2018 Wrap Up

Hello, friends. It is I, the supremely late Sonnet, rolling into this review post on April 2, a full 3 months past the New Year. It has been quite a wild ride, though, so I'm only a little mad that I'm so late! Definitely planning on making more of a concerted effort to schedule myself this year, though. (Shut up, I don't say that every year...) Anyway, here are some quick thoughts (and hot links) on the books I read for the 2018 Read Harder Challenge!

She Came By The Book by Mary Wings
January - mystery by LGBTQ+ or POC author
I said it in my main review and I'll say it again: any book that starts with "As a lesbian..." is bound to be an interesting one for me. I loved discovering Mary Wings' work at the Affirmations book sale, and I loved that the queer part of the story was just as important as the actual mystery.

The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher
January - celebrity memoir
Space Mom! You were too good for us, and I hope we do you proud. I loved getting a peek into Carrie Fisher's young mind, the raw honesty and cleverness.

Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories by Agatha Christie
February - female protagonist over age 60
I love Miss Marple. I want to be an old lady knitting and solving mysteries and unobtrusively telling everyone she's smarter than them. Not in so many words, of course.

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo
February - social sciences
Ijeoma Oluo is one of my go-to writers now, when I want to try to understand something powerful that is happening in the world. Everyone should read this book, but especially white people. R E A D  I T .

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski
March - Oprah Book Club selection
Hamlet in the Midwest! I am a sucker for retellings, especially ones that stretch the conceivable bounds for a retelling. Don't get me wrong, I'll read Beauty and the Beast in a slightly different European forest all day, but take a Danish monarchical tragedy and put it in rural Wisconsin? Sold.

The Power by Naomi Alderman
March - sci-fi novel with a female protagonist by a female author
Can you imagine what it would be like for women to be suddenly infused with the terrifying power and strength to take the world back? No? Maybe read this book then? (And also, like, a lot of other books. Work on your imagination, bro.)

Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi  (Legacy of Orisha #1)
April - first in a new-to-you YA series
I can't keep saying "I love this book" and move on to the next blurb. But I love this book. Sure, I have some quibbles, so I made everyone I know read it so I could argue with them about it, but overall, Blood and Bone is so important in terms of representation and expansion of pan-African influences in young adult media and Tomi did a bang-up job. Waiting on #2 now. . .

Monstress Vol. 1: Awakening by Marjorie M. Liu
April - comic written or illustrated by a POC
Unreliable narrators who are possibly also a little evil, paired with an art style dense with line and emotion, in a matriarchal version of Feudal Japan.

Thunderstruck by Erik Larson
May - true crime
Wow, it took a long time to get to the actual murder! But I know more about transatlantic communication (also skin removal) than I ever thought I wanted to know.

Moonstruck! Vol 1: Magic to Brew by Grace Ellis, Shae Beagle, and Kate Leth
May - one-sitting read
I read this queer graphic novel in bed on my birthday and I think that pretty much sums up how I feel about it. Cozy and happy and gay.

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
June - post/colonial literature
This is a pretty famous pivot in literature, telling a famous story from a minor character's perspective, and I very much enjoyed this addition to Jane Eyre, one of my favorite novels. The play with point of view alone in this book really resonates.

When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi
June- published posthumously
I knew whatever book I chose for this was going to be rough, and I decided to just put myself through the ringer for this one. My father was diagnosed with esophageal cancer last March, and so of course I decided to read a book about a man who died from (brain) cancer and wrote about his experience. This was a beautiful, raw little book and it solidified a lot of things for me.

Double Bind: Women On Ambition ed. by Robin Romm
July - essay anthology
Am I ambitious? What does that even mean? I really dug deep with this one, asking myself the same questions all the contributors asked in the penning of their essays. Is ambition motivation? Follow-through? Drive? Success? Can it waver, and come back? I'm working on it.

The Neverending Story by Michael Ende
July - children's classic written before 1980
I've always loved The Neverending Story the movie and long since thought I should read the book. The book was interesting, the movie only covers the first half of it, and honestly I'm glad, because second half Bastian suuuuucks.

The Revolution of Marina M by Janet Fitch
August - book about a BRICS country (Russia)
Wow this was a TOME. A thicc introspective dive into the Russian Revolution. I fell in love with Marina, and my heart hurt for every one of the zillion heartbreaking things that happened to her in an inconceivably short amount of time. This is the kind of book that made me want to write historical fiction.

