In this novel The Vulnerables I really liked the parts when the main character was in friend’s flat taking care of a parrot and interacting with another human guest. Other parts of the story with random people that didn’t have directly connection to the main story were unnecessary for me, they were more of a stream of consciousness thoughts, which could be left out and instead of them the author could develop the main story further.
This was my first time I got to know Sigrid Nunez as a writer and I like her writing style, very straightforward with humor elements that embellish the reading experience. I appreciated her literary knowledge and I didn’t mind reading quotes from other writers.
Sigrid Nunez intrigued me enough for reaching her other renowned novel The Friend.

I had somehow missed that this was a novel set in lockdown and it was pure coincidence that I ended up reading it in feverish spurts while in quarantine with a bad bout of Covid. As a novel, it is both more and less strange than the blurb implies - slight but profound and wholly original. It was a wonderful companion whilst I was ill but it certainly doesn't need the setting to be enjoyed. Highly recommended and thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC.

The Vulnerables was requested by me purely on account of the author in question. I stumbled upon - and enjoyed very much - The Last of Her Kind almost 10 years ago, and since then I’ve read a few of hers; I think this marks the 4th book by Sigrid Nunez that I’ve read.

There’s something beguiling about her use of language, like a wise(r), old(er) friend who is telling you things, but beneath the apparent surface of what you’re being told, it feels like there are other things being seeded, kernels left for you to unearth if you can be bothered to look for them. I realise that’s a bit imprecise, but there’s something elusive and tricky to pin down about her style - playful, shifting, a tad unorthodox; clever in a way that doesn’t patronise. Another way to put it might be that I was left with the feeling there’s more lurking than initially meets the reader’s eye(s).

The book is partly strange as it documents a strange time for everyone - the onset of the Covid pandemic in spring 2020 (“It was an uncertain spring” is the first line; an opening she shortly after takes time to partly deconstruct - “Never open a book with the weather is one of the first rules of writing. I have never understood why not.”) Much of The Vulnerables feels - superficially - incidental or inconsequential; it rambles along much like life, really. Who are the vulnerables in question? All of us in different ways probably, from the ageing narrator, to the parrot she finds herself sharing an apartment with, as well as the young man who bounces in and out of the story's various strands. But there’s also something else going on, a game of sorts where we are being invited to consider the relationship between writer/reader (or storyteller/listener) and the extent to which we can reasonably expect an author to “tell us the truth”, or indeed if that would even be desirable or interesting. (Nunez clearly and repeatedly references the *novel* she is writing, and there are numerous signposts as to why we might do well not to think everything happened exactly as recounted.)

“Some writers use pen names so that they can be more truthful; others, so that they can tell more lies. I like how Lily Tomlin used to introduce one part of her act: The following skit is about my parents. I have changed their names to protect their identities. You can start with fiction or start with documentary, according to Jean-Luc Godard. Either way, you will inevitably find the other.”

“On a literary panel once, Ian Frazier gave his reason for not reading novels: “When you read a novel it begins, 'Johnny was walking down the street', and all I can think of is, no he wasn’t”

Or as the narrator advises her creative writing students at one point… “So I suggested that they make two sets, one in which they wrote down true reminiscences, another in which they made things up, and interspliced them”

So there you go. A tale most likely about some things that either did or didn’t happen, or probably somewhere in between, about nothing or everything depending on the kind of person you are. Or to give the last word back to the author…

“Only when I was young did I believe that it was important to remember what happened in every novel I read. Now I know the truth: what matters is what you experience while reading, the states of feeling that the story evokes, the questions that rise to your mind, rather than the fictional events described.”

I liked The Vulnerables a great deal and will definitely make a further effort to seek out some of her other works that I have not yet run into.

With thanks to NetGalley for an advanced copy in exchange for an unbiased review.

'The Vulnerables' is a strange novel which in its strangeness may come the closest to capturing the strangeness of the Covid-19 pandemic of any of the 'pandemic novels' that have been published over the last three years.

The main action of the novel unfolds in 2020 in a luxurious New York apartment where two strangers - an older female writer (the narrator, who resembles the author in many respects) and a male college dropout - find themselves house-sitting and looking after a parrot named Eureka, while the parrot's wealthy and heavily pregnant owner is stuck in California. Initially hostile to each other, the narrator and her flatmate eventually form an unlikely bond.

However, this narrative takes up quite a small proportion of the novel and only gets underway about halfway into it. Alongside this the narrator engages in frequent digressions in which she looks back on her earlier life and reflects on topics ranging from politics to the climate crisis. Much of the novel is about writing itself, and Nunez includes quotations and biographical details from writers such as Joan Didion, Virginia Woolf, Marcel Proust and many, many others.

This could make for rather a frustrating reading experience, but in Nunez's writing, whether playful or poignant, is consistently profound, and the pandemic itself acts as a unifying force on her meandering narrative, as it gives her the clarity to perceive the world accurately and perceptively. It scarcely matters which insights are her own and which are others' which she has collected - this book feels like a lasting testament to what we all experienced in 2020. Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC to review.

