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Ruins, Child
Set in what may be the future, and centred on six women sharing a space in some sort of crumbling apartment tower,
Ruins, Child is remarkable for its irresistible sweep, wit, and prickly splintered truth. Giada Scodellaro's novel is like a precious old dropped, looking up at you, flashing light and bits of the undeniable. With the pulsating sway of its liquid mosaic narrative, the novel may recall Virginia Woolf's
The Waves, but is entirely its own kaleidoscopic, pointedly disorienting in its looseness, and powered along by snatches of speech from its compelling ensemble cast, often vernacular, often overheard. It's a book seemingly drawn from deep wells of Black American Scodellaro's female protagonists push back against authority in the very vivacity of their telling, setting afoot a freeing-up and a mysterious inversion of marginalization. A surreal musing,
Ruins, Child uses the lens of urban infrastructure, social commentary, folklore, choreography and collective listening to create an ethnography of place and an ode to communal ruins.
Ruins, Child is remarkable for its irresistible sweep, wit, and prickly splintered truth. Giada Scodellaro's novel is like a precious old dropped, looking up at you, flashing light and bits of the undeniable. With the pulsating sway of its liquid mosaic narrative, the novel may recall Virginia Woolf's
The Waves, but is entirely its own kaleidoscopic, pointedly disorienting in its looseness, and powered along by snatches of speech from its compelling ensemble cast, often vernacular, often overheard. It's a book seemingly drawn from deep wells of Black American Scodellaro's female protagonists push back against authority in the very vivacity of their telling, setting afoot a freeing-up and a mysterious inversion of marginalization. A surreal musing,
Ruins, Child uses the lens of urban infrastructure, social commentary, folklore, choreography and collective listening to create an ethnography of place and an ode to communal ruins.
128 pages, Paperback
Published April 7, 2026
About the author
Giada Scodellaro
2 books43 followersGiada Scodellaro was born in Naples, Italy and raised in the Bronx, New York. Giada’s writings have appeared in or are forthcoming from The New Yorker, BOMB, Harper’s, Granta, and The Chicago Review of Books, among other publications. Giada is a recipient of a MacDowell Fellowship, and is the inaugural Tables of Contents Regenerative Residency fellow. Her debut collection, "Some of Them Will Carry Me" (Dorothy, a publishing project), was named one of the New Yorker’s best books of 2022. She is an Assistant Professor at Columbia University. Winner of The Novel Prize, Giada's debut novel, "Ruins, Child", will be simultaneously published by New Directions (US), Fitzcarraldo Editions (UK), and Giramondo (AU) in early 2026.
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
April 30, 2026
A story in the form of montage that meditates on friendship, community, fragility, and beauty at the end of the world. Loved the resonances with Toni Cade Barbara’s The Salt Eaters, another beautifully hypnotic and experimental narrative. Highly recommend.
April 11, 2026
And the audience doesn't really understand much of what is going on. The editing is chaotic. Though we do know how the trees were used for violence/are still used, we do know what Alice Coltrane was plucking her fingers raw about, goddamn, a child says
Ruins, Child by Giada Scodellaro was winner of the 2024 Novel Prize 'a biennial award for a book-length work of literary fiction written in English by published and unpublished writers around the world. It offers $10,000 to the winner and simultaneous publication in North America by New York-based New Directions, in the UK and Ireland by the London-based Fitzcarraldo Editions, and in Australia and New Zealand by the Sydney-based publisher Giramondo. The prize rewards novels which explore and expand the possibilities of the form, and are innovative and imaginative in style.'
And this novel certainly fulfils that brief - were the author British, it would be a strong Goldsmiths contender - although the form of the work makes for a disorientating read, what I tend to think of as a One Eyes Scissor novel.
The novel centres around (I think) seven women (that the blurb says six, perhaps to the dual nature of two of the characters, is somewhat symptomatic) is an apartment tower complex in what, from street names, must be the Bronx in New York. Foremost amongst them in Vonetta!, aka the Mother, aka the woman!, aka fast!:
Vonetta!, though the neighbors call her something else entirely (fast!), and we mostly refer to her as she exists (the woman!). Oh, but I don't like to be reduced.
It's Vonetta!, she says when she introduces herself to any man or woman, or child. With an exclamation point at the end, the woman continues, an aircraft moving past.