What A Plant Knows: A Field Guide to the Senses by Daniel Chamovitz
August - book about nature
I work for Backyard Brains, and I plucked this book off our office library shelf. We recently started doing experiments with plants, and this book is essentially the backbone of our research with them. How can we understand plants in a way that translates to understanding ourselves as people?

Yellowthroat by Penny Hayes 
September - western
Two words. Lesbian. Western. Need I say more? Sure, there were some sleepy tropes, but ultimately I was happy that the author did not live there, in those tropes that are unfortunately still all too common in queer media.

Ash by Malinda Lo
September - romance novel by/about a POC
Did I mention that I love retellings? And queer things? And this was a queer fairy tale retelling?

Handling the Undead by John Ajvide Lindqvist
October - genre fiction in translation
John Ajvide Lindqvist is consistently an author who gives me the creeps in absolutely the best way. He makes the horror so banal and close to home that you cannot distance yourself from it at all.

Heat Wave by Richard Castle
October - book with a cover you hate
I love Castle, and I love that they ghostwrote this book by Castle! It was so on-brand for the show and I truly got confused between cases on the show and the case in this book. Oops!

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
November - assigned book you never finished
I did it! I finished the behemoth! I learned so many words, some of which are not real words, and I think I maybe followed most of what happened, but I think part of the point of Infinite Jest is that you maybe don't fully understand it.

Nimona by Noelle Stevenson
November - comic written and drawn by the same person
I am literally so excited for the 2020 adaptation of this. Noelle Stevenson is such goals!

The Woman In White by Wilkie Collins
December - classic of genre fiction
SO. MUCH. RAGE. Just click through and read my tweets. It's touted as a classic, but I had too many problems with it for it to land on my favorites list.

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina: Book One by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa and Robert Hack
December - graphic novel not published by Marvel, DC, or Image
Spooky teenage girls with powers! Netflix adaptations with badass ladies!

One of my goals for 2019 is to be better about scheduling time for myself to write, especially about the things I love. I went through bouts where I didn't write at all about these books, and there are gaps in my posting. This is just for me, I'm sure, but I want to be more organized in 2019. I really love the heightened challenge of two books and reviews a month, but I think I still need to get my groove.

That being said, this year was pretty great personally. I bought a house with my love and we just started our first major renovation project on it; I skated multiple games for the charter team and I'm hoping to amp up my track time for 2019; I started training for a strongwoman competition (finally), I finished NaNoWriMo (though not the draft of my novel!).

Previous years:

~ 2017 ~ 2016 ~ 2015 ~ 2014 ~ 2013 ~

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.

#21/30 - 2018

#21/30 - 2018

today is a day
for cleaning out
"you haven't lived here for seven years,"
she says
"why is there still so much STUFF"

so i go through
organize journals from 2003 to 2010
read (and burn) letters written by
a fourteen-year-old with inconsequential wisdom
--she was not wise.
eloquent, yes, but the words did not matter

pictures from my childhood
hard copies
of hard bangs, backwards caps, pale blue dresses
i really am a spectrum

FEB - So You Want To Talk About Race

February review for Book Riot's Read Harder 2018: So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo, 2018. [social sciences category]

This post is late. Obviously. It's been too long coming. I've been thinking a lot about how to write about this beautiful gem of a book, So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo, and putting it off until I had the right way to phrase my thoughts. But I think that is exactly the reason I (and everyone) need to read this book and write about this book and talk about this book. I was keeping quiet so I didn't fuck up and say the wrong thing, instead of starting the conversation and trying to be open and vulnerable and able to be called on my shit. I should write about this even if I'm not sure where to start.

Bottom line. Everyone should read this book. Whether or not you think talking about race/thinking about the way we talk about race is important (spoiler alert, it fucking is), you need to fucking read it. Ijeoma Oluo’s prose is raw and unassuming. She examines her own story, her own privilege, all the while maintaining that it is hard and it is awkward but it is incredibly necessary to do so. Her chapter titles are all easily-digestible questions that get to the core of the things that make these discussions hard, like "what if I talk about race wrong" and "but what if I hate Al Sharpton." She lays out her stories, her connections, and then seamlessly moves into the grander scheme.

I, as a relatively privileged cis white woman, have been trying more and more to interrogate my privilege and how I interact with the world around me. Recently I've been getting really angry at work because there is a casually racist old man who says things that make me feel like a cartoon teapot with steam coming out of my ears. He is so biased and ill informed and just plain inappropriate that I find myself speechless, but I am trying to figure out how to engage. My partner recently asked why I never say anything to him, just fume at home,and I said that I didn't think it would make any difference. Hearing myself say that out loud was a shock and it put my whole thing into perspective. I have to say something. I have to practice what I preach, to be the change, and all those other cliches. I feel like this book was a good kick in the butt I need. Thank you, Ijeoma Oluo, for raising your voice and being so articulate and honest and just really all-around mind-blowing. Just, thank you, really. You're cool.

2018, Read HarderER

I'm gonna go for Book Riot's Read Harder again in 2018! I really enjoyed upping the volume last year, and I found some themes I want to try to continue to focus on for my decisions this year. So here we go again!

2018 Categories:

1. A book published posthumously
2. A book of true crime
3. A classic of genre fiction (i.e. mystery, sci fi/fantasy, romance)
4. A comic written and drawn by the same person
5. A book set in or about one of the five BRICS countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China, or South Africa)
6. A book about nature
7. A western
8. A comic written or drawn by a person of color
9. A book of colonial or postcolonial literature
10. A romance novel by or about a person of color
11. A children’s classic published before 1980
12. A celebrity memoir
13. An Oprah Book Club selection
14. A book of social science
15. A one-sitting book
16. The first book in a new-to-you YA or middle grade series
17. A sci fi novel with a female protagonist by a female author
18. A comic that isn’t published by Marvel, DC, or Image
19. A book of genre fiction in translation
20. A book with a cover you hate
21. A mystery by a person of color or LGBTQ+ author
22. An essay anthology
23. A book with a female protagonist over the age of 60
24. An assigned book you hated (or never finished)

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 ~

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. 

#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.

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. 

Recap 2016: Year Number Four

Well. Bye 2016. This year was tumultuous in affairs of the heart, rather than the workplace--unlike last year, I'm still at the same job as I was when I started 2016. My 5-year relationship with a man ended and I quickly fell for someone new, a girl who seemed to open up a new part of me that I hadn't really been sure was there. Things ended in flames, I threw myself into roller derby, went to playoffs with my team, and am now happily in a new relationship with a woman whom I'm pretty sure hung the moon. I am extraordinarily, sublimely happy. I have still been reading diligently and thinking a lot, but I have a lot of work to do, and I finally feel like I am in a place where I can confidently step forward and do it. Here's some recap thoughts about my fourth year of eclectic reading, y'all.

The Poet by Michael Connelly
January - serial killer thriller
I started 2016 by going back to a book I had started the year before, which, granted, is not the freshest way to start a new year, but I am relatively stubborn when it comes to finishing books. The Poet was written 10 years prior and I got caught up in the different ways mystery fiction (and the world itself) have changed in a decade. This book intrigued me because it boasted threads of Edgar Allen Poe flair, but it made me incredibly uncomfortable as well, due to the serial killer and the pedophilia. It was the kind of twisty, genre-bending fiction I aspire to someday, and its humility reminded me that such aspirations are possible

The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells
February - novel set on an island
Humans are messed upppp. The Island of Doctor Moreau is about a island where a man essentially plays God, cutting and prodding and putting together animals according to his whim. It is a slim classic that I have been telling myself to just devour in a weekend for years, but it has proved difficult to fit in, and this read was no exception. It took me a while, possibly because the outside world seemed more interesting than that of science fiction, but I made it through, and watching the end of this season of Orphan Black was all the richer for it. It is interesting to note, in retrospect, how many of my books were about creativity and possibility and how the human condition can send those things horribly horribly astray, and Doctor Moreau was the beginning of that trend. The doctor, after all, wanted to make something new and different and inspirational, but he was consumed by his madness and it became something dark. 

