November review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: The Law of Love by Laura Esquivel (Translation Margaret Sayers Peden), 1995. [book set in Central or South America, written by a Central or South American author category]
Boo. I didn't finish reading The Law of Love. I got 20 pages in and was pretty mad/uncomfortable, so I decided to just put it aside and spend my precious reading time on something else. I tried. It was touted as a Mexican Midsummer Night's Dream, but the half-page diatribe about souls filling each other like a man filling a woman, like the only way to be truly whole was heteronormative, penetrative sex, and I just didn't like it. Maybe I'm being a little too obtuse, a little too reactionary, but if that was my visceral response after 20 pages, I don't think I'd be able to make it through the rest of it. If 2017 has taught me anything, it's that I don't need to hold on and slog through something that doesn't give me joy or teach me something positive. There is too much other, meaningful work to get through to waste time on something I am not going to get anything out of.
Thursday, November 30, 2017
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
OCT - I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
October review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, 1969. [classic by an author of color category]
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings is a beautiful book. I'd read portions of it in school over the years, but I'd never had the chance to sit down and read it in its entirety. I love the relationship that Maya Angelou has with language, and it was thrilling to see that develop on the page as she told her own story. It details her tumultuous childhood, the many trials and tribulations that hardened her against the world and how she freed herself from them. She tells of being shuffled around from house to house, the sexual assault she experienced when she was barely old enough to know what it was, the race relations in the various places she lived.
Maya Angelou is a strong, phenomenal woman, and her story remains a classic across the years. I would argue that it is particularly appropriate in today's societal climate, with the groundswell behind sexual assault survivors and women of color, two groups that have been systematically denigrated for decades. I feel that I came to this book at an appropriate time, and while the year of awareness has been great, it is long overdue and needs to be amplified. I hope in some small way to contribute to that amplification.
Maya Angelou is a strong, phenomenal woman, and her story remains a classic across the years. I would argue that it is particularly appropriate in today's societal climate, with the groundswell behind sexual assault survivors and women of color, two groups that have been systematically denigrated for decades. I feel that I came to this book at an appropriate time, and while the year of awareness has been great, it is long overdue and needs to be amplified. I hope in some small way to contribute to that amplification.
OCT - A Knight To Remember
October review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: A Knight To Remember by Bridget Essex, 2014. [LGBTQ+ romance novel category]
We were pretty pumped to find a cheesy lesbian romance novel to read on our road trips, but we were a little disappointed in this one. First of all, the premise is that this woman has been with her partner for FOUR years and they haven't moved in together? What? It was hard to suspend our disbelief for that, but we managed.
OK. General Rundown. A Knight To Remember is about Holly, a lesbian librarian (lesbrarian?) who is in an unhappy relationship with a terrible woman who loves her cell phone and her startup more than her girlfriend. After a disastrous evening at the Renaissance Fest, Holly finds a mysterious and magical lady knight in her backyard during a storm and falls for her immediately--because she sounds pretty awesome. Turns out Virago (the knight) accidentally came here from her world while fighting a beast, which also happens to be here, and so they have to find it and finish it off. Just your typical romance quest. (Keep in mind that Virago is pretty much everything Holly has ever wanted in a woman but was so OK with settling that she never thought to look for. And she's still *technically* dating that other woman.)
So. I really wanted to like this book. I think it could've been so good. It had all the trappings! But I had to wait 236 pages for even a damn kiss, which is not something I look for in a romance novel. Also, I'm unsure anyone proofread this book, or told the author that when she found a phrase she liked, she probably shouldn't use it eight more times in the span of two pages. (I had writer problems with this book.) There is a happy ending and a relatively accurate and female gaze-centered sex scene, although only one. Maybe sometime I'll get drunk and judgey and read the sequel?
OK. General Rundown. A Knight To Remember is about Holly, a lesbian librarian (lesbrarian?) who is in an unhappy relationship with a terrible woman who loves her cell phone and her startup more than her girlfriend. After a disastrous evening at the Renaissance Fest, Holly finds a mysterious and magical lady knight in her backyard during a storm and falls for her immediately--because she sounds pretty awesome. Turns out Virago (the knight) accidentally came here from her world while fighting a beast, which also happens to be here, and so they have to find it and finish it off. Just your typical romance quest. (Keep in mind that Virago is pretty much everything Holly has ever wanted in a woman but was so OK with settling that she never thought to look for. And she's still *technically* dating that other woman.)
So. I really wanted to like this book. I think it could've been so good. It had all the trappings! But I had to wait 236 pages for even a damn kiss, which is not something I look for in a romance novel. Also, I'm unsure anyone proofread this book, or told the author that when she found a phrase she liked, she probably shouldn't use it eight more times in the span of two pages. (I had writer problems with this book.) There is a happy ending and a relatively accurate and female gaze-centered sex scene, although only one. Maybe sometime I'll get drunk and judgey and read the sequel?
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
SEPT - Patsy Walker A.K.A. Hellcat! #1 Hooked on a Feline
September review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Patsy Walker, A.K.A. Hellcat! #1 Hooked on a Feline by Kate Leth and Brittney Williams, 2015. [superhero comic with a female lead category]
I. Love. Kate. Leth. I was introduced to her through Buffering the Vampire Slayer, a podcast where two fantastic women who happen to be wives watch and discuss every episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and ever since then, I've been obsessed. Kate Leth wrote the story for this new run of Marvel's Hellcat, and it is just a blast. Patsy Walker, A.K.A. Hellcat! #1 Hooked on a Feline revamps Patsy Walker, aka Hellcat, whom most people today might know from Netflix's series Jessica Jones. But this Patsy is a very different one from the gritty MCU bombshell played by Rachael Taylor (and her name isn't Trish). This Patsy is a superhero who needs a job and an apartment but she lives in NYC so it's difficult. She wants to start a temp agency for superheroes so they can use their powers for good, and she's got some superpowered friends on the line to help her out. She tries to find a job, and lands at the One Stop Crop Top Shop in the mall, a place that I wish was a real thing (Kate Leth, quit playing games with my heart!). The first volume of Hellcat follows her in medias res, trying to craft a relatively normal life for herself, but a bygone foe has other plans. I really enjoyed this first installment. I love Kate Leth, and I can't wait to finish her other feel-good Hellcat stories.
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| I want to go to there. |
Thursday, November 9, 2017
SEPT - Redefining Realness
September review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Redefining Realness by Janet Mock, 2014. [book where a character of color goes on a spiritual journey category]
Remember when I mentioned sometimes I stretch the categories a little? This is another one of those times. Janet Mock never refers to her life as undergoing a "spiritual journey," but it seems to me that any journey of self-discovery may qualify as spiritual. I identify as a relatively spiritual person, believing in the universe and something Else out there that gives us meaning, and finding out how we as individuals fit in is highly spiritual to me. But I digress, slightly.
Redefining Realness is Janet Mock's story, about growing up multiracial, poor, and trans in America. It follows her from her youth to the winter of her gender confirmation surgery. She calls on a number of black women role models such as characters from Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God and the poet Audre Lorde. Janet is raw and holds very little back as she embarks on telling her story, her journey to come to terms with her self and her changing world. Realness as a concept is very particular to humanity, it's just easier for cis people: being Real or being true to oneself makes no waves when you exist comfortably within the lines of the societal binary, but when you exist, as Janet does, in a differently-viewed space, being Real becomes a thousand times harder.
Janet Mock learned early on that she could live her Truth with a capital T and fought hard for her right to get it. I loved reading her story, although I hate that some of the decisions she had to make were necessary. I have a few trans friends, and they have relayed to me the difficulty of simply existing as a transperson, and I have taken it upon myself as a good ally to learn and advocate and do better in my own life. Janet Mock is inspiring, and humans like her are working hard all over to make this country better: with this week's election, a huge number of trans*folks made history: Lisa Middleton, first transgender person elected to a non-judicial office in California; Andrea Jenkins, first transgender person of color elected to public office in US (Minneapolis City Council); and Danica Roem, first *openly* transgender person elected and seated to a state legislature (Virginia House)--beating out the incumbent who wrote the hurtful trans bathroom bill. People are out there, doing the work, and it is the very least we can do to learn and support them.
Redefining Realness is Janet Mock's story, about growing up multiracial, poor, and trans in America. It follows her from her youth to the winter of her gender confirmation surgery. She calls on a number of black women role models such as characters from Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God and the poet Audre Lorde. Janet is raw and holds very little back as she embarks on telling her story, her journey to come to terms with her self and her changing world. Realness as a concept is very particular to humanity, it's just easier for cis people: being Real or being true to oneself makes no waves when you exist comfortably within the lines of the societal binary, but when you exist, as Janet does, in a differently-viewed space, being Real becomes a thousand times harder.
Janet Mock learned early on that she could live her Truth with a capital T and fought hard for her right to get it. I loved reading her story, although I hate that some of the decisions she had to make were necessary. I have a few trans friends, and they have relayed to me the difficulty of simply existing as a transperson, and I have taken it upon myself as a good ally to learn and advocate and do better in my own life. Janet Mock is inspiring, and humans like her are working hard all over to make this country better: with this week's election, a huge number of trans*folks made history: Lisa Middleton, first transgender person elected to a non-judicial office in California; Andrea Jenkins, first transgender person of color elected to public office in US (Minneapolis City Council); and Danica Roem, first *openly* transgender person elected and seated to a state legislature (Virginia House)--beating out the incumbent who wrote the hurtful trans bathroom bill. People are out there, doing the work, and it is the very least we can do to learn and support them.
