Welcome Readers!

I am looking for First Readers for my Narrative/Creative Non-Fiction, The Paper Boat, and I would love to have your input on it. If you are interested in reading and reviewing it, click here to contact me.

Thank you!

What Readers Are Saying About The Paper Boat:

Congrats! This is a big one and the best you’ve written so far (from what I have read). I want more. I love the way, to call it so, your style works for this format of a bio-fiction novel. I like that you brought over the cinematic visuals with lots of movement and the layered substance of the main character. This can be a film.

The psychoanalytic tool called “desubjectification,” or how Freud would put it, displacement, works perfectly for this form. You use it quite skillfully, what Cristina can’t do, Zonja can. The way Zonja takes over when Cristina feels paralyzed—like when she decides to go with Teddy to Lagos, fully immersing herself in a world of excess, while Cristina would have hesitated—illustrates this shift so well. At the same time, this tool works great to depict the problem all the petite bourgeoisie faces under the neoliberal system. While being in solidarity with the working class in its fight for equal rights, it has to engage in the social reproduction of late capitalism and by that reinforce the status quo.

I love that Cristina is there to work in the private sphere and look for ways to diminish the gap between the private and the public sphere by living a precarious life and practicing manual labor, and building the community that supports the idea of common good over individualism. Zonja is there to ignore the gap between these two spheres and the consequence of a precarious life by fully diving into consumeristic behavior. This contrast is so clearly drawn when Cristina reflects on the weight of labor and shared responsibility while Zonja, in full party-girl mode, focuses on hedonism, material indulgence, and drifting between superficial relationships.

Of course, this is a separate long conversation about where the line is between the ethical action that leads to the building of a community and the individualistic decadent act. But this is not so important for this book as important is the encounter with the other, especially with unfamiliar strangers. So to say, the desubjectification of the main character provides a shift in the language. This shift moves the focus from the inner to the outer, where bodies with clear boundaries have developed through evolution. During an encounter with someone else, desires become entangled, and thoughts begin to merge. This interaction is always a potential event, where one thought it was "I," but in fact, it is already "other." We are always already together, always connected. This is the first step towards a more conscious ethical life. The moment by the ocean, where Cristina, Sam, and Tony sit in silence and experience a profound shared understanding of life’s impermanence, is one of the most beautiful representations of this. Their quiet acceptance of the world as it is, beyond personal histories and struggles, encapsulates this notion perfectly.

The most memorable image of the book, I think, represents its core. I am referring here to the mandala on the beach where the ocean and the lake meet. It reminded me of the movie Samsara, where a group of Tibetan monks build a mandala through a meticulous process of drawing it with colorful dust, only to destroy it at the end of the movie. Destruction in the name of samsara - of rebirth. It made my communist soul happy to see Cristina’s journey from running away from her roots and from the dysfunctional family and letting Zonja take over, only to rebuild herself again at the end of this journey. The act of making and unmaking, of losing oneself and then rediscovering meaning, is woven throughout the book. Cristina’s self-reconstruction, as subtle as it is, stands as an act of defiance against the self-destruction she had allowed Zonja to lead her into.

I understand that the paper boat has an emotional meaning for Zonja and her connection to Sam, but as a reader, I had a hard time connecting to the metaphor. Maybe because it was introduced with a sense of personal significance but not fully anchored into the broader thematic framework of the novel. I’m not so sure about how well this title represents the book. Sure thing, this is my subjective experience, again, because of my personal connection to the story. I might be biased to some extent, taking into account the similarities in my personal story and the main character's, leaving an ethical life in Moldova for a precarious one in the west. But I see potential for an intellectual reflection stimulus in the book.

Anyways, my communist soul had a ride, from being annoyed by Zonja’s self-absorbed behavior with an almost intentional choice to hang out with people with whom there is no possibility for an ethical bond to Cristina's self-awareness. This is especially striking in the scene where she pushes George away, not just physically but philosophically, showing a deliberate lack of interest in forming connections beyond immediate pleasure and experience.

Also, this desubjectification makes me think of the difference between the death drive and the drive for life – Zonja and Cristina. Zonja doesn’t want to live; she only looks for self-destruction, while Cristina thinks of the future, the legacy, and contribution to the common good. This is made even more tangible when Sam fully gives himself over to Teddy’s transactional world, while Cristina, despite her initial entanglement in the scene, remains an observer, refusing to get fully pulled in.
Thank you for the ride. I can't wait to see how this novel evolves.

Andrei Mamal,

37 y.o.

from the Republic of Moldova

Theatre Director

I really liked how the book kept me hooked to know what is next, in my opinion the best quality of a book is to intrigue and keep the reader engaged which The Paper Boat really did.

I loved the fact that it would talk about big things like life, love, death but you would not feel it unpleasant. It was like a light sort of philosophy that it does. Below are some examples to show what I mean which I really liked a lot. It is talking about big things by taking the details or simple stuff.

I think the parts are very well tied together, I loved the beginning and also the end, the end is always particularly tricky to get. I liked the leaps into the past or other people's stories, like for example from being in Lagos to telling some stories from Cyprus or Moldova, introducing other characters that are not present in the book's action. Also the story about the other "vulture" when talking about Teddy was greatly introduced. This makes the story sound like people normally think and talk, in a dynamic way and not really linear. I like this.

I liked the poetic / philosophic parts the part about the "tree of life", which are like little prose poems, that fit very well in the story. Personally I would like even more of these in the next book, stuff that makes you feel, taste things in an unusual way.

I felt that the part about Isa and the farm in Portugal and the kids was kind of short, amd the jump to the next part of the story, Moldova, was kind of abrupt as if something was missing. I am not sure if it was because I knew many stories which were not in the book or why but it felt like jumping very fast at that point. Until then the story took its time but then it made a leap. But quite likely most readers will not notice this.

What I like in many books and I found it here as well is the interaction with history or culture of other places, so you learn about stuff and get immersed without feeling as being in a lesson. I learnt interesting stuff about Cyprus, Ireland and so on. I would love a book located in a different time which would give some insight in that time but still make the reader purely enjoy the story.

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‘We close our eyes and listen. The sounds take us through the window of hope and into the field of all
possibilities. And in that field, we search the grounds for shade and we find the tree of life. We lie at its
roots and it tells us of the beginning of time, and of its ending, and of all that can be found beyond it. We hold hands and then I stand up next to the tree and place my spine against its trunk. Others come
and lie down on the golden grass. I begin telling stories. Not mine, not anyone’s. Stories like ...’

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’Working with tomatoes is tricky; they are very fragile. It pains me every time I break a tip off a plant. Not
wanting to damage them makes me more aware of my hands, of my work, of my movements, of what I
am actually doing. I am therefore more present, more aware, and this in turn teaches me how to be
kinder. I observe myself becoming softer — in my way of handling the plants but also in my interactions
with the world around and inside me. Working with the earth is such an honor. To care for it and let it
teach me its ways feels of much greater significance than I could have ever anticipated or imagined. Earth doesn’t waste time.’

Raluca,

40 y.o.

from Romania,

Solutions Manager

Cristina’s novel, The Paper Boat, took me on a truly thought-provoking journey of homecoming. She invites us to follow Zonja, exploring her adventures across Portugal. Cristina’s playful writing, full of unexpected twists and events, makes The Paper Boat a highly enjoyable read.

What might initially seem like a lighthearted story about a young, life-loving, and curious writer soon reveals itself to be a work of immense depth. Zonja’s / Cristina’s story evoked deep emotions in me, reminding me of life’s essential elements: human connections, a curious openness toward the unknown, and the small joys of everyday life. More importantly, The Paper Boat challenged me to step outside my comfort zone and reflect on some of life’s most fundamental and at the same time uncomfortable questions: Who am I, truly? And what do I want to experience in this life? 

I think, the novel’s uniqueness is in its masterful portrayal of the main character, Cristina/Zonja. Cristina does this by intertwining the memories of her younger self growing up in Moldova, reflections of an older Cristina traveling the world, and the adventures of Zonja.

These different selves of the same person draw a portrait of someone unafraid to experiment, engage with life’s surprises, and most importantly, reflect on the ways these experiences transform her. Cristina takes us on a journey of finding home, of self-discovery—one that involves facing her deepest fears, embracing the parts of herself she had locked away, and confronting her shadows.

Cristina took me on a wild and magical journey. I only wish the book had been longer, as she introduces us to many fascinating characters and events that have so much potential for further exploration.

Greta,

41 y.o.

from Romania

Social Anthropologist

The Paper Boat is an intense and messy road of experiences, one where you may recognize fragments of yourself or feel unsettling familiarity. Some parts flow easily, while others are chaotic—so chaotic that you hope they are fiction or wonder, though deep down, you know they reflect the harsher realities of life. The book's rhythm shifts constantly, moving between comfort and discomfort, intensity and ease, keeping you engaged but never truly settled.

I have to admit that at times, it was overwhelming. I found myself wishing for a simpler, more digestible read, with easy concepts to sit with—but that was never the author’s intention. Instead, the book forces you to confront the messiness, to wade through it rather than escape it.

The ending stood out to me. The idea that different choices could have led to different outcomes resonated, perhaps because I have softer edges. Yet, despite its heaviness, the book brings important awareness to the presence of vultures and predators in the characters’ journeys. It’s not an easy read, but it’s an impactful one.

Xenia Mateiu

38 y.o.

from Romania

Business Owner