Somewhere In Time by Richard Matheson
March - paranormal romance
This is a hella angsty book. Richard Collier is in love with an idea of a woman, and is so resolute in his love that he pretty much wills himself back in time to be with her. It is a story of desire, of longing, and above all, of timing. I'd had terrible luck with timing thus far in 2016, certain events not playing out entirely correctly because of impatience or a mismatch in timing. But as hard as those events were, and as angsty a slog as this book was to read, I would not change a single thing about it. It is done and over with, and I have learned, but I am glad that it happened, something I think (I hope) Richard Collier felt toward the conclusion of his lovelorn story. 
Mad, Bad & Sad by Lisa Appignanesi
April - Psychology (non-fiction)
It is possibly (though unintentionally) apropos that I chose to follow the angst and sadness of March and Somewhere in Time with Mad, Bad & Sad. This book offered up a smattering of women in history and how they were diagnosed with various mental ailments, from hysteria to schizophrenia to depression, the ways that their eccentricity and differentness have been received by the world. I buried myself in the history this month, the stories of these women and their woes. I learned new things about women I love, Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf, and I wondered a lot about their sadness and artistry and what it was that made them so alluring. 
Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel
May - disaster fiction
One of my biggest takeaways from Station Eleven is the idea that art and language and creativity can survive in the face of utter oblivion. A contagion breaks out in the world of Station Eleven, and the book follows various important players and survivors as they prepare for and reminisce about the end of civilization as they know it. Kirsten was a child when disaster struck and she has largely grown up in the post-apocalyptic world, joining a traveling company that recites Shakespeare across the country, reminding everyone of the lasting power of art and words. Important to remember in these last weeks of the Obama administration.
The Secret of Lost Things by Sheridan Hay
June - books about books 
I love books about books. I was very torn about this category. I started at least four options, until I nearly ran out of month to read and had to settle. I wish this had gone more into the mysterious book it sets up, instead of leaving it as a token, a foil to be traded amongst the characters. I still find myself gravitating toward stories about coming into one's own, finding one's own space and passion, and The Secret of Lost Things was certainly that. 
The Mechanical by Ian Tregillis
July - steampunk sci-fi
Free will, fighting back, and the decisions you make are all paramount to The Mechanical, the first in a new steampunk sci-fi series. It felt good to lose myself in a new world, especially one so carefully and eloquently crafted. Jax's journey from duty-bound mechanical servant to free-willed automaton was an engrossing narrative that I am looking forward to following as the next books in the series come out.  
My Lady Jane by Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton, and Jodi Meadows
August - Young Adult historical fiction
I really do enjoy when I get to incorporate young adult fiction into my year. Easy reads are just as important as high-flown and intellectual ones, and My Lady Jane was excellent. It was the mostly romanticized and fictionalized version of Lady Jane Grey's nine-day reign as Queen of England, another showcasing of coming into one's own, however supernaturally (Lady Jane realizes she is of a special sect of individuals who can transform into an animal at will). The revisionist history aspect of it made my heart happy, as well, because Lady Jane being executed after nine days of power has always broken my heart. 
The Underground Girls of Kabul by Jenny Nordberg
September - Investigative journalism
I used to want to be something akin to an investigative journalist, but my primary shyness has made that a slightly difficult dream to achieve. The Underground Girls of Kabul tells of girls and women in Afghanistan who dress and live as boys for social benefits, and follows a number of cases, from those who give up their male guise at puberty to those who fight tooth and nail to remain androgynous into adulthood. I was struck by the visceral need to be who you are that the latter example of these people fit into, and it was striking to see into their world, even if I was unsure that I had the right to ask. 
Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
October - shortlist for the Man Booker Prize
Once again, we find humans playing God and we end with the undeniable tenet that humans are messed up. Oryx and Crake is slightly more apocalyptic than Island of Doctor Moreau, however, and it involves a premeditated end to the world as a result of the wielding of these powers. Margaret Atwood has a strange psyche, to say the least, but I am rarely disappointed when I take a trip with her. She has a way of laying out humanity that manages to transcend contemporariness to remain relevant for the reader whenever the text is consumed. 
Americanah by Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie
November - immigrant experience fiction
In November, this country broke. Our electoral system allowed a racist, misogynistic, xenophobic bigot to ascend to the highest office, and it is galvanizing. I picked up Americanah among other texts to both educate myself and remind myself that I am not alone. Do the work. Observe. Speak out. This is going to be a huge responsibility in the next four years.
Sweetbitter by Stephanie Danler
December - debut author in 2016
I ended 2016 with a debut author's first work, another sort of coming-of-age tale set against a restaurant life backdrop. The poetry of description was as intoxicating as Tess's first year in the city. At the restaurant, they make a big deal about wine, especially its terroir, which is defined as the conglomeration of environmental and contextual situations that make up the character of a wine, and Danler extended this metaphor to suggest that people also have their own sort of terroir, based upon their experiences and history. Sweetbitter was arresting in that regard, asking me what sort of terroir do I have at this point in my life? Is it close to where I'd like it to be? How much more work do I have to get started on?
After all these books, all these pages, all these words, I am surely not the same person I was when I began 2016. My experiences this past year have been heavy and heady and eye-opening, and I feel full. Full of promise, of opportunity, of fight. I say again, goodbye 2016, and I hope that 2017 is not the end of the world as we know it. 

