This is an interesting play about constructed identity and how, by playing up a racialized image of ‘intellect’, one can put themselves into the homesThis is an interesting play about constructed identity and how, by playing up a racialized image of ‘intellect’, one can put themselves into the homes and minds of others. Over time, the audience is asked to question what’s real and what’s not in a con, and maybe, over time, who is conning who.
This show… is a lot to think about. Actually, it took me a reread to really get certain aspects. The broad story is easy to understand; it’s the details that make the show so interesting. Another reviewer on this page advised reading this all in one sitting, and I would advise the same; it’s 55 pages and seeing the opening to close progression is half the fun.
I really like the differing reactions of Ouisa and her husband. The contrast between disdain and that continued degree of caring is interesting, but I also genuinely enjoy the question of why Ouisa still cares: because she misses the idea of this person, or because she really saw something underneath the lie?
I read this for the same class as M Butterfly and that was a very good choice on the part of our professor.
I still have not managed to see the entirety of the movie adaptation of this, but the scenes I’ve viewed feature some very good acting, especially on the part of the lead. Will Smith is not casting I would have pictured for this role literally ever, but then again, I think that’s because I left this play having almost no picture of him. I didn’t notice how much he fit no boxes in my head until I saw the movie, and it’s this I love so much about the character: You cannot have a coherent picture of him, because he fills so many roles.
TL;DR: Much to think about. Also, the running joke about Cats: The Movie aged like a fine wine.
You must study the pattern of the shattering before you can piece it back together.
Freshwater is an exploration of how one must acknowledg
You must study the pattern of the shattering before you can piece it back together.
Freshwater is an exploration of how one must acknowledge the mixing of their realities to find peace with themselves. Following Ada, who has multiple gods contained within her, this brilliantly-written little novel goes into the point of view of first her younger gods, and then one specific god within her, Asugara.
So. I loved this book, from its engaging writing to its incredible character building. But I think to explain why it resonates so strongly, you need to unpack the themes.
Asugara’s purpose is as a living embodiment of Ada’s trauma: she is the strength, or so she thinks, to Ada’s complicated outside. “We’re the barrier between you and madness”, Asugara tells Ada, and on some level this is real: when she pops forth, she finds an Ada broken, an Ada who she must save. Ada crafts Asugara to protect her from trauma. Asugara, in turn, turns to hypersexuality and destructive behavior as a means of escaping trauma.
For Ada, it is much easier for her to hide behind a persona, who guards her from trauma, than to relearn intimacy. Asugara serves as another manifestation of her hate for herself. Ada, too, clearly understands the role Asugara has played in helping her trauma: “You had to exist. I wasn’t ready”.
After all, was I not the hunger in Ada? I was made out of desire.
Yet Ada’s dependence on Asugara also has elements of codependency. “I don’t think anyone else will want me without you… I’m the damaged and broken one; you’re the bright and shiny one. Who are they going to love more?” And as multiple selves, she cannot fully give of herself. When Ewan finally lets go of his love for control, ready to craft an actually committed relationship with Ada, Asugara responds “you’re not yours to give.” This time, it is not a joy to say the cutting thing: the knowledge that “all those parts she wanted to give, the parts that would complete the love they had—all those parts were gone”. It takes Asugara years to know the truth, that “keeping her walled off from Ewan killed any chance they had at making it out together”. Keeping one side of Ada, it is clear, is not the solution.
Yet Ada’s darker self is not herself without feeling, without need to be loved. Yshwa’s big moment to Asugara is a proclamation that “I’m not ashamed of you… you know I love you”. Asugara flinches in response. She is Ada’s invulnerable side: she is not ready to be loved. But her vulnerability exists, too. When Ada begins to break free from her influence and suggests therapy, telling Asugara that she cannot continue to punish others, Asugara’s response is a tearful scream: “Were we not innocent enough to be spared?”. Indeed, as the novel continues, it becomes clear that she has been hurting others because she, herself, has been hurt.
I didn’t have anyone to hold me and now I don’t have anyone to kill me. You’d think he’d come through on at least one of these points.
As Emezi mentions in her interview, the concept of Ogbanje was oppressed under colonialism; black people, under colonialism, were forced to change identity, to commute self. Women and nonbinary people, likewise, have had their bodies commodified. To heal, we must come to terms with the multiplicity of identity we have developed through trauma, and move into the future as our whole selves: good, bad, and everything in between.
In an interview with The Rumpus, Emezi described their gender transition not as transitioning gender identity but “perhaps transitioning to an ogbanje, and what that looks like when you mix realities.” In the end, Ada’s freedom does not come of letting go of her divine parts: her freedom comes in recognizing them, and working with them. Ada’s way to saving is to piece herself back together, her godhood and all. In the final pages of the novel, she tells us: “I am my others; we are one and we are many”. She is infinity, a python.
TW: sexual assault, domestic abuse, disordered eating, attempted suicide.
There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you – may cleanse you of your darknes
There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you – may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone? Not much. What if an actor could do it for you? Isn’t that why they are called actors? They act for you. You sacrifice them to action. And this sacrifice is a mode of deepest intimacy of you with your own life.
The Greek concept of catharsis is a fascinating one and one easy to misunderstand. ORIGINAL COMMENTARY: I often struggle with tragedy, in its inevitable sad ending: to me, sadness with happiness at the end are often more cathartic. But the idea that seeing sadness at the end is the true point: that, to me, is fascinating. UPDATED COMMENTARY: I have actually been in a Greek Tragedy class now and read fifteen greek plays (a long review can be found here), so I feel more qualified to talk about this now. As given by Aristotle, the definition of a tragedy is not actually in its sad ending: it is in experiencing human suffering. (Most of the extant plays, not by coincidence but by generations of selection, end negatively.) Catharsis, by his definition, is a type of cleaning: "we experience, then expurgate these emotions". Tragedy can attempt to make the worst experiences consumable. It is not the ending, but the process.
On Colloquial Translation
Anne Carson’s style of translation often focuses on colloquialism: making a text often translated in direct wording into something palatable for readers. This translation of this text feels… raw. Carson does not waste words: the sense of a line is conveyed, not perhaps the exact wording. (This review gives a good example of how, as does this post on the Oresteia.)
