2019 Read Harder

Hello! It is already nearly the end of February and I am still finishing my writing for 2018, shame on me! In any case, a lot has been going on, and I am trying to chug away at it as best I can. In the mean time, I want to make a little note to myself as I introduce the Book Riot 2019 Read Harder Challenge that I will be following again this year.

First of all, I (re)discovered Libby, an app that works with your library card to bring you e-books and audiobooks, and let me tell you that my work life is forever changed with the addition of audiobooks! I have already listened to so many, and it's only February! Because I have such a plethora of options available to me, I have made it a personal little challenge to increase the diversity of what I read, especially in terms of women, queers, and people of color. I have read enough white men for a while, and while a few may sneak back from time to time (looking at you, Stephen King) I want to prioritize other voices this year. I just finished We Were Eight Years In Power: An American Tragedy by Ta-Nehisi Coates (click here for a great review of it), and while it was very heavy, it is very very necessary and I have already stocked my Libby TBR pile with similar books for the coming months. White Fragility, When They Call You A Terrorist, Educated, Shrill, How Long 'Til Black Future Month....titles abound!

BOOK RIOT’S 2019 READ HARDER CHALLENGE

1. An epistolary novel or collection of letters
2. An alternate history novel
3. A book by a woman and/or AOC (Author of Color) that won a literary award in 2018: The Fact Of A Body by Alexandria Marzano-Lesnevich

1. A humor book
2. A book by a journalist or about journalism
3. A book by an AOC set in or about space: Binti by Nnedi Okorafor
4. An #ownvoices book set in Mexico or Central America
5. An #ownvoices book set in Oceania
6. A book published prior to January 1, 2019, with fewer than 100 reviews on Goodreads
7. A translated book written by and/or translated by a woman
8. A book of manga
9. A book in which an animal or inanimate object is a point-of-view character
10. A book by or about someone that identifies as neurodiverse
11. A cozy mystery
12. A book of mythology or folklore
13. An historical romance by an AOC
14. A business book
15. A novel by a trans or nonbinary author
16. A book of nonviolent true crime: Can You Ever Forgive Me by Lee Israel
17. A book written in prison
18. A comic by an LGBTQIA creator
19. A children’s or middle grade book (not YA) that has won a diversity award since 2009
20. A self-published book
21. A collection of poetry published since 2014

As of right now, I have a few books for the challenge under my belt, though I haven't written about any of them yet. I have to get back to my languishing partner, Writing, and treat her with the respect that is her due. It has been far too long!

Happy reading, 2019! 

SEPT - Yellowthroat

September review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: Yellowthroat by Penny Hayes, 1988. [western category]

In order to find a book for this category, I pretty much just googled "lesbian western." And I found Yellowthroat by Penny Hayes, who apparently is the lady who came up with the lesbian western in the first place! Good to know that I started from the beginning. I've always been sort of a purist that way.

Yellowthroat was published by Naiad Press, one of the publishing companies dedicated to lesbian lit (succeeded by Bella Books), and I think I may have gotten a very early edition of the book, because the pages were falling out of the old glued binding by the time I was done. But I love this copy. I love the cover design, I love the simplicity of it. It is what it is, and nothing more. A sentiment Margarita (the bandit) and Julia (the kidnapped) both emulate in their own ways by the end.

The gist of Yellowthroat is a wlw romance, which I am obviously here for. I loved the scandalous description on the back cover for what happens once Margarita's band of bandits is required to take a female hostage back to their camp because one of them is gravely injured: "Once more Margarita's life undergoes drastic changes. Because amid a growing emotional attachment to Julia Blake, she has discovered the unthinkable: a sexual attraction to another woman." GASP. This is exactly what I wanted. Another item of note in the pro column of this review, is that the lady romance is not the climax of the book. So many of the lesbian novels I read climax quite literally with a single sex scene between the two women in the last act of the book. But Yellowthroat subverts that by introducing the attraction early on, and allowing the falling action of the book to be the women coming back together for their happily ever after (once Margarita has stopped being an idiot).

That being said, the ending fixed itself. Throughout the latter half of the book, there was a lot of internal monologue of Margarita's where she denied herself her desire to live out the rest of her life with Julia. She claims she doesn't want to be tied down, but in the next breath talks of how she will most likely marry a man again eventually. The two women start a damn business together and move to a gold mining town and everything is going pretty great when Margarita throws a grenade into everything, saying "sorry I cannot be with you because it doesn't fit what I think my life should look like so bye." I am grateful that the scenes after where Margarita lives by herself in the valley again and berates herself for leaving go by quickly and do not take up nearly as many pages as their time together. I am also incredibly grateful for her finally coming to her senses and returning to Julia, even though she tells herself she's just stopping by as she passes through the town. (No one just stops by in the Old West. It takes too long to get there. It is very clear you wanted to see Julia and kiss her again so just admit it! -- my brain as I read the last few pages.)

But we do get a happily ever after! There is no kill your darlings, return to heteronormativity, or self-denial in this tale! And boy was I happy to get there. I do believe I will be checking out the rest of Penny Hayes's ouvre in the coming months. I do enjoy a woman who knows how to ride a horse...