{Link to my 2015 recap ~ Link to my 2014 recap  ~  Link to my 2013 recap }

NOV - Americanah

November review for Eclectic Reader's Challenge 2016: Americanah by Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie, 2013. [Immigrant Experience fiction category] 

Americanah by Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie is one of those books in recent years that everyone tells you to read. It has been on my mental "to buy" list for ages. Picking it up this Thanksgiving, I was not disappointed. It's one of those books that every sentence I felt compelled to underline, asterisk, highlight. It is resonating, even though I am neither an immigrant nor am I black. It is certainly one of those "check your privilege" kind of books. I'm not sure how exactly to write about this powerful social commentary, but I am going to try my best.

First, the category for which I chose this novel: immigrant experience fiction. Adichie is adept at telling the tale of the immigrant, as she too has split her life between two countries. Ifemelu and Obinze are two Nigerian young people who fall in love but end up separated, immigrating to the U.S. and the U.K., respectively, and through these two, Adichie sheds light on two kinds of immigration, as well. The kind that goes well, plays by the rules, and ends in citizenship (Ifemelu); and then the kind that exists under the table, undocumented until it is caught, and ends in deportation (Obinze). This is primarily Ifemelu's story, however, and Obinze's chapters seem to add a slight corollary to her story, rather than make him an equal in perspective. Both characters examine what it means to leave home, but by the end of the book, they both try to understand what it means to return home, and who their experiences away have made them. 

I recognize that I read this book with a certain distance, as there are parts of the narrative I cannot understand, no matter how eloquent Adichie is. Americanah takes on race and race politics from the perspective of an outsider to America, examines blackness in terms of the community in which it is found. Ifemelu begins a blog when is studying in America, titled "Raceteenth or Various Observations About American Blacks (Those Formerly Known as Negroes) by a Non-American Black," and in it, she chronicles her attempt to move through this new space while black, something about herself she had never considered before. Ifemelu is a good voicebox for Adichie's incredibly nuanced observations, and a book like this is very important in a year like this one, where people are still being murdered and silenced and shamed simply because of their melanin level. A review I read mentions Adichie's point that there needs to be more novels (like this one) about how people feel and observe race today, out in the world, rather than feel-good retrospectives about slavery and civil rights and "how far we've come" instead of how fucking far we still have to go. These are conversations that need to be had, and although I feel wildly underprepared (again, I recognize my privilege in this underpreparation), I know that I need to contribute and hone my voice and my position and do the work, especially in the coming political shitstorm that will most likely be the next four years. 

Ultimately, Ifemelu has inspired me to write more again, to observe more, and also to speak out about what is happening, what I see. Her blog about her world reminded me how out of touch I am with my writing at the moment. For 2017, I would like to engage a bit more with my world, and I hope reading things like Americanah and attempting to parse out my thoughts will help me to survive and to help my community fight back. It's going to be very important in 2017 and beyond.

APR - Mad, Bad & Sad

April review for Eclectic Reader's Challenge 2016: Mad, Bad & Sad: A History of Women and the Mind Doctors by Lisa Appignaensi, 2009. [Psychology (non-fiction) category]

My selection for Psychology (non-fiction) was Mad, Bad & Sad: A History of Women and the Mind Doctors, a book about the last two hundred years' worth of "extreme states of mind" in women. It chronicled the way women have been diagnosed over the years and evaluated the gradual shift in societal perspectives on these unusual women. Beginning in the 1800s, Mad, Bad & Sad tracks the inception of female mental illness and institutionalization as a sort of storage term to remove unruly women from their families purview. There is a lot of name-dropping, making sure to cover the "greats" like Sylvia Plath and Marilyn Monroe and Zelda Fitzgerald, and it is here that the tone of the book seems to shift, organizing itself more around these cases rather than the societal views that the beginning of the book dealt with. The book was written in 2009, so there is a bit of a contemporary gap that I would be very interested in seeing Appignanensi deal with, but alas. 

I have long been enamored of both Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath, two tragic writer women who figured prominently in the more contemporary chapters of this book. I cannot say exactly what it is that draws me to these women--it is surely not any sort of personal connection to such oceans of sadness or dejected kinship, other than my love of words and the way these women used them. (This is not to say that I have never been Sad with a capital S, I suppose, but it is not the primary focus of my love for these writers--I do not love them because they ended their lives in tragedy, I guess is what I'm trying to say.) I was introduced to both women in high school, under the tutelage one of my favorite teachers, my AP Lit teacher Mrs. Culver. Virginia intrigued me because of her breakthrough stream-of-consciousness style, one that I tried to emulate in my journal for so many years. Sylvia's rawness in poetry electrified me, and The Bell Jar made me wonder about what my future held, as a senior in high school on the cusp of The Real World. It has been said that all the great artists are great because they have experienced sadness and pain in a way that rips through their art, and these two women certainly felt their share of sadness. The lapis-colored lens of their lives has more than once prompted me to look at my own experiences and be grateful that I have never been that Sad, but it has also showed me the ways in which such Sadness is relative, a fact that I was reminded of reading this book. 