Some stragglers have joined, they adjust themselves on the carpeted floor, finding a free space, or a gap, the arm of the plastic couch. They sit up straight to watch this thirty year old film. Vonetta!, this is how the name is written on the birth certificate, I can show it to you, though it might fall apart a little more in our hands, yellowed.
Vonetta!, the woman explains, is the name given by my mother to prepare me for bow I would be called out, or bow I would be erected, enacted, blamed. The punctuation at the end like a nail left in a wall.
The form of the novel includes a chorus of different voices; recurrent themes (e.g. the burning down of the local school); a description of a film made about the women; a section of poetry, or broken prose; and a description of tape sounds. The contents include commentary on urban and landscape architecture, as well as the socio-economic situation of the collective. And the originality and invention of the form it itself part of the novel's message - a rebuttal of the status quo:
Keep the existing pipes, to sustain what's already in place and keep it functioning is okay. To maintain the status quo is fine. To be a journalist is alright, but to be a revolutionary is not. The downstairs neighbor is a journalist.
Inventing is akin to sinning!, the journalist neighbor, Bobby (real name Bubba) likes to say while washing his clothes in the laundry room.
Invention is akin to sinning!, the high-schoolers say on their way to the school building. The school building has been burnt down to its foundation.
A politician is okay, Vonetta! continues. An actress can use her role to reflect the norms of society or some of the violence. A seamstress can mend, sure. It's okay to mend or fix things, to hammer them together; that is allowed. In other words, to take care of (in minor ways) the objects or people that need tending to is encouraged. But creating something altogether new-no. No. To be innovative is to be out of line, darling. 'Things are meant to break' the government says, 'there is divinity in what is broken and in the broken is the divine!
The orange sky, the orange sky is reflected in the lake and in the cars moving past. From up top, from this height here there is the impression of stillness. From the second highest floor of the tallest apartment building there is absence.
Fascinating if somewhat bewildering - 3.5 stars.
Ruins, Child by Giada Scodellaro was winner of the 2024 Novel Prize 'a biennial award for a book-length work of literary fiction written in English by published and unpublished writers around the world. It offers $10,000 to the winner and simultaneous publication in North America by New York-based New Directions, in the UK and Ireland by the London-based Fitzcarraldo Editions, and in Australia and New Zealand by the Sydney-based publisher Giramondo. The prize rewards novels which explore and expand the possibilities of the form, and are innovative and imaginative in style.'
And this novel certainly fulfils that brief - were the author British, it would be a strong Goldsmiths contender - although the form of the work makes for a disorientating read, what I tend to think of as a One Eyes Scissor novel.
The novel centres around (I think) seven women (that the blurb says six, perhaps to the dual nature of two of the characters, is somewhat symptomatic) is an apartment tower complex in what, from street names, must be the Bronx in New York. Foremost amongst them in Vonetta!, aka the Mother, aka the woman!, aka fast!:
Vonetta!, though the neighbors call her something else entirely (fast!), and we mostly refer to her as she exists (the woman!). Oh, but I don't like to be reduced.
It's Vonetta!, she says when she introduces herself to any man or woman, or child. With an exclamation point at the end, the woman continues, an aircraft moving past.
Some stragglers have joined, they adjust themselves on the carpeted floor, finding a free space, or a gap, the arm of the plastic couch. They sit up straight to watch this thirty year old film. Vonetta!, this is how the name is written on the birth certificate, I can show it to you, though it might fall apart a little more in our hands, yellowed.
Vonetta!, the woman explains, is the name given by my mother to prepare me for bow I would be called out, or bow I would be erected, enacted, blamed. The punctuation at the end like a nail left in a wall.
The form of the novel includes a chorus of different voices; recurrent themes (e.g. the burning down of the local school); a description of a film made about the women; a section of poetry, or broken prose; and a description of tape sounds. The contents include commentary on urban and landscape architecture, as well as the socio-economic situation of the collective. And the originality and invention of the form it itself part of the novel's message - a rebuttal of the status quo:
Keep the existing pipes, to sustain what's already in place and keep it functioning is okay. To maintain the status quo is fine. To be a journalist is alright, but to be a revolutionary is not. The downstairs neighbor is a journalist.
Inventing is akin to sinning!, the journalist neighbor, Bobby (real name Bubba) likes to say while washing his clothes in the laundry room.