Thursday, November 2, 2017
AUG - Hell Hath No Fury
August review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Hell Hath No Fury by Rosalind Miles and Robin Cross, 2008. [book about war category]
I found Hell Hath No Fury: True Stories of Women at War from Antiquity to Iraq buried in a used bookstore years ago, and it sounded just up my alley. Like many books, though, it was relegated to the ever-stagnant, ever-increasing TBR pile, until a challenge such as this provokes me to dig through what I've got.
I was intrigued to read a book about war that focused on women's contributions, both of body and mind, but from the get-go, Hell Hath was difficult to get through. For one, the organization irked me. It was not necessarily set up chronologically, although I did enjoy the different sections on different kinds of contributions to war throughout history. There was just so much information, and it was presented relatively drily, sometimes very repetitively. It felt more like a reference book, which is all well and good but not what I thought I had signed up for. As soon as I got into a particularly juicy or inspiring anecdote, it was time to wrap up and roll onto the next entry. I would've liked some longer time spent on the actual individuals.
This is not to say that I did not like this book, only that I felt it could've been presented better. There were aspects I really liked, especially the fact that the authors they included all kinds of women, not just those historically considered "GOOD." For example, there were spotlights on Nazi officers and Lynndie England of the Abu Ghraib catastrophe. It was good to get a well-rounded cast of characters, but I feel like this book was just that, trying to be *too* well-rounded. I want more specificity, more richness and detail, and it just wasn't possible with the scope of this book. Ultimately I am glad that I have this information now, but it was a bit of a chore to get there.
I found Hell Hath No Fury: True Stories of Women at War from Antiquity to Iraq buried in a used bookstore years ago, and it sounded just up my alley. Like many books, though, it was relegated to the ever-stagnant, ever-increasing TBR pile, until a challenge such as this provokes me to dig through what I've got.
I was intrigued to read a book about war that focused on women's contributions, both of body and mind, but from the get-go, Hell Hath was difficult to get through. For one, the organization irked me. It was not necessarily set up chronologically, although I did enjoy the different sections on different kinds of contributions to war throughout history. There was just so much information, and it was presented relatively drily, sometimes very repetitively. It felt more like a reference book, which is all well and good but not what I thought I had signed up for. As soon as I got into a particularly juicy or inspiring anecdote, it was time to wrap up and roll onto the next entry. I would've liked some longer time spent on the actual individuals.
This is not to say that I did not like this book, only that I felt it could've been presented better. There were aspects I really liked, especially the fact that the authors they included all kinds of women, not just those historically considered "GOOD." For example, there were spotlights on Nazi officers and Lynndie England of the Abu Ghraib catastrophe. It was good to get a well-rounded cast of characters, but I feel like this book was just that, trying to be *too* well-rounded. I want more specificity, more richness and detail, and it just wasn't possible with the scope of this book. Ultimately I am glad that I have this information now, but it was a bit of a chore to get there.
Thursday, October 26, 2017
AUG - Hidden Figures
August review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly, 2016. [book where all POV's are people of color category]
Sometimes, I take a little liberty with the categories with which I am presented, in order to take advantage of the plethora of books I already have in my collection. This is one of those times. Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race is told in the third person, so it is not necessarily one with points of view, per se, but I took it to mean focus, also, and while this book discusses some of the white people of the era, it is primarily centered around the black ones. It is the story of the uncelebrated black women of NASA in the 1960s, the ones who worked tirelessly (and many times without proper acknowledgement or celebration) to push America into the Space Race as a contender. The film centers on three of these women, Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughn, and Mary Jackson, brought vivaciously to life on the silver screen this year by Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, and Janelle Monae, respectively. These three women work in West Computing (the historically black section of the computing tasks), although they branch out into their respective specialities. In the film, each woman faces the prejudices and barriers of her job with a stoic outlook and works determinedly to further her career goals.
I am glad the film expanded on these three particular women, as I have always resonated more with historical stories than with memorizing dates and cold-cut facts, and it was an opportunity for me to delve a little deeper into these important historical figures. Seeing how Katherine Johnson made the vital calculations for John Glenn's orbit, how Dorothy Vaughn taught herself Fortran in order to stay current and useful in the increasingly technological age, how Mary Jackson fought to go to school to become one of the first black female engineers of NASA--these windows into their lives showcased a small part of the greater good that black women have contributed to aeronautical science since the Space Race began. The book is incredibly detailed, which is thrilling to have such a plethora of new information, but the film complements it nicely, pulling out three particular stories that bolster the idea strongly.
The film Hidden Figures won Best Fight Against the System at the #MTVAwards this year. I think this is an important award; it was recently added to the Awards, rebranded from categories like Best Fight (movie awards) and Video With A Political Message (VMAs). Hidden Figures' award was presented by Rep. Maxine C. Waters, who made sure the audience knew that everyone has a role in making society better. I really enjoy the awareness that is cropping up with projects like this. Bringing stories like this to light is a huge deal, especially in the current (toxic) political climate, and I hope these stories continue to gain steam and build a platform for their previously unheard voices.
Sometimes, I take a little liberty with the categories with which I am presented, in order to take advantage of the plethora of books I already have in my collection. This is one of those times. Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race is told in the third person, so it is not necessarily one with points of view, per se, but I took it to mean focus, also, and while this book discusses some of the white people of the era, it is primarily centered around the black ones. It is the story of the uncelebrated black women of NASA in the 1960s, the ones who worked tirelessly (and many times without proper acknowledgement or celebration) to push America into the Space Race as a contender. The film centers on three of these women, Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughn, and Mary Jackson, brought vivaciously to life on the silver screen this year by Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, and Janelle Monae, respectively. These three women work in West Computing (the historically black section of the computing tasks), although they branch out into their respective specialities. In the film, each woman faces the prejudices and barriers of her job with a stoic outlook and works determinedly to further her career goals.I am glad the film expanded on these three particular women, as I have always resonated more with historical stories than with memorizing dates and cold-cut facts, and it was an opportunity for me to delve a little deeper into these important historical figures. Seeing how Katherine Johnson made the vital calculations for John Glenn's orbit, how Dorothy Vaughn taught herself Fortran in order to stay current and useful in the increasingly technological age, how Mary Jackson fought to go to school to become one of the first black female engineers of NASA--these windows into their lives showcased a small part of the greater good that black women have contributed to aeronautical science since the Space Race began. The book is incredibly detailed, which is thrilling to have such a plethora of new information, but the film complements it nicely, pulling out three particular stories that bolster the idea strongly.
The film Hidden Figures won Best Fight Against the System at the #MTVAwards this year. I think this is an important award; it was recently added to the Awards, rebranded from categories like Best Fight (movie awards) and Video With A Political Message (VMAs). Hidden Figures' award was presented by Rep. Maxine C. Waters, who made sure the audience knew that everyone has a role in making society better. I really enjoy the awareness that is cropping up with projects like this. Bringing stories like this to light is a huge deal, especially in the current (toxic) political climate, and I hope these stories continue to gain steam and build a platform for their previously unheard voices.
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
National Coming Out Day
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| Feminist Apparel |
Today, October 11, 2017, is National Coming Out Day. I have a lot of feelings about National Coming Out Day. I have happy feelings because I love seeing the diversity and strength of this community that I have found. I am an out queer woman who is engaged to another woman and has had past relationships with both men and women. I am proud that I can say that and not fear for my job or my personal relationships, but I know that it is not always the case.
I never really "came out" to my parents in any official way. I had broken up with my then-boyfriend of five years, and I just sort of intimated that I had a new crush, and that this one was maybe sorta on a girl. My parents took it in stride, not getting bogged down with "well, what do you call yourself now" or "what has changed to make this a thing," two of the most tired and sad questions anyone can face when they opt for such vulnerability. Because honestly, I didn't know what I was calling myself but I knew that I had always sort of been that way. I had just been conditioned to ride the hetero train and didn't necessarily question the broader implications until recently.
I am incredibly lucky to have had a mind-blowingly supportive family and friend structure who has made this shift in my life not such a big deal. The thing about that is, not everyone has that option. Some people can't come out or won't come out or do not want to come out. The thing about "coming out" is that it assumes that out is the norm, the good, the appropriate place. It reinforces the idea that there is a norm--generally cis and hetero--and if you do not fit that norm, if you are something "other," you are required to disclose that, over and over again, to the world. In Cameron Esposito's Queery podcast this week, she talked to Rebecca Sugar (creator of Steven Universe, the best queer show on TV), who is an out bisexual. Cameron makes the analogy of going to a bagel shop and ordering two bagels, to which the worker responds, heteronormatively, "Oh, takin one home for the boyfriend?" There are two options: One, you are disingenuous and play along, getting through the interaction; or two, you essentially come out to this bagel shop worker even though this information has nothing to do with the completion of your interaction. Because coming out is not just one single thing. As a friend pointed out today, you don't just automatically get a rainbow above your head from then on to denote you as LGBTQIA+ like the Sims. The choice to come out and live authentically is constant and heart-wrenching and complicated.
Saturday, August 12, 2017
JUL - Interview with the Vampire
July review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice, 1976. [debut novel category]
Interview with the Vampire is a weird book. Conceptually, I like it, as I like frame stories and I like vampires and I like surprise queerness, and this book represents a sort of paradigm shift in terms of vampire representation in literature, but it was a little hard to read. Overall, I am glad to have read it (as I am with most books, let's be real).
The frame story in Interview With The Vampire is an excellent one; the vampire Louis is recounting the tale of his life to a reporter in a hotel room in modern-day California, I believe. (Modern-day being contemporary of when the book was written, the 1970s). We are limited in our learning in two ways. We only learn about the vampire's life through him telling the reporter, and we only learn about vampires in general as Louis does in his story, being a new vampire. By not giving us too much information and letting all the knowledge come organically, Rice is simulating Louis experience and his quest for knowledge in our quest of reading about it.