Having spent the last eight years in Latin class (I know), I have learned that to make a text as readable to modern eyes as it would have been to ancient ones is a very different skill than direct translation. To convey word for word and to convey the spirit are two different aims; to do both is difficult, nigh-impossible for some texts. Debates over the merit of certain translated works are rife in scholarly circles.
→Heracles ★★★★☆ Euripides← (421-416 BCE) This was my personal least favorite of the plays I read for this collection, possibly because of how thoughtless it is: no decision is made by any character that caused this ill, simply a trickery of the gods. It feels deeply wrong and deeply unsatisfying. I believe is the point. Sometimes, the world is too evil to show mercy.
Notable Lines (Anne Carson translation):
HERAKLES: Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream.
→Hekabe ★★★★★ Euripides← (424 BCE) There is a sense of inevitable death that pervades this play: taking place during a mythical war, it serves on some level as a reflection of the destruction of society that Euripides himself would have feared during the Peloponnesian Wars. The ending of this play is deeply strange and off-putting: after a play full of tragedy in her life, Hekabe is told she will be turned into a dog. This fate is horrifying, but what I found most horrifying about it was its ambiguity: she has received a prophecy about her fate, but we shall never really see the truth of it. In her new life as a Greek slave, she will perhaps become a dog anyway.
Notable Lines (Anne Carson translation):
AGAMEMNON: O poor woman. There is no measure to your evils. HEKABE: I do not exist. There is nothing else. Not even evils.
CHORUS: Don’t sweep the whole female species together for condemnation because of your own catastrophe. We are many—some blameless, some not.
→Hippolytus ★★★★★ Euripides← (428 BCE) In her introduction to this text, Carson says two things that stuck out to me: →[Hippolytos] seems to want to place Artemis, and himself, in a special third gender—the translucent gender—unpolluted by flesh or change. →If you asked to Hippolytos to name his system he would say “shame”. Oddly, if you asked Phaedra to name her system she would also say “shame”. They do not mean the same thing by this word. Or perhaps they do. Too bad they never talk. The politics of shame lie at the heart of this text. What is it to love, what is it to be ashamed of that love? It's really interesting that the male character, Hippolytos, is the one taking on this role of being in love with chastity. It's also interesting that he, like Phaedra and like Theseus, is taking on the role of his Amazon mother. Phaedra, daughter to Pasiphae, is in love with the impossible and impossibly ashamed; Theseus, son of Aegeus, takes on his stubbornness. (The family tree helps.)
A fun tidbit from my Greek Tragedy teacher, who is in love with Greek double meanings: Hippolytus derives from 'horses' and the verb λυω or 'luo', which can mean either 'to release' or 'to destroy'; it is also ambiguous whether 'hippos' is the subject or the object. Hippolyta's name would have been 'he who sets horses free'; Hippolytos' name, though, means something more like 'he who the horses destroy'. As they do.
This was my favorite of these four plays.
Notable Lines (Anne Carson translation):
NURSE: Not much profit in desire then, If everyone touched by it has to die.
→Alcestis ★★★★☆ Euripides← (438 BCE) This is a strange and comedic tragedy. Admetos loves his wife and yet is okay to watch her die for him: either way, however, he gets her back. It's a splitting of fate unexpected in this genre (Oedipus wishes).
Notable Lines (Anne Carson translation):
CHORUS: We all owe a debt to death, you know.
ADMETOS: if I found another savior, if I look upon this daylight, it’s her I owe. I hate the going on of doors!
Part of this semester's long list of Anne Carson translations. In contrast to Grief Lessons and Carson’s Oresteia translation, this one is far less liPart of this semester's long list of Anne Carson translations. In contrast to Grief Lessons and Carson’s Oresteia translation, this one is far less literal, pulling in contemporary language and references to contemporary authors who have commented on Antigone. As a result, this feels far less like a translation and far more like a commentary.
There are some cool elements here. One of the oddest and most interesting elements of this was the use of the 'Nick' character, who measures things out: this functions as a commentary on the measured amounts of time we have for mortality. The portrayal of Kreon specifically comments on the ways in which men speak privilege.
I enjoyed my reading experience, but honestly found parts of the translation took away from the language I liked in previous translations I have read of Antigone. Having now read yet another translation of Antigone (yes, maybe I am moderately obsessed with this play, sue me) I like this translation less and less.
I really loved the translated section of this—I think Anne Carson has a way of conveying thoughts and feelings that is impressive to say the least. I I really loved the translated section of this—I think Anne Carson has a way of conveying thoughts and feelings that is impressive to say the least. I do not know if I can say the rest of this resonated with me.
I began very much loving this, but the second half meanders, never really coming to any kind of release for me—and I didn’t find what was in between quite good enough to ignore that. The language is very beautiful. The story in outline is brilliant. I felt it never built to the release I desired.
Nevertheless, here is a list of quotes from this that resonated with me:
All these darlings said Geryon and now me are there many little boys who think they are a monster? The red world And corresponding red breezes Went on Geryon did not Like honey is the sleep of the just Facts are bigger in the dark the difference between outside and inside inside is mine He cooly omitted all outside things What’s your favorite weapon? Cage They were two superior eels at the bottom of the tank and they recognized each other like italics What is it like to be a woman listening in the dark? I think you are a confusing subject and object the terrestrial crust or the earth which is proportionally ten times thinner than an eggshell Even in dreams he doesn’t know me at all the human custom of wrong love What is time made of? A meaning that we impose upon motion Whose tank are you in? Who can a monster blame for being red? Now a hunger was walking with them. Desire is no light thing.
I am physically incapable of conveying how obsessed I am with this play.
This little play was bas
We become the Rice Queens of realpolitik.
I am physically incapable of conveying how obsessed I am with this play.
This little play was based off a true incident in which a French diplomat fell in love with a Chinese woman… only to discover that his love was a man spying on him all along, something the diplomat insisted he did not know. The public, of course, reacted in disbelief. But when David Henry Hwang heard this story in the 1980s, his reaction was not of disbelief, but of belief; if the spy were playing the submissive Asian woman, how could she not fool him?
Song performs the version of submissive Asian womanhood Gallimard finds most appealing. Song tells us that “The West thinks of itself as masculine… so the East is feminine… her mouth says no, but her eyes say yes. The West believes the East, deep down, wants to be dominated”. This is the lens by which she caters performance: at times outspoken, but always loving the white Western man.
But the burden of this performance does not fall primarily on Song. Gallimard has grown up in a society where he has been taught to view Butterfly through a prism; thus, he does not think to question whether or not she genuinely fits the image she projects. Gallimard, in every moment, sees himself as Pinkerton and Song as Butterfly. This is the lens with which he loves her.
This is also, incidentally, the reason I heavily disliked the movie adaptation of this play. To make Song a person in love with Gallimard fails the text. Song could be in love with Gallimard, but that is not the point, and not the tragedy. To make Gallimard so easily believe the reveal that Song is not who she says she is fails the text, as well. Gallimard has never loved Song: only ever the idea of Song. Most of the changes in narrative come from removing the fourth wall breaks and making the entire play diegetic—taking place in real life rather than fantasy. These are each misguided and bad choices.
I have a lot more to say about this—my final paper in a class this semester was about this play—but I am going to end this review with a compilation of quotes from this show that made me go absolutely buckwild: Rene: While we men may all want to kick Pinkerton, very few of us would pass up the opportunity to be Pinkerton. Rene: Yes actually, I’ve forgotten everything. My mind, you see—there wasn’t enough room in this hard head—not for the world and for you. Song: Rene, I’ve never done what you’ve said. Why should it be any different in your mind? Song: Your mouth says no, but your eyes say yes. Rene: You showed me your true self. When all I loved was the lie. Rene: I’m a man who loved a woman created by a man. Everything else—simply falls short.
EDIT: I’m watching Watchmen right now and every time I see Jeremy Iron’s face I am reminded of how much i dislike the movie version of this. this is not a tragic love story. it’s a commentary on imperialism and gendered racism. don’t watch the movie. it’s fine, but you will not understand why this play is so good.
This review begins somewhat complementary, and indeed is, on the whole. There is one story in this that is a garbage fire and a half.
"George Orwell wThis review begins somewhat complementary, and indeed is, on the whole. There is one story in this that is a garbage fire and a half.
"George Orwell was a Friend of Mine" is by far my favorite from this book: it’s a story about the moral problems of bystanding, and the ways in which collective memory can fail us. I know some found "Fortune Smiles" less powerful, but I appreciated its direct commentary on the problems of assimilation. Both of these stories successfully convey the mundanity of living in an oppressive society and the cultural shock, afterwards, of realizing its global perception. I appreciated that "George Orwell" fit multiple perspectives; "Fortune Smiles" does not question its narrative’s disdain for “the tv defectors,” those who have experienced trauma, and I enjoyed that the former story explored this contrast.
I unfortunately found the stories of both "Nirvana" and "Hurricanes Anonymous" to be on the lower end of enticing. I read this book out of order, with these two coming second and third after }Fortune Smiles", and found them each to be oddly lacking in contrast to what came before. Nirvana explores romanticization of the past and technology’s impact on our grief; Hurricanes Anonymous focuses on a single father after Katrina and the repetition of old mistakes.
Johnson clearly does not enjoy emotionality in his narrators, which works for stories like "George Orwell"; I felt this held the stories back here. Perhaps as a result, I came away feeling both of these stories were saying very little. Each was more interesting, maybe even entertaining, than impactful.
"Hurricanes Anonymous", specifically, follows a specific trend of this collection: the tendency to focus on the lives of those doing wrong, with very little redemption or questioning towards this. Perhaps this is why I found the story that best subverted this trend and asked questions of personal responsibility — "George Orwell Was a Friend of Mine" — to be my favorite.
Reviewer Emilypoints out, I think correctly, that the two stories in unfamiliar settings are ironically the more human of the collection. In contrast, stories in more familiar settings begin using wild gimmicks to distinguish themselves. Strip the several fascinating premises of "Nirvana" away, and you have very little. Some of these stories, to me, feel cynical to a point where they cease to say anything. A generational gap, perhaps.
I have a very complicated array of thoughts towards "Dark Meadow", a story that deals with a reformed-maybe pedophile, who does not act on his feelings. I was really expecting to hate it. I instead have complex feelings on it. It certainly asks complex questions.
I think in general, almost all of these stories step outside the realm of personal experience. I don’t think this is inherently a bad thing but it’s worth commenting upon.
Were these stories the only stories of the collection, I would probably have felt that though this collection was a mixed bag for me personally, it was a good expression of talent. However, the story "Interesting Facts" genuinely disgusts me.
Imagine that you are diagnosed with breast cancer and have a double mastectomy. Your husband reacts to this by writing a story in which you — and it’s very clearly you, his wife, not a hypothetical wife; the story’s husband even has a Pulitzer for writing about North Korea — envy other women with larger breasts, before dying and coming back as a ghost to continue watching the women he may or may not be dating. He adds in a subtext about himself having a fetish for Asian women — which is honestly quite disturbing, considering he writes about North Korea — and for big breasts, which is downright insulting as, again, you have just had a double mastectomy. You’ve just undergone the trauma of breast cancer, and this is how your husband was thinking about you: as an already-ghost, stripped of agency, desperate to get your breasts back. Now, imagine that instead of looking at this story as a misogynistic and hateful expression of trauma and putting it aside, he publishes this story without removing any identification, leaving in many humiliating details of the ordeal of breast cancer.
I think this as a situation is genuinely disturbing. It made me very strongly wish this man had not received any of my money. I was shocked that when he came to my school to discuss his stories, he commented to a friend that his wife had been upset by this story. Of course she was. Why wouldn't she be?
I think Adam Johnson is wonderfully good at writing. I don’t think that, as a society, we should appreciate that he does so.