SEPT - Ash

September review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: Ash by Malinda Lo, 2009. [romance novel by POC category]

I really liked Ash by Malinda Lo. It was a simple retelling, which I always enjoy, but even moreso when they're queer! Because queers deserve fairy tales too. As in, all the fairy tales need to be queered. (Note to self: write queer fairy tales.) It is a reimagining of Cinderella but with faeries and hunters and lady love. As is standard with Cinderella stories, we begin with an overview of Ash's childhood: her mother's illness and subsequent death, her father's distance and remarriage, the tyranny of her new stepmother after her father passes. The one constant throughout all of her trials are the fairy stories her mother used to tell her, as well as a copy of a book of fairy tales her father bought her as a way to remember her mother. She copes with the death of her parents by escaping to the woods at night, trying to find the fairies, and Ash focuses a lot on what it means to love fairy tales, and how you would respond to the opportunity to live in one.

There's a fantastic review in the Los Angeles Review of Books that talks about the positions of women in this universe: the Huntress, Kaisa, at the head of the King's Hunt, Greenwitches responsible for the magic of the land, et cetera. Ash doesn't interact with very many men after her father dies, and the fairy she meets is not necessarily gendered, although she uses male pronouns to describe him. Women abound in Ash's world, and she is constantly trying to see how she is going to fit. She does not think that she has a place in any of these spaces, just a quiet orphan girl with no skills or anyone to back her up. But still she manages to find her way in the world, meeting a faerie and the King's Huntress and moving through it with their influences, conscious or no.

Ash starts to feel "something as yet unnamed" (p202) when she starts spending time with Kaisa, going on hunts and reading together in the sunshine. I absolutely love this phrase, the way it acknowledges the complexities of emotion and budding sexuality. She does not shy away from this, but keeps observing in her small, shy way, and goes to attend the final ball and see Kaisa once again. But, of course, she is thwarted and has to flee the night. Normally I root for the faeries but not when dawning lady love is at stake! Damn faeries...

But everything is alright in the end. And what an excellent ending, may I say!! Happy endings are few and far between for queer tales, and it left me incredibly pleased. I also enjoyed that (spoilers) she didn't have to choose between endings: she submitted to her deal with the faerie who helped her get out, and then she goes to find Kaisa and tells her that they are free to love each other and that she has found a home. I mean, how much more perfect can you get? Not only a happy ending, but one that was actively and determinedly chosen by a young girl who has found her own power in her story.

MAY - Moonstruck

May review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: Moonstruck Vol 1: Magic to Brew by Grace Ellis, Shae Beagle, and Kate Leth, 2018. [one-sitting category]

I read Moonstruck in one sitting, in bed next to my fiance on my birthday morning. I had purchased it from Queen City Bookstore on a derby road trip earlier this year for a number of reasons: because Kate Leth was a contributor, one of the other contributors spelled her name like I do (Caitlin!), it was created by the fantastic Lumberjanes creator, and there are two ladies googley-eyeing each other on the cover. Queer stories with magic in them! What more could you ask for!

I was absolutely not disappointed. "Monsters, romance, and magical hijinks--oh my!" cries the back cover gleefully (and don't think I didn't swoon over that Oxford comma. I did). The blurb continues with a slightly confusing if not entirely-lesbian-appropriate sentence: "But all heck breaks loose when she and her new girlfriend Selena go on a disastrous first date that ends with a magician casting a horrible spell on their friend Chet." Girlfriend and first date in the same breath? I am intrigued. There's a human with snakes for hair on the back! It's rated E for Everyone! Sold.

Chapter One opens right in the middle of the story. More and more I am finding that I fucking love in medias res. It jumps right into the close-up brewing of a cappuccino while two characters discuss how perfect this girl is. The cappuccino almost drops when surprise! horse hands catch it. Bam, magical creatures on page 1. This is Chet, the flamboyant centaur barista, who is listening to our protagonist Julie gush about a girl she likes. So many good things are happening already. Julie is a bookworm, obsessed with a fictional series I can only assume is the magical equivalent of The Babysitter's Club, which also allows for a fun story-within-a-story complete with protagonist commentary on the page. In this world, lots of people seem to be part-animal-part-human, and it is insinuated that Julie is too, but there seems to be some shame around it from the beginning. (Some closeted queer coding, mayhaps.) Turns out Julie is a werewolf, but it's great because Selena is too! And they spend some time working through some of Julie's issues while they work to solve what happened to Chet's butt! (no spoilers...) There are some fun Easter eggs to watch out for, and just a really pure good time.

Moonstruck was so much fun, and I am looking forward to picking up the next collection of issues. I am committed to supporting queer art and artists wherever I come across them, so if you have any suggestions for me, let me know!

NOV - Middlesex

November review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2017: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, 2002. [book set <100 miles from you category]

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides follows Calliope Stephanides, the narrator, who was "born twice." Calliope, or Cal as they come to be known, is a hermaphrodite, born as female-presenting with undeveloped testes inside their body cavity. They grow up female-conditioned, and begin to feel disillusioned with themselves once they hit puberty. They are not growing the way that other girls are growing, and they're really not very sure that they want to, anyway. This story follows them and traces their family history back to what is likely the beginning of their genetic anomaly, the union of their grandparents (who happened to be siblings). Cal narrates the story with an eagle-eye view, inserting their opinions and current story through the weaving of their ancestral tale.

I loved this book. I was consistently wowed by Eugenides' use of language and his storytelling acumen. I know why this book has been recommended and recognized countless times since its publication. I thoroughly enjoyed the narration, the widening and tightening scope of the story as Cal narrates his family history over the years. One of the comments that I read was that this is a book about transitions, and it is very true. There are many transition dichotomies peppered throughout Middlesex, between generations, between families, between jobs, between genders--it is a book that is very focused on the move from one thing to another and how it defines one's identity. As someone who is moving through defining their own identity and understanding the identities of those she loves, I really connected to this theme in the book.

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. 

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.

**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.