Anne Rice is quoted as dealing with themes of "death, immortality, existentialism, and the human condition," which I think is an accurate assessment of what she was trying to do with Interview. I mentioned before that this book has been heralded as a paradigm shift in vampire lit, but it was also a shift in vampire mythos itself, establishing new rules for vampire creation and life. The vampires in Rice's novel are not pure cardboard cutouts of evil, scary monsters that go bump in the night. Centering this story around the creation and experience of one particular vampire lends a relatability to the vampires, an empathizing that was previously not seen. She paved the way for vampires to be characters and not simply vehicles of terror. It is perhaps the first time we are privy to the misunderstood vampire, the outcast and outlier nature, cut off from a sense of community, aspects that can be quite easily drawn in connection with current queer struggles. Of course, most queers don't need the blood of humans for sustenance, though.
And that is one thing I want to make sure I touch on, the queerness of it all. I saw the film version of Interview a very long time ago, and I don't really remember all of the movie, but I appreciate the fact that this reviewer said that it was NOT "de-gayed." Louis spends most of his time searching for a community, for someone or something to make him whole and to help him understand what he is. There are strong echoes of the queer experience in that search, and he seems to find a semblance of answers in another (male) vampire named Armand. There is a sensual almost-kiss in the film between Armand (Antonio Banderas) and Louis (Brad Pitt), and I think that is very important.
Interview with the Vampire is a weird book. Conceptually, I like it, as I like frame stories and I like vampires and I like surprise queerness, and this book represents a sort of paradigm shift in terms of vampire representation in literature, but it was a little hard to read. Overall, I am glad to have read it (as I am with most books, let's be real).
The frame story in Interview With The Vampire is an excellent one; the vampire Louis is recounting the tale of his life to a reporter in a hotel room in modern-day California, I believe. (Modern-day being contemporary of when the book was written, the 1970s). We are limited in our learning in two ways. We only learn about the vampire's life through him telling the reporter, and we only learn about vampires in general as Louis does in his story, being a new vampire. By not giving us too much information and letting all the knowledge come organically, Rice is simulating Louis experience and his quest for knowledge in our quest of reading about it.
Anne Rice is quoted as dealing with themes of "death, immortality, existentialism, and the human condition," which I think is an accurate assessment of what she was trying to do with Interview. I mentioned before that this book has been heralded as a paradigm shift in vampire lit, but it was also a shift in vampire mythos itself, establishing new rules for vampire creation and life. The vampires in Rice's novel are not pure cardboard cutouts of evil, scary monsters that go bump in the night. Centering this story around the creation and experience of one particular vampire lends a relatability to the vampires, an empathizing that was previously not seen. She paved the way for vampires to be characters and not simply vehicles of terror. It is perhaps the first time we are privy to the misunderstood vampire, the outcast and outlier nature, cut off from a sense of community, aspects that can be quite easily drawn in connection with current queer struggles. Of course, most queers don't need the blood of humans for sustenance, though.
And that is one thing I want to make sure I touch on, the queerness of it all. I saw the film version of Interview a very long time ago, and I don't really remember all of the movie, but I appreciate the fact that this reviewer said that it was NOT "de-gayed." Louis spends most of his time searching for a community, for someone or something to make him whole and to help him understand what he is. There are strong echoes of the queer experience in that search, and he seems to find a semblance of answers in another (male) vampire named Armand. There is a sensual almost-kiss in the film between Armand (Antonio Banderas) and Louis (Brad Pitt), and I think that is very important.
JUL - Murder on the Orient Express
July review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie, 1934. [published between 1900 and 1950 category]
Murder on the Orient Express was written in 1934 by Agatha Christie, originally published as "Murder in the Calais Coach." It is one of the infamous Hercule Poirot mysteries, an indefatigable detective with an equally indefatigable mustache that Christie relied heavily on for many of her mysteries. The premise is this: Poirot finds himself on a train where there has been a murder. The train is snowed in on the tracks, creating a sort of locked-room scenario that Poirot is tapped to solve, given his apparently widespread reputation. I found a helpful link that gave me some little annotations to help immerse myself in the story more. Being written and set in the 1930s, there were some accouterments I was less than familiar with, such as a slip coach, as well as some untranslated French.
I like Agatha Christie's writing style, and I think she sort of gets a bad rap for being a terrible writer, which I do not believe to be the case. She is one of the few mystery writers that I can content myself with just reading and absorbing as I go, not trying to figure out the answer to the mystery before it happens. She lets me wait, and my overactive brain appreciates that. This story has been called "one of the most ingenious stories ever devised," and it has had many a cultural reference spinoff in its time. The fact that (SPOILER) all 13 passengers were involved in planning and committing the murder, leaving Poirot again and again to the same impossible conclusion with contradictory stories and evidence, is a highly clever one. I think the movie Hot Fuzz took that approach into consideration when writing, and I really enjoyed it. It turns the idea of a singular solve, a singular villain, on its head and forces the reader to go back and rethink the story.
In terms of the upcoming film, I have some feelings. First and foremost that I object to the casting ofJudi Dench as Princess Natalia Dragomiroff, not because of Judi Dench (because she is a goddess), but because there is constant references to the Princess as "one of the ugliest old ladies [Poirot] had ever seen. [...] an ugliness of distinction--it fascinated rather than repelled" (p25). She is also referred to as having a yellow, toad-like face and I resent this connection to Dame Judi! That being said, I do look forward to seeing Kenneth Branagh and his ridiculous mustache solve this crime on the silver screen this November.
Monday, July 17, 2017
JUN - Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe
June review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz, 2012. [YA by an LGBTQ+ author category]
First of all, let me just say how glad I am that this is a category, and in addition how glad I was that I had options for my choice. I read a few queer-adjacent texts in my youth, but nothing that really spoke to me and prodded at the little place inside me that would fire up later. I ended up choosing Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe on a close friend's recommendation; I had originally thought of choosing a lesbian or bisexual girl's story, as that is more my narrative, and I might've been able to see how I would've reacted reading it when I was YA myself, but I ultimately decided to move outside of my narrative and read about two high school boys who fall in love.
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe is about Ari (short for Aristotle) and Dante and the summer they meet. They are, in most every respect, total opposites, but somehow they forge a bond between them. The story is entirely from Ari's perspective and follows his life both with and without Dante, once Dante moves to Chicago for 9 months. It was a nice read, primarily internal monologue that I didn't hate from a 16 year old boy. During one of their early hangs out in the desert, Dante brings his telescope and they look at the stars, and Dante whispers, "Someday, I'm going to discover all of the secrets of the universe." The title phrase becomes a refrain in Ari's mind throughout their relationship, an idea he returns to again and again throughout his recovery and maturation. I think the most bold-strokes answer to the secrets of the universe is unequivocal love, and I am so glad that the author, Benjamin Alire Sáenz, was able to stop being afraid and share it.
There wasn't one big brilliant revelatory "I AM GAY" moment, just a collection of feelings. In fact, it is Ari's parents who gently assert that he has fallen in love with Dante at the end of the book; it is their words, not his own, that prompt him to go find his best friend and kiss him (again). This fits well with my own experience. I had always quietly considered myself a little bisexual, but I was in a committed heterosexual relationship for 5 years with a man, when a woman transferred to my derby league with whom I formed a very deep connection. We were both in relationships (hers with a woman) and I didn't think I was exactly gay, but as time moved on we both came to realize that we couldn't just be friends; there was something more. A whole lot of messiness and heartbreak came after that, things that I hope did not follow for Ari and Dante, but I found my way through and am now in a committed and loving relationship with the woman of my dreams. There was no single flashbulb moment for me when I realized I was in love WITH A WOMAN; it just sort of happened. I am glad that there exists now queer literature by queer-identifying people that can tell that story. I hope to add to that story in my own way, some day soon.
First of all, let me just say how glad I am that this is a category, and in addition how glad I was that I had options for my choice. I read a few queer-adjacent texts in my youth, but nothing that really spoke to me and prodded at the little place inside me that would fire up later. I ended up choosing Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe on a close friend's recommendation; I had originally thought of choosing a lesbian or bisexual girl's story, as that is more my narrative, and I might've been able to see how I would've reacted reading it when I was YA myself, but I ultimately decided to move outside of my narrative and read about two high school boys who fall in love.
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe is about Ari (short for Aristotle) and Dante and the summer they meet. They are, in most every respect, total opposites, but somehow they forge a bond between them. The story is entirely from Ari's perspective and follows his life both with and without Dante, once Dante moves to Chicago for 9 months. It was a nice read, primarily internal monologue that I didn't hate from a 16 year old boy. During one of their early hangs out in the desert, Dante brings his telescope and they look at the stars, and Dante whispers, "Someday, I'm going to discover all of the secrets of the universe." The title phrase becomes a refrain in Ari's mind throughout their relationship, an idea he returns to again and again throughout his recovery and maturation. I think the most bold-strokes answer to the secrets of the universe is unequivocal love, and I am so glad that the author, Benjamin Alire Sáenz, was able to stop being afraid and share it.
There wasn't one big brilliant revelatory "I AM GAY" moment, just a collection of feelings. In fact, it is Ari's parents who gently assert that he has fallen in love with Dante at the end of the book; it is their words, not his own, that prompt him to go find his best friend and kiss him (again). This fits well with my own experience. I had always quietly considered myself a little bisexual, but I was in a committed heterosexual relationship for 5 years with a man, when a woman transferred to my derby league with whom I formed a very deep connection. We were both in relationships (hers with a woman) and I didn't think I was exactly gay, but as time moved on we both came to realize that we couldn't just be friends; there was something more. A whole lot of messiness and heartbreak came after that, things that I hope did not follow for Ari and Dante, but I found my way through and am now in a committed and loving relationship with the woman of my dreams. There was no single flashbulb moment for me when I realized I was in love WITH A WOMAN; it just sort of happened. I am glad that there exists now queer literature by queer-identifying people that can tell that story. I hope to add to that story in my own way, some day soon.
JUNE - The Bone People
June review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: The Bone People by Keri Hulme, 1984. [set >5000 mi from your location category]
I think The Bone People was recommended to me in college by an intellectual boy on whom I had a quiet (and unrequited) crush, and I transferred it from my mother's bookshelf to my own, but never opened it. I chose it for the "taking place more than 5,000 miles from your location" category, which was surprisingly difficult to decide on! The Bone People takes place in New Zealand, in a tower built by an oddball hermit of a woman,and follows her encounter and subsequent relationship with a decidedly mute child and his Maori foster father. Their relationship becomes incredibly close, with Kerewin slotting in as sort of a confidante/extraparental figure in their twosome, and it becomes increasingly problematic as Joe's volcanic and violent rage becomes more apparent. It was very hard to read this book, once you know what you know about Joe's brutal and violent love for Simon. It is hard to parse the ending, which seems sort of like a dreamy afterthought--I was unsure how the story was going to continue when Kerewin burned down her tower with 100 pages left. I think overall, this book made me engage with the ugliness and I appreciate that.
The Bone People has an incredibly interesting writing style, and Hulme's way with language is unlike anything I've experienced before. Her story jumps around, not from any single voice or point of view, with no discernible or marked shifts in between. We get to hear from introspective Kerewin, mute Simon, and wounded Joe, all characters who cannot or will not voice their inner workings to the world, so we must be privy to them through the narration. I found myself going back, a lot, especially to the amorphous, intentionally vague introductory segments that gathered more meaning as the trio's story progresses, and I like that about a book. One that builds upon itself even in its first reading. In addition, books that have glossaries are my favorite! I feel like I know the teensiest bit of Maori now (although purely in-my-head pronounciation must be atrocious, but still!) and I really appreciated the extra layer of their interactions, seeing how the Maori was used as a sort of code shift between Joe and Kerewin.
For the most part, I think I liked Kerewin. I saw a lot of me in her, particularly in the way she stated that you could learn about a person by the books in their home: "You want to know about anybody? See what books they read, and how they've been read...." (p348). I love this phrase, especially because it focuses not only on the presence of the books in a person's universe, but goes further and examines the level of engagement in that presence. I think it is a beautiful addition to a sentiment I have often expounded upon, one that I will now take for my own. It is one of the things I really loved about Kerewin. I do not understand Kerewin, in many of her actions, but some of the bare bones artistic struggle I can internalize and nod along to.
I think The Bone People was recommended to me in college by an intellectual boy on whom I had a quiet (and unrequited) crush, and I transferred it from my mother's bookshelf to my own, but never opened it. I chose it for the "taking place more than 5,000 miles from your location" category, which was surprisingly difficult to decide on! The Bone People takes place in New Zealand, in a tower built by an oddball hermit of a woman,and follows her encounter and subsequent relationship with a decidedly mute child and his Maori foster father. Their relationship becomes incredibly close, with Kerewin slotting in as sort of a confidante/extraparental figure in their twosome, and it becomes increasingly problematic as Joe's volcanic and violent rage becomes more apparent. It was very hard to read this book, once you know what you know about Joe's brutal and violent love for Simon. It is hard to parse the ending, which seems sort of like a dreamy afterthought--I was unsure how the story was going to continue when Kerewin burned down her tower with 100 pages left. I think overall, this book made me engage with the ugliness and I appreciate that.
The Bone People has an incredibly interesting writing style, and Hulme's way with language is unlike anything I've experienced before. Her story jumps around, not from any single voice or point of view, with no discernible or marked shifts in between. We get to hear from introspective Kerewin, mute Simon, and wounded Joe, all characters who cannot or will not voice their inner workings to the world, so we must be privy to them through the narration. I found myself going back, a lot, especially to the amorphous, intentionally vague introductory segments that gathered more meaning as the trio's story progresses, and I like that about a book. One that builds upon itself even in its first reading. In addition, books that have glossaries are my favorite! I feel like I know the teensiest bit of Maori now (although purely in-my-head pronounciation must be atrocious, but still!) and I really appreciated the extra layer of their interactions, seeing how the Maori was used as a sort of code shift between Joe and Kerewin.
Monday, June 5, 2017
MAY - Cursed Pirate Girl
May review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Cursed Pirate Girl - Vol. I by Jeremy A Bastian, 2012. [all ages comic category]
I was on a quest to the library for more Stephen King, when I happened upon Cursed Pirate Girl and was immediately enthralled by the cover. Sometimes I get nervous, finding a cover I really like, because the art style inside doesn't match. But I was not fooled in such a way by this book! Cursed Pirate Girl is about just that, a cursed pirate girl. It is unclear at first whether this is a self-appointed moniker or there is actually some basis to the claim, but in any rate, it is what we know her by. We are introduced to the world not through her eyes, however; instead we start the story through the eyes of Apollonia, the Governor's daughter, who witnesses a fight between three ruffian boys and a girl on the beach below. Needless to say, the girl trounces the boys, and Apollonia wants to befriend her. The next day, Apollonia meets the girl on the beach to hear the story of the Cursed Pirate Girl, and our heroine comes to light. Not having her as our first point of contact in the book gives CPG a more mysterious air, but it also meant it took a little bit for me as a reader to connect with her. I liked her well enough, sure, but I kept wondering where the governor's daughter ways through force of habit.
Such illustrations lent a feel of entirety to the drawings, with every part of the atmosphere included in the rendition. Jeremy Bastian is a fantastic artist, every page brimming with so much intricacy that you don't really know where to focus your eyes. I had to spend a little extra time before each page turn, just making sure I caught everything. I liked this fun little comic!
I was on a quest to the library for more Stephen King, when I happened upon Cursed Pirate Girl and was immediately enthralled by the cover. Sometimes I get nervous, finding a cover I really like, because the art style inside doesn't match. But I was not fooled in such a way by this book! Cursed Pirate Girl is about just that, a cursed pirate girl. It is unclear at first whether this is a self-appointed moniker or there is actually some basis to the claim, but in any rate, it is what we know her by. We are introduced to the world not through her eyes, however; instead we start the story through the eyes of Apollonia, the Governor's daughter, who witnesses a fight between three ruffian boys and a girl on the beach below. Needless to say, the girl trounces the boys, and Apollonia wants to befriend her. The next day, Apollonia meets the girl on the beach to hear the story of the Cursed Pirate Girl, and our heroine comes to light. Not having her as our first point of contact in the book gives CPG a more mysterious air, but it also meant it took a little bit for me as a reader to connect with her. I liked her well enough, sure, but I kept wondering where the governor's daughter ways through force of habit.
This was a fun little volume. Other reviews I read referred to it as a sort of Alice in Wonderland on the High Seas, a fantastically whimsical and swashbuckling adventure. The Cursed Pirate Girl is on a quest to find her father, the most revered pirate of the fabled Omerta Seas, and this first volume gathers her team around her as she begins her journey. She meets a bird who inhabits a fish so that it can travel to the Seas underwater, a pair of swordfish-headed knight brothers that felt really reminiscent of Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee, and a host of other piratical creatures. I really enjoyed the art style of this book, especially the illustrated sounds, such as the gasp pictured below:
 |
| gaaaaasp (p25) |
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
MAY - The Handmaid's Tale
May review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, 1985. [book you've read before category]
This is my third time reading The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. The first was in a high school class, pleasantly holding the dystopia at arm's length, enjoying the language and the narrative as purely fiction. The second reading was for a college class in 2012, called Women in Myth, and it was during Mitt Romney's bid for president. It was terrifying then, what with the "binders full of women" nonsense, but I never thought it would be MORE apropos than it was at that time. Gag. This, my third time through, comes on the heels of Trump's presidency and subsequent attempt at gutting women's healthcare and reproductive rights. I went back to it because my girlfriend had never read it, and we wanted to watch the new 2017 Hulu adaptation together. The Handmaid's Tale is a supremely important story to read, especially on the shady road our country seems to have turned down, and it makes me happy to see that it's topping the Bestseller lists once again.
The gist of Handmaid's Tale is the story of Offred, a Handmaid in the Republic of Gilead in the not-so-distant future. Women can no longer own property, work, or read, and those that proved fertile before have been re-purposed as Handmaids, a ceremonial surrogate for important Commanders and their Wives. The Handmaid's Tale, a tongue-in-cheek nod to Chaucer with the title, follows Offred from a seemingly unimportant day through her revelations about this new society and what she can do in it.
I am really enjoying the Hulu series thus far. It is visually stunning, the music is perfectly curated, and it is so fulfilling to see Offred brought to life as a little more savvy and a little more fiery than in the book. Elizabeth Moss does a fantastic job of playing this up. I enjoy that we have given Offred a "real" name, one that we can cling to as a part of the time before. I can see that a narrative like Handmaid's Tale would be difficult to recreate exactly, especially if the idea was to have the narrative to continue on for more than one season, and I approve of the way the writers have reimagined some of the narrative, giving voice to more of the characters, rather than relying solely on Offred's experiences. I like Alexis Bledel's Ofglen, the acknowledgement of her sexuality and its place in the fucked up world of Gilead. I look forward to seeing how the showrunners expand on said fucked up world, watching the Handmaids fight against their situation.