This is a historic collection of afrofuturistic literature written primarily by bloggers. I was assigned several of these for a class and thus have noThis is a historic collection of afrofuturistic literature written primarily by bloggers. I was assigned several of these for a class and thus have not finished reading this collection. Here are some reviews of the stories in this collection that I have, in fact, read.
The Sale by Tendai Huchu → ★★★☆☆ A story of a world overtaken by bureaucracy. Genuinely liked and appreciated the commentary of this story. Really think that when writing a story about a population being brutally repressed, you should think twice about it being via estrogen that gives your character breasts.
The Gift of Touch by Chinelo Onwualu → ★★★★★ A brief space opera with good characters and great dialogue. This one feels like some very conscious commentary on Firefly, the television show, and I had a lot of fun writing a very brief essay about it.
Heresy by Mandisi Nkomo → ★★★★☆ This one is some very good satire on South African politics and also communism-turned-fascism. Very cold, very dark, very interesting. I'd like to read more about this.
To Gaze at the Sun by Clifton Gachagua → ★★★☆☆ Absolutely fascinated by this story's seeming implication that Africa’s Great Rift Valley cuts along the middle of the continent through both Egypt and Sudan (it does not). Somewhat sad at this worldbuilding because overall I really liked the ideas explored here of parenthood and identity.
Proposition 23 by Efe Okogu → ★★★★☆
A corporation cannot be killed thus no matter how heinous the crimes it commits. The worst it can face is a fine.
The longest story, a three-point-of-view scifi-dystopia. The premise is essentially the Matrix, but without giant bugs manipulating us -- just AI. As a result, this one feels more prescient. Very smart and I liked this one.
This is a very very good sci-fi book about trauma and building a new identity.
To really explain you why you should read this, spoilers will need to bThis is a very very good sci-fi book about trauma and building a new identity.
To really explain you why you should read this, spoilers will need to be used. It takes the book until almost halfway through for the actual point of attack to appear. The problem is that it is impossible to talk in detail about this novel’s second half without talking about its themes, which are… a lot. So before recommending this book, I want to warn as a spoiler: (view spoiler)[This is a book about incestuous child rape. Tan-Tan is repeatedly raped by her father, Antonio, and becomes pregnant as a result. The second half of the book goes into her rebuilding her identity after killing him. (hide spoiler)]
Tan-Tan, as a protagonist, is fantastically resilient, well-written, and compelling. But as the book starts, she is deeply torn apart by what has happened to her. To deal with what she has experienced, Tan-Tan crafts two separate identities: the good Tan-Tan and the bad Tan-Tan, one that is good and one to escape to in traumatic situations. The Tan-Tan we meet at age sixteen is not happy. She has been taught from age nine that she is bad, evil, (view spoiler)[by both Janisette, her stepmother, and Antonio, her father. (hide spoiler)] This compartmentalization and splitting of identity is what allows Tan-Tan to survive. She even crafts yet another identity, Robber Queen. The Robber Queen’s words speak against mistreatment. When stories begin to spread about the Robber Queen, Tan-Tan barely can believe them. She has been so broken down; how can she be anything like the Robber Queen of myth and legend?
Tan-Tan learns, over time, to allow her Good Tan-Tan self, her Robber Queen self, to become not a persona but a part of her. This comes first and foremost from acceptance. In her many months alone, as she becomes close friends with Abitefa, the Douen woman she meets. She saves a Rolling Calf pup, one whose mother she has accidentally hurt: this helps her to remember that she is able to love and to care, that she is not evil. And she reunites with Melonhead, her childhood best friend. To Melonhead, she initially feels the need to perform something uncorrupted, and is ashamed of having been raped—“shit” (302), she says when it slips out—yet when he figures out, in what she has purposefully not said, he simply reaches for her hand. It is through these connections of love and kindness that she has learned that what has happened is not her fault, not something she must punish herself for. Bad Tan-Tan is not bad; she has done nothing. (view spoiler)[“Is love that get the Robber Queen born,” the crowd says (320). Perhaps they are right. It is this love that gives her the courage, finally, to unite herself. (hide spoiler)]
There is a lot more to say about this book because I really liked this book. The ending made me cry, in a very good way. I really like the setting of the novel and the Douen culture: this feels like a single story in a very wide world, which is a type of sff I really love.
I also liked how Midnight Robber uses a science fiction and fantastical (this feels like a blend of both) setting to explore themes that echo real life. The sci-fi tech of the world is removed, but not an evil force: instead, a benevolent one. In the same 2002 interview, Hopkinson said this: “As a young reader, mimetic fiction (fiction that mimics reality) left me feeling unsatisfied. The general message that I got from it was "life sucks, sometimes it's not too bad, but mostly people are mean to each other, then they die." But, rightly or wrongly, I felt as though I'd already figured that out. I felt that I didn't need to read fiction in order to experience it. But folktales and fables and the old epic tales (Homer's Iliad, for instance) felt as though they lived in a different dimension.”
Midnight Robber is written in Caribbean vernacular, which some reviewers seem to have taken issue with. Within a few pages, this language becomes easy to read—the prose, though complex, is incredibly well written. Hopkinson writes primarily in Trinidadian; for Midnight Robber, she purposefully blended this with Jamaican and Guyanese. Worldbuilding terms, meanwhile, have origins in various cultures: the word ‘Douen’ comes from a term for Caribbean children who die before their naming ceremonies. It's easy to discount the level of thought that goes into this writing style. Don't. Metaphorically, in Midnight Robber, this blend of dialects functions as the language of a people. In a 2002 interview, Hopkinson noted that she believes Midnight Robber could work in Yiddish, because: “Yiddish, near as I can tell, carries the historical sense of being the language of a people whose diasporic spread has at times been forced upon them, and it also, I think, has the sense of being a language ‘of the people.’” It is this that matters about Hopkinson’s language.
I think it is very easy to read literature by Caribbean authors, written in dialogues some may consider 'other' or 'exotic', and view it through that prism and lens. But though the language of this book is certainly noteworthy, and an extremely important part of its message, to afford mention only to such qualities is beyond the pale.
It is an excellent story and an incredible discussion of trauma, and Tan-Tan's character development is very good. And the ending made me cry.
Perhaps the only thing worse than fear is apathy. Fear makes us do horrible things to people. Apathy makes us allow horrible things to happen
Perhaps the only thing worse than fear is apathy. Fear makes us do horrible things to people. Apathy makes us allow horrible things to happen to them. When we act in fear, or when we don't act out of empathy, that is when we become the monster.
Oh my god this was brilliant. This short story collection is sci-fi fantasy and has so much to say about gender, and the Gaze, and Nalo Hopkinson's writing is honest to god so good.
I think Hopkinson sums up this collection quite well in this interview:
As a young reader, mimetic fiction (fiction that mimics reality) left me feeling unsatisfied. The general message that I got from it was "life sucks, sometimes it's not too bad, but mostly people are mean to each other, then they die." But, rightly or wrongly, I felt as though I'd already figured that out. I felt that I didn't need to read fiction in order to experience it.
It's a use of fantasy elements as something often horrifying, scary, yes, but something that leads to truth, catharsis, release.
Some quotes in this book that made me go absolutely wild: Do you like people making you be not real? The only time we seem to reach each other now is through our skins. So I bought something to make our skins feel more, and it’s still not enough.
I also want to mention before starting these reviews, that I essentially enjoyed every story here: a lot of my four-stars probably could’ve been five stars in any other collection; I just felt weird rating almost every story a five, so I was pickier than I usually would’ve been. My ratings came down to personal taste - I think every single story in this book is worth reading.
➽Riding the Red ★★★★★ About a grandmother, a wolf, the question of which is which, and a repeated story, revolving around each year. A haunting introduction.
➽The Money Tree ★★★★☆ About a sister, a brother, a golden table, a river, and the valuation of human life. This was a cool class discussion.
➽Something to Hitch Meat To ★★★★★ A story about reality and the colonial gaze. This was one of my favorites.
➽Snake ★★★★★ A story about justice. This was a lot. The ending is so good. TW for (view spoiler)[pedophilia. (hide spoiler)]
➽Under Glass ★★★☆☆ A story about a glass wind. One of the most gorgeously written pieces. I don’t think I really got the message of this.
➽The Glass Bottle Trick ★★★★★ A story about womanhood and the power of ghosts and yes, reminded me a lot of Snake. I know what this was inspired by but I don’t want to say because it’s such a cool takeoff you should experience it. TW, (view spoiler)[domestic abuse. (hide spoiler)]
➽Slow Cold Chick ★★★★★ A story about a giant bird, queerness, and the voicing of desire. This is so good, one of my absolute favorites.
➽Fisherman ★★★★☆ A story about gender. This is honestly like, 70% porn. The only one with no fantasy elements, but still feels suited to being here?
➽Tan-Tan and Dry Bone ★★★☆☆ A fairy tale-style story set in the world of Midnight Robber. Love Tan-Tan. I don’t think I got this.
➽Greedy Choke Puppy ★★★★☆ A story about greed, vampirism, and the reality of folklore. Very creepy. Relies about 75% on a twist that I saw coming.
➽A Habit of Waste ★★★★☆ A story about skin liminality, the rejection of the body due to racism and the gaze, and realizing your body can still be correct. I liked this one a lot.
➽And the Lillies-Them A-Blow ★★★★☆ A very haunting story about hearing the song of bones, and about different kinds of death.
➽Whose Upward Flight I Love One page long story about trees. I'm not rating this until a time when I read more flash fiction and attempt to understand it, as a genre.
➽Ganger (Ball Lightning) ★★★★★ A story about a futuristic sex toy and submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known. The gender of it all. This is also like, 70% porn. However, the ending slaps so hard.
➽Precious ★★★★★ A story about being loved vs. being owned. This was one of my favorites in the book and an absolutely perfect ending.
An interesting psychological work about abuse. “It is not his feelings the abuser is too distant from: it is his partner’s feelings and his childreAn interesting psychological work about abuse. “It is not his feelings the abuser is too distant from: it is his partner’s feelings and his children’s feelings. Those are the emotions that he knows so little about and that he needs to get in touch with.” He reframes abuse as something not done because of bad feelings, but because of a lack of empathy for the feelings of others. He reframes the problem of abuse as not one of anger, but of the actual conscious choice to abuse partners. “The sad reality is that plenty of gentle, sensitive men are viciously abusive to their female partners.” Abusive partners, in the experience of this author as an abuse counselor, do not usually “lose control”; they make justifications for their actions. He explains it thus: “Their value system is unhealthy, not their psychology.” Any connection between emotional abuse and mental illness has gone unproven.
He reframes often-repeated ideas about low self-esteem and childhood abuse as the causes for further abuse, and points out that for every abuser who was abused as a child, there is another victim of abuse who does not themselves abuse.
Okay so, to be real, I dislike some of the assertions about men and women in this book — the author’s experience in abuse counseling has been that many men who are abusers themselves accuse their ex-girlfriends of being crazy, and this is really important to point out, but also, the straight-faced assertion that straight women (straight women, because this author does believe lesbians can abuse. I don’t think he’s aware of bi people yet no one tell him about them) are literally never abusive to their partners is... it’s interesting, and it also is going to require a lot more citation. I do like the lens that abuse is caused, in the vast majority of cases, by patriarchy — but like, never? never? literally never has a wife abused a husband? This breaks down immediately when the author asserts that gay women can abuse (I don’t even think this is homophobic, it’s framed as a pro-lesbian-victims statement and that was good). So like, women can abuse, but only some of them? Citation needed.
While I was annoyed by both this, and the lack of citations on statistics (in nonfiction you need to cite any statistics that you trot out as fact.) I do think this is a wonderful guide for abused women to recognize their situations. That is its ultimate value.
On a more personal level, the descriptions of the family dynamic in custody battles is........ so disturbingly and disruptively close to home. There’s one description of psychological testing that genuinely made me rethink a good deal of my life. So that was cool.
Overall, a solid introduction to the history of Afrofuturism, the themes that often appear in Afrofuturistic texts, and its future.