In this poignant exploration, the book gracefully navigates the labyrinth of memories forged during lockdown, contemplating the theme of vulnerability. Through a collection of both real and imagined stories, it sheds light on the multifaceted faces of vulnerability, capturing the experiences of the old, the young, and those in between. The narrative beautifully recounts the essence of life during the pandemic, offering a relatable account that resonates even for those who may struggle to articulate the profound changes it wrought. Reading "The Vulnerables" feels akin to engaging in a lengthy and captivating conversation with a well-read friend.

This is a first for me by the author and one I enjoyed and I would read more of their work. The book cover is eye-catching and appealing and would spark my interest if in a bookshop. Thank you to the author, publisher and Netgalley for this ARC.

I didn‘t love this as much as some of my other book friends, I don‘t think. It felt a bit too much like it skimmed across the surface of thoughts and feelings.

Thinking about it, it‘s the sort of book that would work better on audio for me, being a bit meandering.

I didn‘t dislike it, I just didn‘t feel a deep connection to the characters, the place or the storyline. Still a pick though and I would definitely try more by this author.

I went into this book without realising it was a pandemic novel but I really enjoy reading about other experiences of the pandemic so it was all good. Initially I found the narrator's meandering thoughts and anecdotes distracting and kind of wondered where the story was and when we'd get back to it but quickly warmed to her musings. It's a reflective novel which looks at the problems of our world with a sharp eye, a huge dose of melancholy and a good bit of humour.

I'm just not entirely sure what this book was about. COVID? Being lonely? It jumped around so much, like a stream of consciousness sometimes, but not in a good way. Half finished ideas and ramblings. There was a whole chapter that was a review of the documentary My friend the octopus.
I get the sense this is the authors style, but it wasn't for me.

A beautifully written account of what life was like during the pandemic and how much even seemingly insignificant deeds of kindness can mean to someone in need.

Elegy plus comedy is the only way to express how we live in the world today, says a character in Sigrid Nunez’s ninth novel. The Vulnerables offers a meditation on our contemporary era, as a solitary female narrator asks what it means to be alive at this complex moment in history and considers how our present reality affects the way a person looks back on her past. Humor, to be sure, is a priceless refuge. Equally vital is connection with others, who here include an adrift member of Gen Z and a spirited parrot named Eureka. The Vulnerables reveals what happens when strangers are willing to open their hearts to each other and how far even small acts of caring can go to ease another’s distress. A search for understanding about some of the most critical matters of our time, Nunez’s new novel is also an inquiry into the nature and purpose of writing itself.

The Vulnerables is an elegiac comedy, set during the pandemic and offering ‘a meditation on our contemporary era, as a solitary female narrator asks what it means to be alive’.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I haven’t read many books set in or post-pandemic and this is largely by choice. Really, I’m not sure if I’ve fully processed that time period yet and so I approached this eARC with caution. However, I was pleasantly surprised and The Vulnerables grew on me as a quixotic rumination of what it means to be alive, all whilst exploring society’s standards of the average person, of hierarchy and the curious interactions between strangers.

Our narrator brings a compelling and modern voice to the book, never propelling the story hugely forwards, but rather ruminating on everything that is going on [in the pandemic and lockdowns] and all that may be still to come. She’s accompanied by a spirited bird, Eureka, which did lose me a little. What can I say? I adore animals, but don’t quite connect to them as fully fledged characters in a novel. This book reads like a cosy but querying meditation on humanity and our lives as the pandemic threw our daily routines and what we knew to be true out of whack. I think I finished it feeling just mildly unsettled. (Likely because I read it alongside Beautiful Star by Yukio Mishima, which ruminated whether humanity should exist!)

This book took me straight back to the lockdowns and brought back so many memories. It explores the lockdowns from different characters and it made me think a lot about everything that happened at that time.

its the first book I've written about the lockdown and it was enjoyable.

My thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for my free digital ARC!

I’ve not read many books so overtly about the two years of lockdown due to Covid, and I wouldn’t have expected being thrown back into that dismal town to be quite so uplifting. But I did find that with Sigrid Nunez’s quirky and charming novel (/ memoir?) The Vulnerables.

During lockdown, the elderly female narrator, an author, finds herself alone in New York, everyone around her fleeing to their convenient second homes in the countryside. She agrees to pet sit a friend of a friend’s parrot, Eureka, but finds herself in uncomfortably close quarters with the young man originally tasked with babysitting Eureka. Reluctant to engage with him at first, the two soon settle into a fragile friendship centred mainly around getting high and having philosophical discussions.

While I really liked the narrator, I couldn’t warm to ‘Vetch’, as she calls him. I think the point of the book is that everyone has their own troubles and we should be sympathetic, and I absolutely did sympathise with Vetch’s mental health issues. But he would often go on a tirade about how he was lost in this world that was so ‘against’ white hetero cis men - trying to make himself the victim, without acknowledging the privilege he has to not work, subsidised by daddy even though his parents aren’t speaking to him.