Which brings me to the phrase. The rallying cry for three decades' worth of feminists (thanks, Margaret, for the tattoo ideas): Nolite te bastardes carborundorum. Offred finds it in her closet, scratched into the baseboard, and she asks the Commander about it in their nightly Scrabble sessions. It is sort of an in-joke that really only makes sense if you're studying Latin--the joke is that it's sort of a fake Latin-sounding phrase. There are different layers to the in-joke now that Offred has found it and shared it with her predecessor, a circle apart from that in which the phrase was created. It was a taking-back, I like to think, of realms barred to the Handmaids: the realm of female friendship and intimacy, as well as the realm of scholarship and academia.
I am sure I will revisit Handmaid's Tale at another point in my life, hopefully once our government has veered away from its dystopian teachings. It has meant too much to me to be one and done. (Or three and done, as the case may be...) Even though my life is not nearly as hard or as dangerous as Offred's, I take solace in her strength and her fight. I will continue to watch the Hulu series and continue to learn from Gilead. I'll be back. Until then, Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, bitches.
This is my third time reading The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. The first was in a high school class, pleasantly holding the dystopia at arm's length, enjoying the language and the narrative as purely fiction. The second reading was for a college class in 2012, called Women in Myth, and it was during Mitt Romney's bid for president. It was terrifying then, what with the "binders full of women" nonsense, but I never thought it would be MORE apropos than it was at that time. Gag. This, my third time through, comes on the heels of Trump's presidency and subsequent attempt at gutting women's healthcare and reproductive rights. I went back to it because my girlfriend had never read it, and we wanted to watch the new 2017 Hulu adaptation together. The Handmaid's Tale is a supremely important story to read, especially on the shady road our country seems to have turned down, and it makes me happy to see that it's topping the Bestseller lists once again.The gist of Handmaid's Tale is the story of Offred, a Handmaid in the Republic of Gilead in the not-so-distant future. Women can no longer own property, work, or read, and those that proved fertile before have been re-purposed as Handmaids, a ceremonial surrogate for important Commanders and their Wives. The Handmaid's Tale, a tongue-in-cheek nod to Chaucer with the title, follows Offred from a seemingly unimportant day through her revelations about this new society and what she can do in it.
I am really enjoying the Hulu series thus far. It is visually stunning, the music is perfectly curated, and it is so fulfilling to see Offred brought to life as a little more savvy and a little more fiery than in the book. Elizabeth Moss does a fantastic job of playing this up. I enjoy that we have given Offred a "real" name, one that we can cling to as a part of the time before. I can see that a narrative like Handmaid's Tale would be difficult to recreate exactly, especially if the idea was to have the narrative to continue on for more than one season, and I approve of the way the writers have reimagined some of the narrative, giving voice to more of the characters, rather than relying solely on Offred's experiences. I like Alexis Bledel's Ofglen, the acknowledgement of her sexuality and its place in the fucked up world of Gilead. I look forward to seeing how the showrunners expand on said fucked up world, watching the Handmaids fight against their situation.
 |
| Screencap from 2017 Hulu adaptation |
I am sure I will revisit Handmaid's Tale at another point in my life, hopefully once our government has veered away from its dystopian teachings. It has meant too much to me to be one and done. (Or three and done, as the case may be...) Even though my life is not nearly as hard or as dangerous as Offred's, I take solace in her strength and her fight. I will continue to watch the Hulu series and continue to learn from Gilead. I'll be back. Until then, Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, bitches.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
APR - The Geography of Bliss
April review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner, 2008. [travel memoir category]
The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World by Eric Weiner did not disappoint. For my travel memoir, I was looking for something that was not necessarily tied to a single place, but more of an adventure-hopping scenario, and GoB delivers immensely. Weiner recounts his travels to 10 different countries of varying degrees on the happy scale, from the Netherlands to miserable Moldova, attempting to define what about these countries (and their people) makes them happy or not so happy.
My favorite chapter was about Iceland. He mentions an Icelandic saying that goes, "Better to go barefoot than without a book," (p147) and I wholeheartedly agree. Iceland loves its writers and I would love to be loved by Iceland for a time. This book as a whole played once more on my wanderlust, reminded me that I should travel more soon. This time last year, I was returning from Italy, and a few years before that, Israel, and before that, Ireland (wow, my family likes I countries, huh). This year, however, the only traveling I will be doing is for roller derby--and that might end up being pretty extensive, if we end up in Sweden for Playoffs. (But let's pray that does not happen, because no one has money for that.)
I would love to travel and write about my travel. I sort of have, I wrote up my Israel trip for a friend's website but it never took off. I had aspirations of being a photojournalist once upon a time, but decided I was probably too anxious (slash not quite brave enough) for such an occupation.
What do I think about my own happiness? It has definitely skyrocketed in the past year, exponentially increased with my new relationship. My happiness is increased by my girlfriend. My happiness is increased by playing roller derby. My happiness is increased by doing the things I love to do with the people I care about. I think my happiness is connected to where I am inasmuch as I need to be in Ann Arbor for roller derby, but I do think the town itself contributes to my happiness. I like it here. Sure, I'd like a new job, to make a little bit more money, feel a bit more comfortable in my finances, but I would consider myself all around a pretty happy person. It was interesting to think about it in the terms that Weiner investigated over the course of the book, as I don't think I'd ever tried to quantify my happiness before. When all is said and done, I think I would give myself about a 7 or an 8. Always room for improvement, but pretty damn happy.
APR - The Gunslinger
April review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: The Gunslinger by Stephen King, 1982. Dark Tower I. [fantasy novel category]
I've had The Gunslinger on my shelf for years, and since it's being made into a TV series at some point in the near future and my friends are super into that, I figured I should actually finish it. It is Stephen King's quest narrative answer to Lord of The Rings etc etc, the story of an unnamed hero questing after an unnamed foe in purposely vague and ominous-sounding language. It starts in medias res, right in the thick of things, and peppers in flashbacks that are almost indistinguishable from present occurrences. Sometimes I had trouble catching the haft of the story, but I kept moving forward, just like the titular character.
I love Stephen King's writing style, and for the most part, I liked this book. I was more than a little off-put by the obsession with this quote "sexually ravenous" girl that the book preview notes, even though she is only part of the story for like two chapters. I felt icky, this focus on her sexual appetite felt super male-gazey and fetishizing and I was disappointed. You can do better, Stephen.
I got the next two Dark Tower books from the library, and I'm gonna try to slip them in while I bang out my two books a month for this challenge. I've got some time before the TV show starts (can I just say, Idris Elba is dream casting. Perfection.), so I'll see what I can do.
I do want to take a moment to talk about the afterword at the end of my copy, where Stephen King talks about the writing of The Dark Tower stories. He talks about the story needing to remain "alive and viable in [his] own mind," because "if a book is not alive in the writer's mind, it is as dead as year-old horseshit even if words continue to march across the page" (p308). I have often wondered why I haven't been able to go back to a story that I stopped mid-telling, and once again Stephen King has put words to a feeling I was unable to name. I need to find a way back to these stories, to revitalize my muse and get my butt in gear again.
I do want to take a moment to talk about the afterword at the end of my copy, where Stephen King talks about the writing of The Dark Tower stories. He talks about the story needing to remain "alive and viable in [his] own mind," because "if a book is not alive in the writer's mind, it is as dead as year-old horseshit even if words continue to march across the page" (p308). I have often wondered why I haven't been able to go back to a story that I stopped mid-telling, and once again Stephen King has put words to a feeling I was unable to name. I need to find a way back to these stories, to revitalize my muse and get my butt in gear again.
Monday, May 1, 2017
MAR - The Well of Loneliness
March review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall, 1928. [book that has been banned frequently category]
The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall is often hailed as a lesbian classic, and it almost ruined Hall's literary career. It is the story of Stephen Gordon, a wealthy girl born to parents who really wanted a boy and so they kept the only name they'd picked even when their daughter was born. This does not do terribly much damage, as Stephen grows up and is consistently at odds with her ostensible femininity, preferring to dress like a boy, and even coming up with an alternate persona, Nelson, which she puts on to impress one of the house servants (whom 12-year-old Stephen also falls in love with). Offhand references are made to "inversion," a sort of opposite-feeling that a certain outcast set of society feels, and the term "lesbian" is never used once, although Stephen does befriend an undeniably lesbian couple later on in Paris. Well of Loneliness moves through Stephen's childhood and maturation and follows her few romantic relationships with (surprise!) women. It is a thinly veiled corollary to Hall's own life, critics say, hence the ruining-of-her-career bit.
It was banned pretty much instantly--and quite frequently thereafter--because LESBIANS. Never mind that the raunchiest Hall's descriptions of the Sapphic lovers get is "she kissed her full on the lips as a lover." However, recent readings have questioned Well as a lesbian versus a transgender story. Hall does use the term "invert," which seems to refer to an individual that feels sort of the opposite of what they were born to, but as it was published in 1928 and there wasn't really transgender terminology back then, it has often been classified as a purely lesbian story. With the increasing defining space between gender and sexuality in recent years, this becomes a more pertinent question, and I do think the tone of the narrative changes, depending on your opinion of Stephen as a butch lesbian woman or a trans* man. My own personal reading tends toward the latter.
It was banned pretty much instantly--and quite frequently thereafter--because LESBIANS. Never mind that the raunchiest Hall's descriptions of the Sapphic lovers get is "she kissed her full on the lips as a lover." However, recent readings have questioned Well as a lesbian versus a transgender story. Hall does use the term "invert," which seems to refer to an individual that feels sort of the opposite of what they were born to, but as it was published in 1928 and there wasn't really transgender terminology back then, it has often been classified as a purely lesbian story. With the increasing defining space between gender and sexuality in recent years, this becomes a more pertinent question, and I do think the tone of the narrative changes, depending on your opinion of Stephen as a butch lesbian woman or a trans* man. My own personal reading tends toward the latter.
**SPOILER ALERT -- I'm going to complain about the ending. If you're planning to read this book, skip this paragraph please. Or don't, who am I to say?** So. The ending. This entire book feels like an extended lashing of Stephen by the cruel universe, so much so that she internalizes it and begins to lash at herself, her own happiness, by the end. For the latter half of the book, Stephen is in a relationship with a woman called Mary, who she met in the army and has taken into her home as her partner and lover (I suppose, although no specifics were given; 1920s euphemisms, et cetera). Mary begins to have feelings for Stephen's friend (and one-time rejected lover) Martin, and cannot decide between her love for each of them. So Stephen forces her hand, fakes being another woman's lover and sends Mary into Martin's arms for a nice normal happy life. Self-sabotaging at its finest. I was very dismayed at the conclusion of Stephen's story, and it made me wonder if this was the beginning of no happy gay stories in fiction? Kill your darlings, and whatnot? I closed my book and hugged my girlfriend close, thanking whatever Powers That Be that I don't have to sabotage my own happiness.
Ultimately, as Alison Hennegan's introduction reads in my copy, "the very fact of the book's existence was a source of strength." Whichever way you read Stephen, she is revolutionary in her existence. (I use female pronouns because those are the ones used by the author, although it is possible gender neutral would feel more apropos.) I feel like I could spend a lot of time unpacking this book (I can imagine more than a few old professors I'd love to listen to wax poetic about it), but already this post is woefully overdue, and I should most likely cut it short.
Ultimately, as Alison Hennegan's introduction reads in my copy, "the very fact of the book's existence was a source of strength." Whichever way you read Stephen, she is revolutionary in her existence. (I use female pronouns because those are the ones used by the author, although it is possible gender neutral would feel more apropos.) I feel like I could spend a lot of time unpacking this book (I can imagine more than a few old professors I'd love to listen to wax poetic about it), but already this post is woefully overdue, and I should most likely cut it short.
#30/30 - 2017
Unintentional early bedtime
for the last day of April.
Shirking all our Sunday plans
for the warm embrace of each other in our bed.
Laundry not done, poems not written, dinner not made,
but dreams were had.
for the last day of April.
Shirking all our Sunday plans
for the warm embrace of each other in our bed.
Laundry not done, poems not written, dinner not made,
but dreams were had.
#29/30 - 2017
There is a moment that crystallizes
not because of its beauty,
but because of its sheer uncomfortableness.
I do not know what to say.
I am (un)intentionally tangentially the butt of this joke
and I cannot find words to say so.
She is someone I love and care for,
but I can't listen to her talk anymore.
What she says is peppered with unfiltered hurt
unacknowledged and unapologetic.
I have never really had the strength to say,
you are hurting me.
not because of its beauty,
but because of its sheer uncomfortableness.
I do not know what to say.
I am (un)intentionally tangentially the butt of this joke
and I cannot find words to say so.
She is someone I love and care for,
but I can't listen to her talk anymore.
What she says is peppered with unfiltered hurt
unacknowledged and unapologetic.
I have never really had the strength to say,
you are hurting me.
#28/30 - 2017
"writing is easy"
said no one,
ever,
especially not a writer.
Especially not one who has
a thousand tricks to put her mind in the right space,
superstitions from the correct time to the most comfortable place,
the temperature of her drink to the angle of her screen,
the way she folds her legs and the way her glasses gleam.
Awkward rhymes fall out unbidden
and the writer hopes they make sense,
pared of all the ancillary thought-noise
that only exists in the head
bare and clean and black and white
and full.
said no one,
ever,
especially not a writer.
Especially not one who has
a thousand tricks to put her mind in the right space,
superstitions from the correct time to the most comfortable place,
the temperature of her drink to the angle of her screen,
the way she folds her legs and the way her glasses gleam.
Awkward rhymes fall out unbidden
and the writer hopes they make sense,
pared of all the ancillary thought-noise
that only exists in the head
bare and clean and black and white
and full.
#27/30 - 2017
Today, I went to see someone
about some store-bought neurotransmitters.
It turns out,
I function much better with a little
balancing, with a little
chemical modulation,
and that's ok.
It slows the spin of panicked scenario-building,
the paralyzing hypothetical situation analysis,
letting my feet tread more methodically
through my train of thought.
about some store-bought neurotransmitters.
It turns out,
I function much better with a little
balancing, with a little
chemical modulation,
and that's ok.
It slows the spin of panicked scenario-building,
the paralyzing hypothetical situation analysis,
letting my feet tread more methodically
through my train of thought.
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
#26/30 - 2017
Hunger is a constant today.
Lunch eaten, snacks consumed, coffee imbibed,
and still.
I have a habit of opening things
in search of food
when I am bored.
I am like a squirrel that way, I think.
Or is my hunger the squirrel? Following me around
a few paces away--
safe distance--
creeping up when I am still.
Do you have any food for me?
Do you?
Lunch eaten, snacks consumed, coffee imbibed,
and still.
I have a habit of opening things
in search of food
when I am bored.
I am like a squirrel that way, I think.
Or is my hunger the squirrel? Following me around
a few paces away--
safe distance--
creeping up when I am still.
Do you have any food for me?
Do you?
#25/30 - 2017
Fraught with possibility,
he describes the ream of paper that set him on his path,
bright green and overlarge, bidding.
The mute challenge of all that white space,
he says,
and I think I understand.
Possibility can be more paralyzing
than fear.
Potential can spiral wrong oh so quickly,
but if you let it,
that fear can move you too.
Harness the fear
move forward in spite
and go confidently.
and I think I understand.
Possibility can be more paralyzing
than fear.
Potential can spiral wrong oh so quickly,
but if you let it,
that fear can move you too.
Harness the fear
move forward in spite
and go confidently.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
#24/30 - 2017
Somehow, grocery shopping leads to computer buying
You want the one that's shiny, you say.
Your input is purely aesthetic, relying on me
for the rest.
Is this a good one?
I have to reach back
into another life, another relationship, another standard of knowledge
to help us.
The look on your face while I babble tells me
it doesn't matter,
it's a good one.
You want the one that's shiny, you say.
Your input is purely aesthetic, relying on me
for the rest.
Is this a good one?
I have to reach back
into another life, another relationship, another standard of knowledge
to help us.
The look on your face while I babble tells me
it doesn't matter,
it's a good one.
#23/30 - 2017
Guard your eyes against a world that is too bright
for the night you had.
Wrap yourself in white noise and highway rumbles,
ease away the slow knocking on your temples.
Left hand at 12 o'clock on the wheel, right hand lazily tracing a snag in your jeans,
I watch you sleep out of the corner of my eye,
and wish I could cover you with more than just a blanket
as a remedy
for the night you had.
Wrap yourself in white noise and highway rumbles,
ease away the slow knocking on your temples.
Left hand at 12 o'clock on the wheel, right hand lazily tracing a snag in your jeans,
I watch you sleep out of the corner of my eye,
and wish I could cover you with more than just a blanket
as a remedy
#22/30 - 2017
The eloquence with which I respond
is inversely related to
the number of vodka cranberries I imbibe.
So the third time I am asked,
Oh, what position do you play?
I simply respond,
"Girlfriend!"
#21/30 - 2017
I picked daffodil for a spring birthday
and brought it to a friend at a bar.
The daffodil was a yellow starburst, plucked
from my own back garden,
but on my walk with the blossom, I saw others
city-planted, concrete-stunted,
less buttery and more sickly yellow.
I wanted to wear a sign declaring the origin,
so that others would know I did not steal it--
but also, the secret to its vibrancy was me.
and brought it to a friend at a bar.
The daffodil was a yellow starburst, plucked
from my own back garden,
but on my walk with the blossom, I saw others
city-planted, concrete-stunted,
less buttery and more sickly yellow.
I wanted to wear a sign declaring the origin,
so that others would know I did not steal it--
but also, the secret to its vibrancy was me.
#20/30 - 2017
Thinking that
you have to make up for yesterday
is a dangerous line to ride.
There is a line between
endurance and injury,
one we are sometimes too stubborn to acknowledge,
wanting that thing so desperately,
the toll we pay to get there unimportant.
you have to make up for yesterday
is a dangerous line to ride.
There is a line between
endurance and injury,
one we are sometimes too stubborn to acknowledge,
wanting that thing so desperately,
the toll we pay to get there unimportant.
Monday, April 24, 2017
#19/30 - 2017
Some nights are harder than others.
Calves shaking, feet seizing at the wrong moments,
throat throbbing from a rogue shoulder check early on in the scrim,
a penalty assessed two jams too late,
mental toughness off- kilter.
Calves shaking, feet seizing at the wrong moments,
throat throbbing from a rogue shoulder check early on in the scrim,
a penalty assessed two jams too late,
mental toughness off- kilter.
Her foot caught mine
and twisted out my bad knee,
wrenching a cry from my gut.
The jam is called for me, my body betrays
and frustration spills down my cheeks.
Anger, disappointment, and just general pain whirl.
and twisted out my bad knee,
wrenching a cry from my gut.
The jam is called for me, my body betrays
and frustration spills down my cheeks.
Anger, disappointment, and just general pain whirl.
I haven't cried alone in a bathroom like that
before.
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
#18/30 - 2017
A neologism is a made-up word
a placeholder for a feeling
as yet unchristened.
I used to make up words when I was a child,
but I can't remember them, now.
I like to think that I found what I was looking for,
needed a placeholder no longer,
I learned and filled in and rewrote
what before I had created and fever-dreamed and silver-tongued.
I hope that my instinct didn't die
it's just rusted, filmed-over, and geoded.
a placeholder for a feeling
as yet unchristened.
I used to make up words when I was a child,
but I can't remember them, now.
