not the bottom of the societal heap. She's highly educated, has a middle-class background and parents that financially support her. What right does she have to complain when there are other's who have it worse? At the start of the novel, she's got an insecure job as a research assistant and lives in a room in a shared house in Oxford. Not quite the room of her own as Virginia Woolf envisioned, but she has temporary right of access to a room.
And then she leaves academia for the 'real world', working at a society magazine in London on a temporary contract that's up for renewal every couple of weeks, and here she can only afford to rent a sofa in someone else's flat. But hey, at least she's not homeless, right? She should check her privilege if she's going to start complaining, because there's always people worse off than she is...
And that, right there, once I realized it, was what bumped this book up for me. That, and a line where MC ponders how much our generation should be allowed to say we deserve. Prepare yourself, because I'm going to use the very millennial word gaslit to say that we, as a generation, get gaslit into believing that we should be grateful for anything resembling security, even if that is just enough money to rent a stranger's sofa. Because, hey, at least we're not homeless, right?
Is that it? That's the sum of what it is reasonable for millennials (and of course, Gen Z coming up the rear), to expect? Literally an indoor space to park ourselves between long shifts, that eats up the bulk of the income we earn from our insecure jobs?
In this book, a baby-boomer tells MC that she sofa-surfed in her day, that even though she has a nice house now, she never knew she was going to get all this one day. Which, when I read it, immediately my reaction was one of sympathy, like maybe millennials do whine too much and pretend baby-boomers had it easier than they did... But then, really? Perhaps she didn't know, but it would have been reasonable to suspect. If she was middle-class and employed in a regular job on a secure contract and married to someone in a similar position, was it reasonable to suspect that she might one day own a house in London? And then how true is that for millennials, by contrast?
This same character then pulls out the meritocratic dogma that if you work hard, you will succeed, and didn't she and her generation work very hard to get to where they are? With the implication, of course, that millennials simply do not work hard enough and thus do not deserve home ownership and secure contracts the way they did.
Which gets to the point that, absolutely, I think this book puts the perfect words in people's mouths to get them to make the points the book wants to make, and yeah, this is not storytelling at its most subtle. For example, it was a little cringey to have the Uber driver give a detailed breakdown of a report on Grenfell. Equally, it was pretty on-the-nose that the incinerated remains of Grenfell were visible from aforementioned homeowning boomer's conservatory window. But y'know, the points made were valid so I'll give it a pass.
The final point I want to make is that this book is extremely specific. It's set at a very particular (and very recent) point in time; Boris Johnson became prime minister, Brexit was finalized. And you get detailed reports of news coverage from that time, some of which I remember reading the exact articles being referred to. I more or less follow this because it's so recent and I'm British and followed a similar news cycle to the MC (translation: I'm a Guardian reader). But will such granular and specific detail hold up 20 years from now? What about to audiences in other countries who didn't live through the day-to-day of that news coverage? I kind of doubt it will hold up. This book has wider points to make, but its specificity may be its weakness.
Anyway, a depressing read because it's basically right and our generation is indeed pretty doomed.
December 21, 2022
This book was a bit 50/50 for me. I felt like it started off realy strong. The writing style is beautiful and perfectly captures what it feels like to be that generation during economic and political chaos. It felt so relatable in terms of the struggle of affording housing, and the struggle to get a job after university in the current economic climate. However, by the end of the book i felt it drop off a little. The blurb asks us when it is right to give up, and accept that we cannot afford to sustain ourselves and be independant, but it left open options for the main character. Yet i found her ending pradictable and boring, and felt that it could have been much more interestingly ended.
The main character looks at the world through a very dull lense, and the writing really reflects that. She seems to go along with everything, making no connections and ties to anything. Her life seems in the end, pointless and dull. And for the first part that was enjoyable to read, but it sort of doesnt get better or worse, just boring.
The main character looks at the world through a very dull lense, and the writing really reflects that. She seems to go along with everything, making no connections and ties to anything. Her life seems in the end, pointless and dull. And for the first part that was enjoyable to read, but it sort of doesnt get better or worse, just boring.
May 10, 2023
i'm not versed enough in British/European politics and history to pick up on everything but this was a good read on thinking about how we're all just renting spaces we can't call our own!!! being a 20 something year old reading this is fascinating for sure but the wishy washy nature of our narrator was also a bit annoying after some time as a reader.
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