But my issues with Vetch didn’t impact my overall enjoyment of the book, especially the intertextual musings woven throughout. The author/narrator is constantly reflecting on quotes by authors she admires, chewing on them, wondering what they, mainly white European, would make of her, elderly, female, mixed-race. She also obviously thinks a lot about the pandemic and the way it affects the most vulnerable in our societies.

I’m not sure how much of Nunez is in the narrator, but I got the feeling a fair amount - I loved the wry humour and the overall tone of the book.

I adore Sigrid Nunez's style: self-deprecating, humorous in sections, odd in others. The Vulnerables perfectly describes life under lockdown without all the hand-wringing and soul-searching. The author plays the lead character. She finds herself alone in lockdown New York, pet/house-sitting for a friend whose little vacation to California before her kid is born develops into a lengthy journey.

While stuck at a friend's flat, the author goes on lengthy walks, sometimes with the crazy, but more frequently alone. She falls in love with Eureka, the parrot who craves attention more than friends or family. The original sitter then unexpectedly reappears, and the two begin an uncomfortable friendship.

To be honest, I didn't want this novel to go anywhere else. I forced myself to limit it so that I could enjoy it for a longer period of time. I thoroughly appreciated it all. I'd suggest this book to Nunez lovers or people who have never read her before. In any case, you should read it.

This book meanders through memories of lockdown, reflecting on vulnerability. It tells the stories, real and/or imagined, of the many different faces of the vulnerable - the old, the young, and many in between. It is a beautifully written recollection of what life was like during the pandemic that we can all relate to even if we don't yet have words to describe it. Reading The Vulnerables feels like a long, interesting conversation with a well-read friend.

I loved this even more than The Friend. I've seen a few reviews that say this book wandered all over the place. I have a feeling I read a different book.

Sigrid Nunez' style is one that I love - self-deprecating, funny in parts, strange in others. The Vulnerables is a perfect description of life in lockdown without all the hand-wringing and soul-searching. The author takes the part of lead character. Alone in lockdown New York she finds herself pet/house-sitting for a friend whose quick trip to California before her baby is born turns into an extended trip.

Stuck in the friend's flat the author takes long walks, sometimes amongst the crazies but more often alone. She falls in love with Eureka, the parrot who is even more needy for attention than friends or family. Then the original sitter returns unexpectedly and the two form an uneasy friendship.

The Vulnerables is about all vulnerables - the parrot, old people, sick people, lonely people, society as a whole.

Frankly I didn't want this book to go anywhere else. I forced myself to ration it out so I could enjoy it for longer. I enjoyed all of it immensely. I'd highly recommend this book to fans of Nunez or those who've never read her before. Either way, you should read it.

A really enjoyable pandemic novel that in many places doesn’t read like a novel, more like a memoir of a writer. Lots of literary references and musings on writing, reflections on the lockdowns and the effects on the people who stayed at home (so yes the main characters are basically all well off and not essential workers). The narrator is a writer (the author herself?) and the main portion of the novel she is staying in a friends apartment to look after her parrot, Eureka. But the plot isn’t the main thing and I enjoyed the flow of ideas, making it a pleasure to read.

I just can’t figure out what this book is suppose to be, and in whose voice. Is it first person, or is this unnamed female narrator a total fiction? I would entirely believe you if you told me that Lucy Barton was the author. But I think Lucy might produce something more cohesive.

All the references to other authors made it feel like an academic exercise from a postgrad student. It starts like a collection of essays, houses a central story relating to parrot-sitting during covid lockdown, but it was a strangely placed critique of Joan Didion’s Slouching towards Bethlehem that was just a step too far for me. I DNF at 73%.

A sharp, elegant novel that explores human observations, told through conversations, inner thinking and memories. This novel is super clever in its construction and takes the reader through a seamless river of past, present and the learning of human connection along the way.
I enjoyed the progressing relationship between the 3 main characters (Eureka is a joy!) and felt saddened when they parted ways and wanted to be reassured that they all stayed in touch. (In my head they do indeed stay in touch and look out for one another!)
I will be recommending this book to friends and family and will seek out other titles by this author.

Set during the spring of 2020, The Vulnerables follows an unnamed writer as she finds her way through lockdown, taking up residence in a palatial apartment to care for a parrot whose owner has been left stranded with her in-laws. Entertained by this gorgeous playful creature, so responsive to her friendly overtures, our narrator is resentful when the bird’s original caretaker turns up again, chucked out by his parents. They form an uneasy alliance eventually deepening into a friendship when he eases her persistent nausea by sharing his stash.

Sigrid Nunez’s novel is an absolute joy. Witty, erudite and wonderfully discursive, it’s packed with literary allusions, memories and stories about acquaintances and friends. Ageing, the modern world, the pandemic, climate change, friendship, writing and reading are just a smattering of the subjects our narrator muses on. Given the many references to the blurring of autobiography and fiction together with similarities to Nunez’s own life, it’s hard not to view this as a slice of autofiction although perhaps a personal meditation might be a better description.

A new Sigrid Nunez book is always a cause for excitement and The Vulnerables does not disappoint - she explores experiences of the pandemic, generational differences, processes of writing and reading, and just being human.