My overall feelings about the book were those of intellectual intrigue. It was a long haul, and I trekked with this book to Italy and back, reading a little bit every day, whenever I could. It was thick with information, facts and anecdotes and tidbits, not always easily consumable in short bursts (sometimes I had to re-read), but I did my best.  I liked the way it moved through history, moving through different women and diagnoses. I wanted to be a history major for a time, but I had trouble in history classes; memorizing names and dates and disparate facts has never been how my brain processes information, so in a way, Mad, Bad & Sad humanized the history for me, presented me with fully-fleshed stories rather than bare-bones timelines. I am sure I should read this book again in order to retain the plethora of information that I was presented, as I must do with most dense information of this nature, and I look forward to it. 

JAN - The Poet

January review for Eclectic Reader's Challenge 2016: The Poet by Michael Connelly, 1991. [Serial Killer Thriller category]

I started reading The Poet by Michael Connelly last year, originally intending it to be my selection for PI fiction, but I ended up putting it down because Jack McEvoy, the protagonist, is actually a reporter, and not a PI--although I suppose I could've argued a transference, I've made similar "edits" to categories before. But I was intrigued enough by the concept to want to find another opportunity for it to work for me, and lo and behold, here came "serial killer thriller" for me. Jack McEvoy is a crime reporter who specializes in death, covering the murder beat for his paper. His homicide detective twin brother was recently found dead in his car, having ostensibly killed himself after a particularly rough and unsolved case--or so it would seem. Going back over the facts obsessively, reopening old wounds and delving into a dark corner of his brother's work, McEvoy finds links to a number of other would-be cop suicides and is on the case, so to speak. After securing the assignment, he begins to follow the trail of a sinister serial killer whom the FBI nicknames The Poet, after his use of Edgar Allan Poe lines in the "suicides." The book follows McEvoy as he enmeshes himself into the federal pursuit of The Poet, utilizing his research and knowledge to propel the investigation as well as find the end to the story and justice for his brother.

One of the reasons I was excited about this book because of the Poe trope that was woven throughout, as I am a sucker for all things Poe, but unfortunately, Poe was not utilized as heavily as I wanted it to be. (But I was still happy that it was there.) I enjoyed the scenes where McEvoy sits with his copy of Poe's works and tries to find meaning in the deaths, try to link the words to some shred of wisdom or truth in the context of Poe. It was a very literary book, in that sense, paying much attention to the logic of meaning and outlining the path of detection. It was incredibly readable, despite being published 20 years ago, although there are dating elements, such as the revelation that digital photography was used representing a major break in the case. Not to mention, you know, print media moguls still being a thing. Ohhh mid-90s concerns.

One of the reasons I was not excited? Serial killers. Especially serial killers with surprise child pornography/pedophilia thrown in. This was not an easy book to read, especially considering the chapters narrated by a card-carrying child pornographer/murderer, William Gladden. At first, his chapters seem completely out of left field, but they soon begin to link up with the case--I am unsure if I was just actively ignoring him until the book slapped me in the face and told me they were connected, or it really wasn't that heavy-handed, but either way, I didn't see it right off the bat. I'm not sure what else to write about this aspect of the book, especially without giving away some of the twisty twists, but suffice it to say that it was an uncomfortable slog.

I  relished the presence of a strong lady in the book, FBI Special Agent Rachel Walling, the best of the best who clawed her way onto her team with her talent and badassery and is fiercely protective of her position there. Spoiler alert, she and McEvoy do sleep together, which is slightly annoying and maybe uncalled for, but I suppose it did add some elements of complication and tension to the case politics. But that's just it: was that the only reason they slept together? I don't know, maybe I'm jaded.

Although for the most part I enjoyed this book, I had a hard time getting started and writing this review, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the subject matter, maybe I just didn't find the little kernel to pull at me like I have in some of my other selections, but here I am, trucking through a month too late. Maybe I need to have an editor who yells at me to get my ass in gear, like McEvoy does--and then I could ignore him, like McEvoy does too!