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! 

JUN - Wide Sargasso Sea

June review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys, 1966. [colonial/postcolonial literature category]

One of the reasons I love challenges like this is that it forces me to read things that have been sitting on my shelf for years but I have not had the impetus to pick up. (There are just so many good books in the world, y'all. And new ones every day!) The category of postcolonial literature listed Wide Sargasso Sea atop many of its lists, and as a retelling of Jane Eyre, I was hungry to delve in. Wide Sargasso Sea tells the untold story of the madwoman in the attic, the woman who exists almost purely as a tragic backstory for Rochester, an eerie element of Jane's life, and an impediment to their relationship. Very rarely is her name even referenced when discussing Jane Eyre: often she is simply "the mad wife," a small sliver that is quickly dealt with, a side story tangential to Jane's. She is a question that has always stuck out to me, and one I was grateful to see someone had attempted to answer.

Postcolonial literature is, simply put, literature written by and about people of formerly colonized countries, and WSS does this twofold: it centers the a character from a postcolonial country (Antoinette Cosway, the mad wife) and is written by a woman of similar background (Jean Rhys is from Dominica). The introduction for my copy of WSS is by Francis Wyndham and notes that this book, while inextricably linked to Jane Eyre, stands on its own: "the Bronte book provided the initial inspiration for an imaginative feat almost uncanny in its vivid intensity." Rhys's reclaiming of Antoinette's story is almost an attempt to undo the colonization of her home and her voice, and she does it impeccably.

I've always loved Jane Eyre, so it was interesting to see a different perspective of that story. In addition, I am a sucker for thought-provoking perspective shifts, so Wide Sargasso Sea has long been a part of my to-be-read pile. I was pitched the book as a retelling of JE from the madwoman's point of view: I therefore did not expect the text to change point of view. The three distinct viewpoints of the story mark three distinct parts of her life: the first-person of Antoinette's childhood, growing up on the island; part two switches to an unnamed man's perspective, assumed to be Rochester upon his marriage to Antoinette and subsequent disillusionment; and part three, told through the eyes of a broken woman taken from her home, Antoinette has become the madwoman and echoes the events that take place in JE. Now, I didn't particularly like Mr. Rochester when I read JE initially--every subsequent re-read makes me question what she sees that allows her to marry him--and this retelling made me dislike Rochester more. He is stubborn and arrogant and self-serving and violent, and his perspective did nothing to quell that or humanize him in any way. His character lacking that humanization again made me examine what it is that I love about Jane Eyre, why I keep going back to it. It is definitely mostly for Jane herself, and for the middle bits. The parts that lead up to her leaving Rochester and coming into her own. In a perfect world, Rhys's novel would mesh with JE, Jane would realize that Rochester is a monster and she would whisk Antoinette away to be cared for like the human that she is. A girl can dream, right?

APR - Children of Blood and Bone

April review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi, 2018. [first book in a new-to-you YA series category]

Children of Blood and Bone is a goddamn revelation. Oh. My. God. Tomi Adeyemi has created a whole new, beautiful world that is actually not that new--it just goes somewhere very little fantasy has gone before. CB&B has been described to me as "Black Panther meets The Last Airbender" (the book jacket actually says "But everything changed when the Fire Nation I MEAN once magic disappeared," so you catch my drift).  Other reviewers can and have done it better, so I will keep my discussion of the throughline of the plot quick, because I have other things I want to focus on in my review.

The land is called Orïsha, clearly and beautifully influenced by African mythology and culture. Orïsha is ruled by a despotic tyrant king who has outlawed magic and made it punishable by death, ensuring compliance through genocide of any active maji and the essential enslavement of their progeny, those who have the capacity for magic but it has not been awakened, the Divîners. These Divîners are visually Othered by their white hair (that doesn't take dye, so there's no passing), and they are routinely treated like third-class citizens. This clear allegory for racism reverberates throughout the book, and it is raw and frank in its dealing with the frustration and violence that engenders. As this NPR review notes, most fantasy is about rebellion, overthrowing an oppressive system that often singles people out based on differences. Caitlyn Paxson notes, "The narrative empowers without preaching, weaving its message deftly into a rip-roaring tale."

In her Author's note at the end of the book, Adeyemi touches on her inspiration for this story, pleading with the reader: "...if this story affected you in any way, all I ask is that you don't let it stop within the pages of this text." She goes on to describe the tragic situational parallels of lives lost and grief in this book with real police brutality against Black folx in our society today. She has crafted a beautiful allegory without being heavy-handed, a call to action couched in a high fantasy, and it is one that we desperately need.

I could talk forever about the imagery and the beautiful writing in this book; the fact that Adeyemi doesn't include a glossary so you have to really read closely and create one for yourself as the story goes on; the inherent matriarchy of the religious structure with the Sky Mother at its peak; the incredible phrase "children of blood and bone" itself. So maybe I'll write another post, after my bestie has read it and we have talked.

One of the most striking things about this book is something that it doesn't come right out and say: virtually every character you are introduced to is Black. Not a half-baked Black stereotype that was clearly only put in to check the "diversity" box for a story. But authentic, three-dimensional characters that are fallible and human and downright compelling. This is truly what representation means. I love this review by Kyndal Wilson from Black Girl Nerds, in which she talks about this more eloquently. She connects to this book in a way that I obviously cannot, as I am a white reader, but I can absolutely appreciate the beauty of this thing Adeyemi has given breath to, and I will do my damnedest to help make sure this book succeeds in making waves. Starting with making every person I know read it. Get in line, folx.