Womack argues thatOverall, a solid introduction to the history of Afrofuturism, the themes that often appear in Afrofuturistic texts, and its future.
Womack argues that Afrofuturism uses hope to counter the hopelessness that experiences of systematic racism can bring forth in future generations.
Imagination, hope, and the expectation for transformative change is a through line that undergirds most Afrofuturistic art, literature, music, and criticism. It is the collective weighted belief that anchors the aesthetic. It is the prism through which some create their way of life. It’s a view of the world. Where there is no vision, the people perish.
Some things that I liked about this framing: ➽The idea of science fiction being, in some cases, less traumatic than the actual past of black people ➽The idea of technology and aliens as a good rather than an evil ➽The questioning of why we actually think of aliens as “bad” ➽Janelle Monae having an entire section of her own (as she deserves) ➽The emphasis on how this has always existed, and the history of people such as Sun Ra
afrofuturism 2019: book one *Fair warning: at least twelve of the books I read in the next few months are going to be for my Afrofuturism class. So far, we've read Binti and Skin Folk. I'm so excited for more.
YA fantasy romance is a genre that rarely serves me, a lesbian, this well, but Julie C. Dao understands tenderness and was ready to give it to us. ThiYA fantasy romance is a genre that rarely serves me, a lesbian, this well, but Julie C. Dao understands tenderness and was ready to give it to us. This was excellent.
She looked up and saw the love in Bao’s eyes—the love that had never left him, not even in his anger—and she couldn’t help feeling that it might all be worth it. It wasn’t just the right thing to do; she knew now that even without a spell, it was what she wanted to do.
As Song of the Crimson Flower begins, upper-class Lan is in love with Tam, a wealthy nobleman, who, though he keeps delaying the wedding, also sends her letters and (she thinks) plays his flute every evening for her. When she first finds out that it was never real, that she was never loved by Tam, she is angry and upset and takes it out on Bao, the boy who truly loves her. When she goes to apologize, she finds that Bao has been cursed, and they must journey much further to attempt to break his curse.
Julie C. Dao avoids the trap of simply berating Lan for this (of course nasty) action. Instead, she is given room to understand the true nature of the world: the fact that there are men (and people in general) far nobler and kinder than her ex-fiancé. And along the way, she discovers that she may truly want different things than she has allowed herself to hope for. Lan’s character arc is subtle but very wonderful, revolving around her journey learning to separate herself from selfish men, and the grounding force of this whole book. I really really appreciate that this romance does not depend on Lan having to figure out that she was wrong to ever not want Bao; instead, it depends on her falling for him, independent of guilt.
Bao is a well-written character in his own right, one I found instantly easy to sympathize with. He is in a bad situation but still manages to be kind and caring and considerate towards others, and it is this that endears him both to Lan and other characters. A wide cast of side characters were easy to root for, as well; one is a character who I did not particularly like in Forest of a Thousand Lanterns, but found easy to empathize with here. While the major conflict involving side characters is perhaps not particularly narratively relevant, I enjoyed both of the characters enough to get invested anyway.
I absolutely loved how concisely and cleanly the beginning set the tone and mood of the book — I was instantly hooked. Bao’s character introduction in particular immediately made me love him, establishing him as kind and generous and already finding ways to solve his desperate need for a family. Bao and Lan’s scenes together are equally perfectly paced and well-timed, gaining your sympathy for them both and growing your appreciation for Bao’s kindness. The opening also establishes the world through conversations that feel like genuine explanations; we learn about this world’s problems as Lan does, in a way that is satisfying to the audience.
I say this all because Forest of a Thousand Lanterns had me struggling slightly with pacing of plot and character development. With this book, however, Dao was right-off-the-bat fixing that issue.
“I’ve never stopped caring for you,” he said shakily. “I don’t know if I ever could.” “Well, then,” she said, “stop taking your affection out on me.”
This romance was just… so tender. Bao is kind and undemanding in his love for Lan on a level that I think really resonated with me. And I really really loved seeing their relationship build over time. spoilers on a romance I stan:(view spoiler)[I loved the bit where Bao is checking Lan’s legs for injuries and she’s like “god I wish your hands were higher”. Also, the bit where Lan is like “are you afraid you’ll see my ankles and be seduced” and Bao says “I already have… WAIT, I MEANT SEEN YOUR ANKLES” is so so cute. (hide spoiler)]
The thing is, as a reader, I really really love love. Romance and tenderness are such important forces. The romance genre, however, and the ya romance genre, often play with depictions of relationships that feel really alienating to me. Putting aside the many books about men who treat everyone around them badly and are quickly forgiven for it when they decide to treat their love interests well: I do not personally resonate with characters who fall in love while hardly knowing each other. Song of the Crimson Flower is based on a story about a boy who falls in love with a girl while not quite knowing her, but its arc is based around a realization of similarity deep down.
This book was an excellent reading experience for me and after Forest of a Thousand Lanterns didn’t quite click for me (though I loved the writing), I’m really glad this book worked so well for me. @ Julie C. Dao thank you.
First year of college and so many excellent books read already! This was only updated as of August 1st, 2019, but here are a few books I loved in 2019First year of college and so many excellent books read already! This was only updated as of August 1st, 2019, but here are a few books I loved in 2019!
It’s taken me a very long time to feel comfortable giving this any review, even a brief one. I think my take on this is that it did not work for me, pIt’s taken me a very long time to feel comfortable giving this any review, even a brief one. I think my take on this is that it did not work for me, personally. Much of it is simply a scree of evil countered by an apology for that evil. Reading the narrator’s abhorrent thoughts about his daughter, in particular, was almost too much. My realization, to be quite honest, was that for this, a sorry could never have been enough. Nor should it be.
I believe reading this at age 18 is perhaps very different than writing this after a full career. I am glad the author could receive catharsis through this.
Devastating and powerful and quite well written, and I definitely want to read The Vagina Monologues now, but I don't think I can ever touch this again.
“Mother must be dying.” “Stop trying to cheer me up.”