Invention is akin to sinning!, the high-schoolers say on their way to the school building. The school building has been burnt down to its foundation.
A politician is okay, Vonetta! continues. An actress can use her role to reflect the norms of society or some of the violence. A seamstress can mend, sure. It's okay to mend or fix things, to hammer them together; that is allowed. In other words, to take care of (in minor ways) the objects or people that need tending to is encouraged. But creating something altogether new-no. No. To be innovative is to be out of line, darling. 'Things are meant to break' the government says, 'there is divinity in what is broken and in the broken is the divine!
The orange sky, the orange sky is reflected in the lake and in the cars moving past. From up top, from this height here there is the impression of stillness. From the second highest floor of the tallest apartment building there is absence.
Fascinating if somewhat bewildering - 3.5 stars.
May 4, 2026
May need to revisit this in the future… possibly with a physical copy and not during finals week. But I might have just not enjoyed it lol.
April 8, 2026
This was a jarring, voyeuristic, and poetic read which throws the reader fragments of narrative but largely relies on feeling. There are fleeting moments of beauty, judgement, and emotion as we watch these six Black women exist, reflect, and reflect on those reflections. It’s billed as a breaking of the form and it certainly feels that way, often with exciting and raw results, although at times it feels like Scodellaro shatters it too far, almost beyond repair, with parts feeling overly laboured and arduous or self-indulgent. More an experiment than the finished formula then, but definitely one I enjoyed a lot.
April 7, 2026
I know there's a decent section of references and signifiers that I'm missing out on here because the life experience of the author is different from the one that I, as a White European man, have had, and I absolutely do not mean to imply that Scodellaro should have pandered more to my demographic with this book. However, I harbour deep doubts as to how comprehensible Ruins, Child would be even for a Black (or mixed race) American woman - the barrier of entry that Scodellaro's obtuse, fragmented, and deliberately unforthcoming poetry/prose hybrid presents to the reader is surely so high as to render her story highly inaccessible and at times fully unintelligible. I will say that it benefits somewhat from being read aloud, as this brings out the prosody in Scodellaro's words a bit more, but my bottom line is that if a White male author came out with this, we would rightfully be calling it a pretentious mess, so let's not lose ourselves in meaningless platitudes about localised experiential value and whatnot just because the writer is a woman of colour.
April 10, 2026
Well, what to make of that? A dystopian tale of a female community that is always on guard, always watched either through film or by other generations or men. At times it felt like Scodellaro had consumed vast amounts of LSD and written in a stream of consciousness style that left me with a headache. Doubtless a talented author, this required a lot of effort not to DNF and, although I am glad I finished it, it did little for me. Sorry.
May 11, 2026
Challenging, consistently fascinating, excellent experimental fiction. I was holding onto every word of this. It's weirdness, ecological backbone, ekphrasis-esque storytelling matches many of my novel interests. Strongly recommend, especially if you're looking for something a bit off the beaten path.
Did Not Finish
May 14, 2026Miserably pretentious. I'm not going to say "its just not for me" because being purposefully obtuse to hide a lack of substance within flowery prose should not be for anyone. Why did this get published?
March 31, 2026
Unlike anything I've read before....
P.S. Not for readers who do not like descriptive reads....
P.S. Not for readers who do not like descriptive reads....
April 12, 2026
Quite hard work. I'm taking away some fractured and confused yet striking images of characters and locations, but, really, no idea what was going on.
April 24, 2026
I just could not engage with this book whatsoever and found its format overdone preventing any sort of connection with the material
April 30, 2026
I love the aesthetic of this re structure, the pictures and the cover but I had no idea what was going on
May 1, 2026
Surreal and evocative, in a manner quite reminiscent of Delaney's Dhalgren, to my mind, while remaining distinctly its own work.
May 10, 2026
Possibly the most surreal book I've ever read (complimentary). I wanted to stay in the tiny pockets of that world a little longer and try to understand more about what was going on.
Review of advance copy
“Burle is dressed to the nines, draped down, classy like. He yells out, I shot him lightly, and he died politely!”
– Giada Scodellaro, Ruins, Child
– Giada Scodellaro, Ruins, Child
Review of advance copy
came here ready to read reviews that would help me understand this very beautiful book but i’m apparently the first one to review it. what the hell sure
Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews