DEC - The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

December review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Vol 1: The Crucible by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa and Robert Hack (Artist), 2016. [comic not published by Marvel, DC, or Image category]

Netflix adapted Chilling Adventures of Sabrina last year and I, like many horror fantasy fans, was rightly excited. Kiernan Shipka looked perfect, and I couldn't wait to see Miranda Otto in a new light. Needless to say, I greedily binged the series when it came out and went out in search of the original graphic novel, to really round out my obsession.

The graphic novel is certainly much darker than the Netflix adaptation, killing Harvey instead of his brother, and playing into the trauma surrounding Sabrina's father more deeply with (~spoilers~) his spirit coming back in Harvey's body. I think I liked what the adaptation did, shifting the darkness in certain ways, such as those mentioned above, to make the horror hit a little more closer to home, not as on-the-nose.

One thing I really liked about the graphic novel was the Riverdale crossover: we actually got to see characters from the Riverdale universe come into Sabrina's world (much to their dismay, however), and I look forward to seeing whether that will come into play in the adaptation as well, seeing as the Riverdale TV show is so very popular already.

Reading this copy of Chilling Adventures: Vol I, there was an introduction by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, talking about his process, how he came to the story and how he found the right feel. I absolutely feel like the art style was positively reflected in the Netflix adaptation, and I found it perfectly on-key for the vibe of the story. I look forward to moving further into Sabrina's world, both reading and streaming.

NOV - Nimona

November review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: Nimona by Noelle Stevenson, 2015. [comic drawn and written by the same person]

Nimona is so many things I've always wanted in a graphic novel. Scrappy girl protagonists, magic, upending of the dichotomy of good and evil, magical bureaucracy, and shapeshifting! Plus Noelle Stevenson, the author/artist is like, the coolest (and now she has made She-Ra on Netflix, which is equally rad).

Nimona comes to Sir Ballister Blackheart as a new sidekick and pretty much throws a wrench in all of his plans. Sir Ballister is pretty much the top dog in a magical world that blends magic and sci-fi tech, and he never really gets much done until Nimona shows up. He has to try to teach is protege restraint (she always wants to go around killing people and setting things on fire, which is a bit too far for the cerebral villain Sir Ballister. Nimona is a fiery little girl with a butch haircut and a big mouth who also happens to be a shapeshifter! How incredibly cool would it be to be Nimona?

Nimona and Ballister go on missions, quibble about the level of villainy that is acceptable, and slowly become close. The Good Guy Brigade (I mean, the Institute) employs Ballister's archnemesis, the hero Goldenloin, who has some serious history with our villain. As the story progresses, we learn more and more about the less-good things about the Institute, Goldenloin gets more and more disillusioned with his job sitch, and Ballister and Nimona burrow their way into each others' hearts, and of course the inevitable happens, where they hurt each other and leave, but Sir Ballister works to find her again, and set things right. Nimona deals with such heavy shit in such a completely understandable and accessible manner, even though it is sci-fi, and it is going to be a classic for a long time.

Nimona in a nutshell

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...

AUG - The Revolution of Marina M

August review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: The Revolution of Marina M by Janet Fitch, 2017. [BRICS country category - Russia]


{note--there will be general spoilers...}

The Revolution of Marina M is one of those books whose covers I saw a lot and stuck in my head until I finally picked it out. (Can we talk about the infuriating placement of library bar codes though? Since when is finding somewhere not blocking some cover content so hard??) A straight-backed, red-haired girl in profile, arms folded confidently and fingers splayed as she grips her own arm. This book tells the story of Marina, an upper-class Russian daughter of a government official who is mixed up (as is all of Russia, really) in the 1917 Russian Revolution and the downfall of the tsar. Fitch plots the revolution through the eyes of one sixteen-year-old girl, seeing purely what she sees of the revolution, how it affects her personal bubble, rather than the large-scale international repercussions.

Marina has occasion to be so many different women throughout her own personal revolution. She starts as the socialite and slips into the revolution by supplying her radical best friend with information about her father's dealings. She is a spy and a starving poet and a factory worker and a prisoner and a wife and a con woman and a follower and a revolutionary and an individual. She says often near the end, that she is "tired of Rooms." She goes on to tell how the rooms defined her relationships to the different people, different lovers, different parts of her life. Her childhood apartments and her relationship with her parents; the Poverty Artel where she moves in with her destitute poet lover and sleeps fully clothed and louse-ridden; the room where Kolya, her childhood crush, takes her when he returns and they stay for three nights of sex and food and abandon; the apartment where she is imprisoned by a mobster; the planetarium to which she escapes and spends a summer as a mute peasant girl; the prison where she is taken when picked up by the police; her best friend's room where she gives in and sleeps with a woman to repay her for saving her life; the old country house that she escapes to only to find it has been overrun by her mother's new-age cult friends. Each room is tied to a person: both a person who controls Marina and the person Marina is in that room, and on the last page of the novel, we end on Marina leaving, walking out into the air and a new start.

I think I could talk forever about my love for Marina's poetics. She uses phrases like "loping iambs and foot-dragging dactyls" to describe the works she immerses herself in. She talks of the difference of placing "word next to word" and creating meaning versus simply stringing sounds together, how old stories make her feel and how poets make the most excellent spies. Contrary to what one might think, Marina's revolution does not come with the publication of her work: in fact, that is where she starts, with her father arranging a small collection of her work, and she has to fight to keep it burning inside her as the revolution threatens to tear it out with her heart with every new tragedy. Not to mention her fire, her sexuality, her verve--I found that I met Marina as a friend, though our stories are worlds and years apart.

Janet Fitch wrote at the end of the book, "research was the oxygen in the water of this novel," and that thrilled me. I have long harbored a desire for writing historical fiction, as it takes a story like this to really cement history for me. I like to learn history through a person's eyes who has lived it, not by memorizing dates in a textbook. Never again will I forget that the Russian Revolution took place in 1917, and I am thrilled to learn that it is only one half of a two-part tale so I can learn more! Now that I'm not in school where I have to prove my knowledge in history essay exams (which give me terrible anxiety), I think I'd like to try my hand at writing a historical fiction project of my own. Marina has inspired me.

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.

MAR - The Power

March review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: The Power by Naomi Alderman, 2017. [sci-fi novel with female protagonist by female author category]

The Power is suuuuuch an incredible story. Just. Wow. It was first brought to my attention by Buffering the Vampire Slayer, whose patrons started a book club to read and discuss this book about (not just) one girl in all the world. The basis of the story is that suddenly, girls all over are changed, have the power to channel electricity through their palms. What will happen? Will women take power and create a utopia? Or will there be a hellish role reversal and women will abuse their power in equally grotesque and inexcusable ways?

The story is told by focusing on a number of different women--and one dude. There is tough, street-savvy Roxy; politician Margot and her distant teenage daughter Jocelyn; orphaned and abused Allie; and smartphone-camera-toting Tunde, who is the external observer and only man who gets a perspective chapter. All these different types of women throughout the story have their own role to play in the coming revolution, which is what this text documents. Speaking of which! The book opens on a letter to a woman named Naomi, from a man who is ostensibly the "author" of this book about the rise of the matriarchy. This positions it in sort of a frame story, which lends itself to an entirely different kind of book. The sections are marked in a countdown, with titles like "Ten years to go" and "Can't be more than seven months left," offering a sense of foreboding with every passing section. The early chapters were positive, hopeful that the tide was turning, hopeful that the changes were for the better.

FEB - Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories

February review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories by Agatha Christie, 1985. [female protagonist over the age of 60 category]

Agatha Christie truly is a gem. Miss Marple has established herself in the general consciousness, so much so that I felt like I already knew her when starting this collection, even though I'd never read her stories before. I am a big fan of strong lady characters, and I was excited to see how this one was structured, why she has established herself in the pantheon of greats. The Chicago Sun-Times quote on the front of my copy refers to Miss Marple as "One of the greatest female sleuths of all time!"

The first story, "The Tuesday Night Club," introduces the conceit of the first few stories. Miss Marple is not the first character introduced: her nephew is the first mentioned, as is his background as a writer, so his description is weighty. Her appearance is described, her now-quintessential black lace mittens and her knitting, and she is referred to often as "benignant." We come to always see Miss Marple like this, from the outside, almost as an afterthought. She is often brought back into the story after spacing out or getting distracted. She is very self-deprecating, always talking about how she couldn't possibly presume to know the answer, but she had a very similar story from her village... I thought it very intriguing and rather "of the times" to paint her as such an unassuming simple woman.

All in all, an interesting portrayal of women, especially the juxtaposition between Miss Marple and Miss Jane Helier, for example. (Both called Jane, I might add! Fun little coincidences.) Jane Helier is described as a relatively stupid, gorgeous actress. In "The Affair at the Bungalow," Miss Helier is telling a story to the group and she often has trouble getting going:

"It's very difficult," she said plaintively, "to say just what you want. One gets things mixed up and tells the wrong things first." (p180)

She is played off as this stupid, vapid woman, when in actuality she concocted one of these plans (spoiler alert!). Christie never plays them off of each other, saying one is better than the other: Miss Marple helps Jane Helier, whispers to her when she thinks Miss Helier is a bit off track on her concoction, but doesn't out her in front of the men of the group. These women back each other up, something I think is important to remember in such divisive times.

JAN - The Princess Diarist

January review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher, 2016. [celebrity memoir category]

The Princess Diarist is Carrie Fisher's rediscovery of her journals from the set of the first Star Wars film, and it is breathtaking. Bookended by her own retrospective explanations, her journal pages are just vague enough to be universal, but understandable within the context she has painted. There is a vulnerability and a raw quality to her memories that is a side of Carrie Fisher was have never seen, and having that parallelled with the sardonic honesty of her later years is particularly intriguing. I greedily devoured her words, letting myself drop into her mind and feel what she felt, see how she saw. It was fun to peek inside the nascent beginnings of Leia, but it was so much more interesting to read Carrie talk about those beginnings in terms of the rest of her life.

I, like many thousands of girls my age, was in awe of Princess Leia. I loved Princess Leia for all the things she represented in the original Star Wars trilogy: she was the badass princess who didn’t need rescuing, she was the only woman in pretty much the whole shebang, she was loud and funny and she got shit done. She was my solid entry into the world of science fiction and I will always be grateful to her for that. Since then, she has grown as I have, and when she reentered the world of Star Wars as General Organa, I was absolutely thrilled. Leia put in the work and fought her way up from being the empty, underestimated princess of the first films. Carrie was not satisfied with her being the sister or the lover: she infused Leia with simmering starpower that exploded in the hearts and minds of girls everywhere, and Leia became one for the ages.

When she passed, I read article after article about her; I watched her interviews and added her books to my TBR pile. I remember when Wishful Drinking came out, I remember being slightly saddened to learn that Carrie Fisher sort of regretted Star Wars and that she had some problems with addiction--I was seventeen and still in the heady days of not interrogating something that makes me uncomfortable, something that Carrie has since taught me to do. I didn't read Wishful Drinking (but it's on my list now), and I let Carrie Fisher fade back out of the forefront of my mind for a while longer. I don't remember exactly how she came back, but I remember all of a sudden being stirred by her writing and her honesty, and Leia opened up so much more to me.

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Sure, Princess Leia taught me a lot, but I think Carrie Fisher taught me more. Her frankness about her personal problems and mental health issues taught me to be ok casually mentioning my medication or my anxiety. Her flagrant disregard for societal standards helped me to realize how great a woman's body is when she loves it, and that nobody else's opinion matters. When the real world started to get shitty with Doomsday *ahem* I mean Election 2016, an image began to circulate of Leia in her white dress with a gun, saying "A Woman's Place is in the Resistance." I love it, but I don't think that single image goes far enough. I want a triptych: I want Princess Leia in her white dress; I want Undercover Leia in her stolen bounty hunter suit; and I want General Organa in her vest and circle braid. This woman has shown me so many different ways of how I can be, and I want to keep honoring her the only way I know how: by continuing to Be.

Thank you, Princess Leia. Thank you, General Organa. But most of all, thank you Space Mom, for all that you've given me. Hope you're having a grand old time hexing people like Harvey Weinstein up in Heaven.

Recap 2017: 5 Years of Challenges

Whew! This is my fifth year of self-assigned reading, guys. It was my first year doing Book Riot's Read Harder Challenge, since the Eclectic Reader Challenge I had been doing before had not posted anything by the time I wanted to start organizing last December! It was a big step up, reading and writing about two books a month instead of one, and honestly the lines between months have bled as I have been busy and have also allowed myself to read and do other things for fun. Thus, this 2017 year recap is late, as were December's reviews. But! Better late than never, I always say. And plus, this is for me, and I can make up the rules! 2017 was a great year for me, personally. (The world, not so much...) It was the first full calendar year I spent with my now-fiance (!!!), we moved in together, I lifted some heavy things, I played some roller derby, I read and received a lot of good books. I think this year was far more eclectic of a year in terms of books, simply because of the number of categories I was given. I appreciated the specificity of some of the categories, as well as the broad, simple nature of others. This year in reading featured a lot of female- and woman- driven books, as per usual, but I also read a number of books centering stories of people of color, something I look to continue to do in the years to come. I read some more gay books, increased my bookshelf in that category, and it has been just all around pretty great. So, here we go, to recap twenty-four whole books that I read for this challenge in the year two thousand and seventeen!

Derby Life by Margot "Em Dash" Atwell
January - book about sports
The first thing I wanted to try to do this year was to read books that I already owned, if they fit the category. I donated to the Kickstarter for this book years ago, but it has sat on my derby reference shelf since then. I really enjoyed getting a new and different perspective on the sport I hold so dear, especially now that I am competing at such a wildly different level than when I started, three short years ago.

The Case for Books by Robert Darnton 
January - nonfiction book about technology
Books are great! I love books! E-readers give me access to so many books for so much cheaper! But I miss books! This is the age-old debate (well, Technology Age-old, haha) for book lovers, and it was one that I found very interesting. Darnton focused on Google and book digitization, but the essays were written seven years ago, and I would love to see what kind of research has been done since then.

Texts From Jane Eyre by Mallory Ortberg
February - book about books
Did I mention that I love books? This category was super hard, so I fell back on a book I'd been gifted and a concept that I was just so tickled by. What if classic characters could text? A fantastic thought experiment that Mallory Ortberg executed perfectly. I found myself snorting with laughter on the bus many a time during my read.



When I Was Puerto Rican by Esmeralda Santiago

February - book about immigration or by an immigrant
When I Was Puerto Rican is one of those books that I've seen on Best-Of lists since I was in high school but it never fit in with my reading schedule. This year it feels particularly poignant in retrospect, what with the devastation in Puerto Rico that still has not been addressed adequately by our government. The scenes in which the author discusses governmental aid during the election season was particularly difficult for me to read in today's context.

Monday or Tuesday by Virginia Woolf
March - collection of short stories written by a woman
Oh look, another chance to read some Virginia Woolf. I am slowly making my way through her entire oeuvre, and this collection of short stories reminded me why I fell in love with her to begin with. It is her early stuff, pre-Mrs. Dalloway, and you can see her playing with her soon-to-be characteristic style in various corners of the book. There's also a fantastic patriarchy-smashing satirical entry called "A Society" that everyone must read, stat.


The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall

March - book that has been banned frequently
Well of Loneliness is often hailed as the beginning of lesbian fiction. It is a novel that is often referred to also as a thinly-veiled autobiography of Hall herself, and it is an interesting slice of naming and identity politics in that era. I think that I would more readily classify it as a genderqueer classic, rather than a lesbian one, and it was interesting to see arguably the beginning of the kill your darlings trope. And by interesting, I mean infuriating.

The Gunslinger by Stephen King
April - fantasy novel
It seems that 2017 was also a year to get around to reading things I've meant to for years but haven't. I was finally prompted to read The Gunslinger because the movie adaptation with Idris Elba was coming out, and a friend of mine swears by the series. I was very intrigued, and I read the second book, but there were places where I just really shook my head at Stephen King.

The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner
April - travel memoir
Where to be happy is an interesting concept for a travel memoir, and the methodical way in which Eric Weiner goes about researching and/or proving his hypotheses is incredibly appealing to a logical creature such as myself. It basically just solidified my desire to visit Iceland.

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
May - book you've read before
I think this is the fourth time I've read Handmaid's Tale? The last was during the Romney bid for presidency, but this time was quantifiably scarier. The Hulu series did an incredible job of expanding Atwood's universe and adjusting things for 2017--although not many things, because it is unfortunately just as relevant now. (I will say that the fact that Elizabeth Moss is a Scientologist is highly problematic for me in terms of the brand of this show. But that's for another time.)

Cursed Pirate Girl by Jeremy A. Bastian
May - all ages comic
It is hard to find a stand-alone comic these days, and I did not succeed here either. Turns out this is Volume I! But in any case, I enjoyed this pen-and-ink comic with its intricate page layouts and fantastical characters. I am a sucker for pirate stories, especially lady pirate stories, so this was right up my alley.

The Bone People by Keri Hulme
June - book set >5000 mi from your location
Again, a book that has been on my shelf for like 5 years. It was recommended to me in college by a crush, who was as in love with words as I am, and this book did not disappoint. It was thrilling to read the way Hulme engages with not only the English of the book, but the Maori phrases that are peppered into the narratives.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz
June - YA by an LGBTQ+ author
This made my little gay heart swell. I appreciated the lack of a "eureka!" moment, as that is not how I came to my sexuality either, and to see it dealt with so naturally on the page was empowering. I got my copy of this book for free at Ferndale Pride this past summer, exemplifying a good queer community.

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie
July - published between 1900 and 1950
Another read prompted by the upcoming release of a film! Kenneth Branagh is Hercule Poirot in the newest film version of Agatha Christie's classic, and while I haven't seen it yet, I am looking forward to watching him act around a glorious mustache. I like reading mystery novels and only allowing half of my brain to try to figure out the whodunit, allowing the other half to just sort of revel in the reveal, so to speak.

Interview With The Vampire by Anne Rice
July - debut novel
The original angsty vampire novel! Granted, Anne Rice is a much better writer than Stephanie Meyer, but the angst is strong with this one. I saw the movie so long ago, and I think I was most struck by tiny Kirsten Dunst, so that was the most gripping part of the novel for me. Also demon children are just terrifying altogether, so there's that.

Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly
August - book where all points of view are people of color
I stretched the category a little for this one, since Mo had bought it to read and I wanted to take advantage of that,  but I'm very glad I did. I think reading it in conjunction with seeing the film adaptation really was what made it fit this category.

Hell Hath No Fury by Rosalind Miles and Robin Cross
August - book about war
Again, could've been so good, but I wanted it to be at least 200 pages longer so they could go into more detail about some of the people discussed. I understand that that's not what this particular book was about, it was trying to be more of a reference guide, but on the bright side, now I have a whole list of women I want to go and research.

Redefining Realness by Janet Mock
September - book where a character of color goes on a spiritual journey
Janet Mock is a personal hero of mine. I really enjoyed reading about her inner thoughts as she was becoming who she really is, and the deftness with which she dealt with her situation was poetic and inspiring. I am looking forward to reading more of her work as I continue on my journey to be a woke human being.

Patsy Walker AKA Hellcat! #1: Hooked on a Feline by Kate Leth and Brittney Williams
September - superhero comic with a female lead
I loved Kate Leth's reimagining of Hellcat! Let's be real, I love pretty much everything about Kate Leth. So it was fun to see her venture into the superhero world and leave her signature fun and irreverent stamp on it. Plus she came up with the One Stop Crop Top Shop that has haunted my dreams ever since!

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
October - classic by an author of color
I grew up having "Phenomenal Woman" read to me by my mother. I've been raised on Maya Angelou. I've read parts of this book, I think, but never had the opportunity to sit down and read it in its entirety. It still feels so very relevant, especially in 2017, and that both made my heart swell and hurt.

A Knight To Remember by Bridget Essex
October - LGBTQ+ romance novel
This was a ridiculous romance novel but we finished it. It could've been so good but I was constantly taken out of it by the author's outlandish descriptions and obsession with certain key phrases. It sort of made me want to write a romance novel, you know, to do it better. But I love reading LGBTQ+ stories, so that made my little queer heart warm.


The Law of Love by Laura Esquivel
November - book set in Central/South America, written by a Central/South American author
DNF. Did. Not. Finish. The first 20 pages made me uncomfortable and they were trying too hard and I just couldn't even with it. I have brought the first 20 pages back out at parties to read how ridiculous it is, though.

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
November - book set <100 mi from your location
I loved this book. I've been meaning to read it for a long while now, and I'm grateful when challenges allow me to check one of those books off my list. What can I say about Middlesex that hasn't already been said? It is an amazing work of literature, both in terms of style and form. The decisions Eugenides made with time and structure add weight to the story and to the narrator, and I couldn't put it down.

Look There by Agi Mishol, translated by Lisa Katz
December - collection of poetry in translation on a theme other than love
I've had a lot of feelings about Israel lately, and reading this collection was no exception. I was reminded of the beauty of Israel and also its hardship, and how it has shaped the people in my life. I missed my brother when I read these poems, and I texted him to make sure he know that I was thinking about him.

Fruit Mansion by Sam Herschel Wein
December - book published by a micropress
My cool friend Sam wrote a chapbook and I had the honor of buying it and reading it and putting it on my shelf. His raw honesty and power came through in every line of every poem, and I am thrilled to know him.

And there you have it! That is my 2017 in books, for the most part. I am proud to have only hit one dud in this challenge, as I was really stretching myself. I wish I had more time to read, but I think I'm doing pretty well as is! I hope you enjoyed this, imaginary reader, and I maybe gave you some TBRs of your own!

~ My 2016 recap ~ 

~ My 2015 recap ~ 

~ My 2014 recap ~ 

~ My 2013 recap ~

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.

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. 

I want to go to there.

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. 

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.

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. 

Screencap from 2017 Hulu adaptation

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. 

SEPT - The Underground Girls of Kabul

September review for Eclectic Reader's Challenge 2016: The Underground Girls of Kabul by Jenny Nordberg, 2014. [Investigative Journalism category]

Once upon a time, investigative journalism was something that I was very interested in pursuing as a career path. The most salient definition of "investigative journalism" that I could find during my search for a book of this genre delineated it as, "a form of journalism in which reporters deeply investigate a single topic of interest to shed light on a specific issue, such as crime or social justice." For Jenny Nordberg, that specific issue is the bacha posh. Nordberg's book The Underground Girls of Kabul: In Search of a Hidden Resistance in Afghanistan examines the bacha posh, a phrase translated from Dari as "dressed up like a boy" that is used as sort of a blanket term for the phenomenon of girls being disguised as boys in Afghanistan. (I use the passive voice here because it is generally not a decision made by the girls themselves, although there are exceptions. Usually the decision is made by the parents who have not borne a male heir and desire the social stability and visibility granted by having a male child.) Nordberg paints a compelling portrait of a number of these bacha posh who have undergone--and maintained--the disguise for varied reasons, shining a light into a heretofore unexamined corner of Afghan culture. 

I was immediately intrigued by this study, but I couldn't help a niggling discomfort that underscored my intrigue: what rights does Nordberg have to tell this story? This is, ostensibly, a tender subject and practice in a society that is notably difficult for girlhood, and I was uncomfortable with the author's insertion of herself into the issue. But early on, Nordberg establishes that her primary subject, a parliamentarian named Azita who chose the bacha posh life for her daughter, has given permission to tell her story (p25), saying "It could be interesting for people. This is the reality of Afghanistan." Nordberg, a Swedish journalist, broke the story to the New York Times in 2010 and spent years developing personal accounts and researching cultural and historical aspects of this practice. Her book lays out a number of different bacha posh experiences, probing the question of whether bacha posh exists as a kind of third gender or if it challenges the idea of a gender binary altogether--personally I wish more space had been given to this particular discussion, as it stands it is only brought up toward the end of the book through Zahra, a teenage bacha posh who is resistant to returning to her "girl state," but I suppose there is only so much one can ask from a broad investigative text. 

One section that resonated me in particular was Nader's story, a bacha posh who has continued the lifestyle into adulthood, who now runs what amounts to a literal underground meeting of like-minded individuals, practicing tae kwon do and "her own brand of organized resistance" (p217). When asked about the importance of her athletic endeavor, Nader replies about subversion and controversy, but also notes the following: 

"But it is also because when we use our bodies, we do not feel weak anymore. When a girl feels the strength of her body, she knows she can do other things, too." (p217)

Realizing one's own strength is especially poignant for me as a woman who has come into her own through the discovery of roller derby and commitment to a lifting regime, a woman who has learned how to use her body, albeit in a safer space than the tumultuous social landscape that is womanhood in a Middle Eastern society.  I recognize that any attempt I make to identify with this story is paltry in terms of privilege and social histories, but it is a small thing that I can build upon, some small measure of connection that feels important in the current climate.