Now that, my friends, is what we in the business call a wild ride. This is a ridiculou
“Mother must be dying.” “Stop trying to cheer me up.”
Now that, my friends, is what we in the business call a wild ride. This is a ridiculous 1970s soap opera that I could not help but enjoy, but I think above all else, it made me hunger on a deep level for a San Francisco I’ve never experienced.
Well. We’ll talk about that in a little while. For now, let’s just say this: Tales of the City is a wild ride from start to finish. On both the level of “this is fucking hilarious” and “holy shit, that was a plot twist”. It’s like someone combined Revenge, the 2012 television show, with The Office. It made me feel like I was on crack. I loved it.
“Finally, she looks at him intently and says, in a voice fraught with meaning, ‘which do you think you’d prefer, Rich? S or M?’” “And?” “He thought it was something to put on the hamburger.”
The tone of these is so delightfully absurdist — you have to lean into the humor a bit and suspend your disbelief to get to the good bits. Actually, it took me a while to get that the chapters were being absurd on purpose (okay, so I received these without context).
Some highlights of the admittedly ridiculous character cast include: →Mary Ann, a San Francisco newbie trying to make it but making bad romantic decisions along the way. Often dumb but occasionally iconic. →Mona, Mary Ann’s first friend when she comes to town. Best friend to Michael. Excellent person with some drug issues. →Michael, a gay icon, Mona’s best friend and second roommate. Constantly looking for long-term love but hasn’t found it yet. →Anna Madrigal, landlord to Mona and later Mary Ann and Michael. Mentor type. Some secrets of her own. →Beachamp, rich and seemingly happy husband to DeDe. Secretly dissatisfied. Sort of a dirtbag. →DeDe, rich daughter of a richer man. Not always the smartest. →Edgar, dissatisfied dying man trying to come to terms with a wasted life via his new friendship with a certain landlord. Father to Dede and husband to Frannie. →Brian, disaster and a half. Token heterosexual. One-time lover to Mary Ann. →Jon, possible lover to Michael. Gynecologist. →Dorothea, black lesbian back in town to get back her old lover. →Vincent, depressed crisis hotline operator whose wife has left him to join the Israeli army. →Norman, older man living on the top floor. Maybe a few secrets.
I think in basically any other book, this character cast would’ve been absurd, but in this book, they feel perfectly believable. I love how all of the characters are written as both flawed and at times selfish but still generally endearing. And the comics are not without their moments of genuine heart: the relationship between Anna and Edgar is honestly really wonderful and tender, and the friendship between Mona and Michael is — honest to god — peak mlm/wlw solidarity. (You will not be surprised to know they were my favorites.)
Due to the serial format, these issues often feel very distinct, at times dealing with very different characters and themes. But I definitely had some favorite scenes and plotlines.
➽Here are some of my book highlights (light spoilers only): →Anna giving Mary Ann a joint as a welcome to San Francisco gift →Michael’s meet-cute with Jon, which takes place at a skating rink after he breaks his nose trying to subtly skate up next to him →when a feminist talking about rape shows up at Dede’s country club and a minor character says delightedly “this is better than when they brought the bulldyke in!” →the scene in which Brian is trying to sleep with a woman who thinks he’s gay and trying to sleep with women to repress it, and who then, when he says he’s not gay, says clinically “You must not be in touch with your body” and walks out. an ally →when Michael answers a call from Mary Ann’s mom and her mom is scandalized about the strange man at her apartment and she then has to tell her mother about the existence of gay people →Mary Ann getting hired at a crisis hotline, accidentally making a pun about playing it by ear, and then contemplating biting her own tongue off →the scene in which Frannie is unloading all her problems but cutting it with “no, but I wouldn’t want to burden you, darling” and you think it’s like, to a friend, and it’s to her fucking dog →WHEN MICHAEL’S PARENTS FIND LUBE IN HIS FUCKING REFRIGERATOR →when Brian asks Michael to go cruising with him and Michael is like… why are straight people like this but then does it anyway. relatable content from 1978 →the guy who photocopied his dick and used the enlarger
And before I get serious, a brief spoiler section: about a bicon:(view spoiler)[Listen, from the very first page, Mona had bi energy. More importantly her and Michael were at PEAK mlm/wlw solidarity and I literally typed in my review notes “I know she’s straight but this is mlm/wlw solidarity at its finest” and then it WAS. actually I think the book isn’t really taking a position on her sexuality (she actually says she’d prefer a long term friendship to having a lover at one point and i was like okay!! !! ! ! ! ! legend ! ! ! !!). it’s just as long as we acknowledge that Mona is in no way a heterosexual we’re good (hide spoiler)] it’s Michael Sad hours, really no spoilers just a rant:(view spoiler)[I actually absolutely love the way Michael is written. because this portrayal of the gay scene is clearly a reflection of promiscuity being really mainstream at that time, a hard-earned freedom. but the narrative still makes it so clear that he just… genuinely wants love? (Michael’s energy in this is the same as my energy when I tweet about wanting a gf every day.) but in all reality, it’s a wonderfully subtle arc and the scene with his parents made me die inside just a little bit. (hide spoiler)] some incredible plot twists:(view spoiler)[okay holy SHIT the minor reveals of characters being involved with each other? INCREDIBLE. I LOVED the way the book did the Mona/Dor reveal, that’s a built reveal babes. the revelation about BEAUCHAMP? when he’s in the bathhouse and Jon sees him? absurd. the fucking Norman investigating Anna reveal left me shook as hell because it immediately made so much sense especially given Edgar’s earlier talk about the Madrigal’s being ridiculous!! Jon being Dede’s FUCKING gynecologist?? ? ?? ?? The thing with Lexy and Norman was awful :(( I loved connecting the dots. the point is I was left shook by so much of this (hide spoiler)] some less incredible plot twists:(view spoiler)[The only thing is that I did not like the twist about Dor, at all. I think it has some really awful connotations to have the only black character in your novel actually be white. I know it’s a soap opera from 1970 but this made me super mad and is honestly the only reason I'm even tempted to not give this a five. (hide spoiler)]
The thing is, I said I was going to get serious, and there’s something I need to say. Conservatives have long loathed it as the axis of liberal politics and political correctness, but now progressives are carping, too. They mourn it for what has been lost, a city that long welcomed everyone and has been altered by an earthquake of wealth. -from Washington Post's How San Francisco Broke America’s Heart I grew up 10 miles south of San Francisco — at the time of writing this, I'm leaving for college in almost exactly a week — with a mother who works as an opera singer up in the city. When I was eight, I knew without a doubt that as soon as I left for college, my mother would be selling our house in favor of a nice apartment near SF opera, as most of her friends had. Ten years later, the idea itself is ludicrous. The money we would receive for selling our (fairly nice) house wouldn't pay rent on anything but a studio. Many of my mother's friends have moved to Oakland, taking long commutes simply to arrive. One of my best friends lives with her family in Brentwood, an area past Oakland and two hours from San Francisco — her mom works a job in Woodside so she can attend a private school in the Bay Area.