I like to think that I found what I was looking for,
needed a placeholder no longer,
I learned and filled in and rewrote
what before I had created and fever-dreamed and silver-tongued.
I hope that my instinct didn't die
it's just rusted, filmed-over, and geoded.
Monday, April 17, 2017
#16/30 - 2017
lazy Sunday
enveloped by you
painstakingly extricated for Adult Chores
--groceries and yard waste to curb--
before returning, ensconced to my precious you
enveloped by you
painstakingly extricated for Adult Chores
--groceries and yard waste to curb--
before returning, ensconced to my precious you
#15/30 - 2017
Slowly
we are making this place
Ours.
Spring cleaning is feverish and we move
in tandem,
rewriting our space in the plural.
My mattress of more than a dozen years
relegated to the curb,
replaced by yours, newer and more cloudlike.
Cross-stitches reclaimed from previous memories,
made anew by ours.
Coats hung, pictures framed, blankets folded.
This is a new place for Us,
a brand-new space for Us,
moving forward and etching togetherness over the cobwebs.
we are making this place
Ours.
Spring cleaning is feverish and we move
in tandem,
rewriting our space in the plural.
My mattress of more than a dozen years
relegated to the curb,
replaced by yours, newer and more cloudlike.
Cross-stitches reclaimed from previous memories,
made anew by ours.
Coats hung, pictures framed, blankets folded.
This is a new place for Us,
a brand-new space for Us,
moving forward and etching togetherness over the cobwebs.
#14/30 - 2017
I hate leaving you in bed.
It is categorically unfair.
Your eyes barely flutter open as you kiss me good morning,
but your hands are strong as they pull me back down for another,
elbows locking behind my ribs
despite my half-hearted protestations.
Getting dressed is the last thing on my mind.
Your collarbone, bare, catches the shadows of early morning
and I want to lie down there,
wrap myself in your thick dreams and hide.
But the morning won't let me.
I am resigned to my workday, you enshrined in the comforter,
suspended in my mind until I return.
It is categorically unfair.
Your eyes barely flutter open as you kiss me good morning,
but your hands are strong as they pull me back down for another,
elbows locking behind my ribs
despite my half-hearted protestations.
Getting dressed is the last thing on my mind.
Your collarbone, bare, catches the shadows of early morning
and I want to lie down there,
wrap myself in your thick dreams and hide.
But the morning won't let me.
I am resigned to my workday, you enshrined in the comforter,
suspended in my mind until I return.
#13/30 - 2017
Tonight, I return to practice
under the weight of what I learned this weekend.
I must try not to let it stunt me
disappointing as my performance may be,
I must keep skating forward,
toward the next game.
under the weight of what I learned this weekend.
I must try not to let it stunt me
disappointing as my performance may be,
I must keep skating forward,
toward the next game.
#12/30 - 2017
Active alliteration with sounds reinforcing the sense--
a meta-prompt if I ever did see one.
I have always found felicity in active alliteration,
intentional inscribing of matching mouthfeels,
tinkling rhymes triggering rhythms,
calling to mind a song or phrase,
loading it onto the mental record player,
round and round until they sound like words no longer
a meta-prompt if I ever did see one.
I have always found felicity in active alliteration,
intentional inscribing of matching mouthfeels,
tinkling rhymes triggering rhythms,
calling to mind a song or phrase,
loading it onto the mental record player,
round and round until they sound like words no longer
#11/30 - 2017
home again home again
not-so-lickety-split
three planes
three time zones
two layovers and
two travelers, patience worn threadbare
delays and mechanical issues
stomach pains and what-if-it's-lost luggage
we are ready to be home.
I have never been away from you
this long.
Not in our whole relationship.
I can feel my skin twitch with
the nearness of our reunion.
I stretch my legs in the spacious Ford Explorer
impatient to be stretched out next to you once more.
We pull back into the driveway,
I see you waiting on the porch
phone in hand.
My throat catches.
As soon as the car hits Park
I am out the door and across the yard and into your arms
like I never left.
I missed home.
not-so-lickety-split
three planes
three time zones
two layovers and
two travelers, patience worn threadbare
delays and mechanical issues
stomach pains and what-if-it's-lost luggage
we are ready to be home.
I have never been away from you
this long.
Not in our whole relationship.
I can feel my skin twitch with
the nearness of our reunion.
I stretch my legs in the spacious Ford Explorer
impatient to be stretched out next to you once more.
We pull back into the driveway,
I see you waiting on the porch
phone in hand.
My throat catches.
As soon as the car hits Park
I am out the door and across the yard and into your arms
like I never left.
I missed home.
#10/30 - 2017
"What's in there,
you think?" she said,
peering into the cave.
We'd climbed down from the bluff
to Shark Fin Cove,
removed our shoes and set about exploring.
We reversed a waterfall's direction, climbing up
and back into its mouth,
light dimming and water chilling, the farther in we went.
"Monsters, animals, humans, or dead bodies?"
I laughed and shifted closer,
iPhone flashlight doing nothing for the velvety blackness,
taking comfort in closeness
"How about we keep exploring and not find out?"
you think?" she said,
peering into the cave.
We'd climbed down from the bluff
to Shark Fin Cove,
removed our shoes and set about exploring.
We reversed a waterfall's direction, climbing up
and back into its mouth,
light dimming and water chilling, the farther in we went.
"Monsters, animals, humans, or dead bodies?"
I laughed and shifted closer,
iPhone flashlight doing nothing for the velvety blackness,
taking comfort in closeness
"How about we keep exploring and not find out?"
Sunday, April 16, 2017
#9/30 - 2017
Tournament Day Three
Last Game
Hardest Game
There are only fourteen, so
everyone plays.
My feet get tired and jump back in
when they aren't supposed to
and I end up in the box.
Last Game
Hardest Game
There are only fourteen, so
everyone plays.
My feet get tired and jump back in
when they aren't supposed to
and I end up in the box.
Friday, April 14, 2017
#8/30 - 2017
Tournament Day Two
Two games, one day.
One hundred and twenty minutes of
your very best roller derby.
My friend's feet fall apart
so I skate in game two of the day,
feeling progressively better though still
relatively ineffectual.
This is the hardest thing
I have ever done.
I wish my lungs would cooperate and give me enough air
I wish my feet would cooperate and keep moving
I wish my head would cooperate and stay on the track.
My mental game is loosening
like a too-often-used hair tie.
Not the loosening to a perfect wrist fit,
but the loosening to a possible drop off the hand
if I'm not paying too close attention.
I need to work harder.
I need to practice harder.
I need to skate harder.
But I have made a showing
a starting point
and there's nowhere to go
but up.
Two games, one day.
One hundred and twenty minutes of
your very best roller derby.
My friend's feet fall apart
so I skate in game two of the day,
feeling progressively better though still
relatively ineffectual.
This is the hardest thing
I have ever done.
I wish my lungs would cooperate and give me enough air
I wish my feet would cooperate and keep moving
I wish my head would cooperate and stay on the track.
My mental game is loosening
like a too-often-used hair tie.
Not the loosening to a perfect wrist fit,
but the loosening to a possible drop off the hand
if I'm not paying too close attention.
I need to work harder.
I need to practice harder.
I need to skate harder.
But I have made a showing
a starting point
and there's nowhere to go
but up.
Thursday, April 13, 2017
#7/30 - 2017
Tournament Day One
Game One
Roster One
my name is there
black and white for my team to see,
the possibility encompassed
in those ten letters.
My nerves compound my congestion
I wish I was feeling better, clearer.
Deep, slow breaths as I assemble my gear,
strapping it on one velcro at a time.
Until the first whistle blows, I am
self-doubt incarnate
held together by the weight of all I feel
I have to prove.
Game One
Roster One
my name is there
black and white for my team to see,
the possibility encompassed
in those ten letters.
My nerves compound my congestion
I wish I was feeling better, clearer.
Deep, slow breaths as I assemble my gear,
strapping it on one velcro at a time.
Until the first whistle blows, I am
self-doubt incarnate
held together by the weight of all I feel
I have to prove.
Friday, April 7, 2017
#6/30 - 2017
And so begins the travel
two flights and a layover in Phoenix
before reaching our Final Destination.
Public transport always makes me feel
like I can do anything, make it anywhere.
A shuttle to a metro to a bus to a hotel,
to begin the trek to Boardwalk Empire
#5/30 - 2017
The room where it happens
A wooden stage in the theater district
An American musical made flesh and blood and brocade.
Come in from the rain,
come see history (re)made.
The lights dim, your hand in mine,
we take a deep breath and ready ourselves--we know
all the words.
We get to be in the room where it happens
and look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now
you andme, and Hamilton makes three
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
#2/30 - 2017
I relish the look on your face
when you are surprised.
A single tear, TV-actor-slow,
proceeds down your cheek.
You had resolved to go home early,
overtaxed with family birthday dinner,
and then we showed up,
and your face glowed anew.
when you are surprised.
A single tear, TV-actor-slow,
proceeds down your cheek.
You had resolved to go home early,
overtaxed with family birthday dinner,
and then we showed up,
and your face glowed anew.
#1/30 - 2017
Saturday's a rugby day!
Early to the pitch,
cold spring sun unready to warm,
muscles quivering to do it themselves.
I am become Team Girlfriend,
Keeper of the Dogs.
All plans of work dashed,
as I submit to muddy not-quite-lapdogs
and cold sunshine.
Early to the pitch,
cold spring sun unready to warm,
muscles quivering to do it themselves.
I am become Team Girlfriend,
Keeper of the Dogs.
All plans of work dashed,
as I submit to muddy not-quite-lapdogs
and cold sunshine.
#4/30 - 2017
History of a chronic over packer
Over thinker
Over worrier
How many pairs of athletic pants
are too many?
Four jerseys are better than two?
What if it is hot or cold or my bags get lost?
Luckily my thoughts are orderly, able to be set down and paused
and no spinning out
into oblivion, piling and whirlpooling into panic.
Monday, April 3, 2017
#3/30 - 2017
Sometimes, lying next to you,
I can see outside myself.
I see the first time you smiled at me that night
from under your windswept hair and sunburned cheeks.
The blue in your eyes glinting in the fire
when you offered me a ride home, sly smile appleing that burn.
I see the first time your fingers threaded through mine,
and I slip mine through yours in remembrance.
Sitting next to you I can see forward, too,
and I like what I see.
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
MAR - Monday or Tuesday
March review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Monday or Tuesday by Virginia Woolf, 1921. [collection of stories written by a woman]
Virginia Woolf is my favorite. (Fun Fact--my derby name was almost "Virginia Hungry Like The Woolf." But that was too long.) I love when I can discover new things by my favorite authors in conjunction with these prompts, so I was thrilled to be able to read this collection of short stories by Woolf for one of this month's choices. Monday Or Tuesday is a collection of eight stories by Woolf that marks the beginnings of the now-signature Woolf style, published in 1921 before Jacob's Room (1922) and Mrs. Dalloway (1925). It illustrates her discovery of stream-of-consciousness writing and the fluidity of character, each story acting as a sort of example of a type of meandering that she is to explore further in later works. It is notable that this is the only collection of short stories that she published herself.
These eight stories are wonderfully arranged. I think that the way in which they are ordered is essential to mapping Woolf's striving for this new kind of description. The first story, "A Haunted House," spans barely two pages and is relatively straightforward in its traversal. It details a ghost couple moving through the space they once inhabited as living creatures, talking to each other as they observe and think and process. The last story, "The Mark on the Wall," is a fantastic first-person demonstration of stream-of-consciousness, allowing the reader to slip into this woman's sinuous thoughts. It is almost as if through the arrangement of these stories, Woolf is convincing herself of the validity of this new descriptive practice. I, for one, am on board.
Each of the eight stories contains something to delight in, but I think most apropos to me in my current mood is the "delightful, feminist put-down of the male intellect" in "A Society." A group of women were having tea one afternoon, when one of them breaks down because her father, in his will, said that she would not receive her inheritance until she read every book in the London Library (!) and she has discovered that many of them are very, very bad. This revelation causes the women to question everything they know about the fabric of their lives, leading them to create a society meant for asking questions, in order to find out what the world was like. They vowed not to bear another child unto this world until they had all received satisfactory answers from each corner of their investigation. What follows is a savage satire on male bluster and their running of the world. I think Virginia Woolf, if alive today, would be absolutely ruthless in light of current political nonsense, and this story gave me a little hope.
One review I read described this as "Woolf at her liquid best," and I wholeheartedly agree with that characterization. I loved being able to immerse myself in her liquid and not-yet-formed style, rereading paragraphs and reciting them aloud as the words struck me.
These eight stories are wonderfully arranged. I think that the way in which they are ordered is essential to mapping Woolf's striving for this new kind of description. The first story, "A Haunted House," spans barely two pages and is relatively straightforward in its traversal. It details a ghost couple moving through the space they once inhabited as living creatures, talking to each other as they observe and think and process. The last story, "The Mark on the Wall," is a fantastic first-person demonstration of stream-of-consciousness, allowing the reader to slip into this woman's sinuous thoughts. It is almost as if through the arrangement of these stories, Woolf is convincing herself of the validity of this new descriptive practice. I, for one, am on board.
Each of the eight stories contains something to delight in, but I think most apropos to me in my current mood is the "delightful, feminist put-down of the male intellect" in "A Society." A group of women were having tea one afternoon, when one of them breaks down because her father, in his will, said that she would not receive her inheritance until she read every book in the London Library (!) and she has discovered that many of them are very, very bad. This revelation causes the women to question everything they know about the fabric of their lives, leading them to create a society meant for asking questions, in order to find out what the world was like. They vowed not to bear another child unto this world until they had all received satisfactory answers from each corner of their investigation. What follows is a savage satire on male bluster and their running of the world. I think Virginia Woolf, if alive today, would be absolutely ruthless in light of current political nonsense, and this story gave me a little hope.
One review I read described this as "Woolf at her liquid best," and I wholeheartedly agree with that characterization. I loved being able to immerse myself in her liquid and not-yet-formed style, rereading paragraphs and reciting them aloud as the words struck me.
Saturday, March 18, 2017
FEB - When I Was Puerto Rican
February review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: When I Was Puerto Rican by Esmeralda Santiago, 1994. [book about immigration or by an immigrant category]
The second February book I chose for Read Harder is When I Was Puerto Rican, by Esmeralda Santiago, as the "book about immigration or by an immigrant" category filler. When I Was Puerto Rican is not your typical memoir: it starts and stays in the author's past, beginning when she was very young, growing up in rural Puerto Rico and following her through her journey to New York. It is told from a very young point of view, never really alluding to the fact that it is reminiscence, and the reader's comprehension--of the world, of Santiago's story--grows as hers does.
In light of today's political climate surrounding immigration, it was interesting to hear an immigration narrative in the voice of someone who doesn't necessarily understand what it means; When I Was Puerto Rican does not boast a self-aware take until the end. Santiago grew up in the 1950s, in the midst of the push for the Americanization of the Puerto Rican territory, with aid groups coming to distribute food to rural villages and teach them about health and nutrition during the election. I needed to do a little reading on Puerto Rico's history as a supplement to Santiago's story, since it was told through her child's perspective, but it was interesting to note the different perspectives and racial divides Santiago notes upon her move to New York, hearing echoes of current pains.
I enjoyed Santiago's writing immensely, though it was simplistic and relatively easy to digest. I loved her inclusion of Spanish, and I would love to read the text in Spanish at some point.
In light of today's political climate surrounding immigration, it was interesting to hear an immigration narrative in the voice of someone who doesn't necessarily understand what it means; When I Was Puerto Rican does not boast a self-aware take until the end. Santiago grew up in the 1950s, in the midst of the push for the Americanization of the Puerto Rican territory, with aid groups coming to distribute food to rural villages and teach them about health and nutrition during the election. I needed to do a little reading on Puerto Rico's history as a supplement to Santiago's story, since it was told through her child's perspective, but it was interesting to note the different perspectives and racial divides Santiago notes upon her move to New York, hearing echoes of current pains.
I enjoyed Santiago's writing immensely, though it was simplistic and relatively easy to digest. I loved her inclusion of Spanish, and I would love to read the text in Spanish at some point.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
FEB - Texts From Jane Eyre
February review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Texts From Jane Eyre by Mallory Ortberg, 2014. [book about books category]
Texts From Jane Eyre: And Other Conversations With Your Favorite Literary Characters is, in a word, fantastic. I was gifted this little tome for Christmas a few years ago, and I was delighted to read it, not simply because I love everything Jane Eyre, but also because I love the premise, the idea of translating classic stories into a different storytelling format. Mallory Ortberg is the creator of The Toast, a fantastic erstwhile blog for women that created a safe space for free expression in a relatively oppressive online climate. I am always so in awe of women like Ortberg who have found a way to use their voice to chisel away at the world, something I am still working on. Her creativity and drive are inspirational in a nonstandard sort of path, another idea of one emulation of a writer's life.
In her book, Mallory Ortberg takes your favorite literary characters (as well as some unknowns) and imagines how their stories would unfold over text. It is a brilliant way to highlight interaction in a digital age, including missed calls and contact searches in the interactions. Some stories I had to look up, while others I could get the gist of without any research of my own--I thought it incredibly interesting how Ortberg distilled each story, finding the salient parts and poking fun at them in their entries. I found myself consistently stifling laughter in public places as I read, unable to contain my glee. For example:
Just, really, so fantastic. But if I were to lay out all the entries I thought to be hilarious, I would be taking pictures of most of the pages, so I will voraciously suggest that you pick up a copy of your own and get to laughing.
In her book, Mallory Ortberg takes your favorite literary characters (as well as some unknowns) and imagines how their stories would unfold over text. It is a brilliant way to highlight interaction in a digital age, including missed calls and contact searches in the interactions. Some stories I had to look up, while others I could get the gist of without any research of my own--I thought it incredibly interesting how Ortberg distilled each story, finding the salient parts and poking fun at them in their entries. I found myself consistently stifling laughter in public places as I read, unable to contain my glee. For example:
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
JAN - The Case for Books
January review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: The Case For Books by Robert Darnton, 2010. [nonfiction book about technology category]
Books about books! My favorite! A quick one, this, as I'm not entirely sure how to parse my thoughts, but I want to get this out before the month is done. Start the year off right, you know?
The Case For Books is about reading and writing, past present, and future. I wanted this book to be excellent, in-depth, and comprehensive, but of course it was published 7 years ago, so it couldn't be that up-to-date. I enjoyed the cover of my edition, the juxtaposition of old bound book and new electronic reader. As an avid reader, this is a juxtaposition constantly close to my heart.
Darnton wrote a number of essays and tied them together loosely based on the three topics, past, present, and future. starting with the future with an "update" prologue on the future. He has some attractive turns of phrase, and he most certainly knows a thing or two about books, especially the history of publishing and the book trade. That being said, I much preferred his focus on the old rather than the new. The sections on the future were primarily focused around the Google Book Search, and all of them seemed to relay the same information about GBS ad nauseam. I started to get bored with the minutiae. And that is unfortunate, because I do think the future of books and reading is an essential part of our forward propulsion as a society, but it is more than just the Google Book Search. I hope to read an updated opinion on the matter soon, just maaaybe not by Darnton.
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