I grew up knowing San Francisco as a place of gay culture and a thriving arts scene — a place with a large homeless population and some crime, but also a place where people came to be themselves. Now, I know it as a city where the culture of old residents is rapidly disappearing, replaced with the more homogenous Silicon Valley scene.
In reading this book where San Francisco is known as a weird and quirky city with a thriving gay scene, I found myself mourning for a San Francisco (and a Bay Area) I am barely old enough to have experienced, let alone to remember. I've known for years that I wanted to leave for college, but I wonder sometimes whether, thirty years earlier, I would've wanted to come back.
There’s a cliche in reviewing where you say something along these lines: “I wouldn’t like these characters in real life, but I found them compelling.”There’s a cliche in reviewing where you say something along these lines: “I wouldn’t like these characters in real life, but I found them compelling.” See, I don’t think that’s why this book works. I think this book works because in real life we would probably like these characters; respect their talent, find them interesting if at times flawed or condescending, look up to them on a level at which we would at times resent them and at times want to be them. It’s just that none of us would ever know these characters, because these characters do not want to be known.
“You underestimate your own power so you don't have to blame yourself for treating other people badly.”
Conversations with Friends is a book about four people: two ex-girlfriends and best friends, Frances and Bobbi, and a married couple, Nick and Melissa. Frances and Nick end up falling, over time, into a strange romance.
But… it’s not about the cheating. The book refuses to make it that simple. Bobbi and Melissa have their own strange connection, as do Frances and Bobbi, as do Nick and Melissa, of course; the six connections within this circle are all given both pagetime and weight within the narrative. On some level, we’re not rooting for any one of these characters over the others; we see the complex levels on which any ending for these four would be painful. At times, I disliked all four of these characters; at times, I loved all four. But at all times, they felt real.
(view spoiler)[There is a scene in this book in which Frances goes home to her father and plays nice and awkward for an afternoon, and looking into a dishwasher, feels “a sudden impulse to harm herself.” It is small and brief and a throwaway line and yet it felt so vivid, so real, that I was unable to pull out of my head the feeling of standing there waiting for the storm to come, desperately, and suddenly feeling as though the world will come apart if you do not hurt yourself physically, a sign of how your insides are being torn apart. (hide spoiler)]
(view spoiler)[There’s a line where Frances says she enjoys talking to Nick because he gives her unconditional empathy, while Bobbi “applies her standards” about the world to conversations about Frances. I don’t know why that hit so hard I just know that it did? (hide spoiler)]
There’s this quote from a New York Times oped that I think about a lot: [image] Frances’ central conflict, as we learn over the course of this book, is that she is unable to allow others to see her vulnerability, to see that she cares for them or is hurt by them or even that she simply enjoys their company. She wishes to be cool and distant and yet still utterly lovable.
“The acclaim also felt like part of the performance itself, the best part, and the most pure expression of what I was trying to do, which was to make myself into this kind of person: someone worthy of praise, worthy of love.”
The problem is that we need to allow ourselves to be known to be truly loved.
It is this refusal to submit to intimacy that becomes the primary conflict of the book; in her relationship with Bobbi, with Nick, and even with Melissa, she constantly attempts (with increasing desperation) to refuse any breaking of her walls. It is only as the book continues that she begins to understand others do love her, and want to know her.
SOME OF MY FURTHER FAVORITE MOMENTS: (view spoiler)[ ▷“Maybe he just likes to act passive so he doesn’t have to take the blame for anything.” ▶“It was more that Nick’s sympathy seemed unconditional, whereas Bobbi had strong principles that she applied to everyone, me included.” ▷“I feel like I should thank you for making me a tolerable person to live with.” ▶“I wonder if we gravitate toward Nick because he gives us a sense of control that was lacking in childhood.” ▷“To him, my arm was not important. He was only concerned with making his child feel bad, making her feel ashamed.” ▶“I’m a bad mother, she said, that’s what you’re saying. If that’s the conclusion you draw from the facts, that’s your business, I said. She told me I had never loved my father anyway. According to you the only way to love someone is to let them treat you like shit, I said.” ▷“When you broke up with me I felt you beat me at a game we were playing together, and I wanted to come back and beat you. Now I think I just want to sleep with you, without metaphors.” ▶“Is it possible we could develop an alternative model of loving each other? I’m not drunk. Please write back. I love you.” ▷“But it’s harder to work out who has the power, so instead we rely on ‘niceness’ as a kind of stand-in.” ▶“But at some level I still see you as the person who broke my heart and left me unfit for normal relationships.” “You underestimate your own power so you don’t have to blame yourself for treating other people badly. You tell yourself stories about it.” (hide spoiler)]
“I had the sense that something in my life had ended, my image of myself as a whole or normal person maybe.”
This is a book made up of tiny moments of humanity, of vulnerability and tenderness. We see these characters hold up their walls at almost every moment to the point that any moment of tenderness or kindness between them feels like a revelation. I cried several times, barely knowing why; I just knew I hurt for these characters. This one will stay with me for a long, long time.
In a word: there is a line between acknowledging trauma and reveling in it, and I think this book crosses that line over and over again.
I have nothingIn a word: there is a line between acknowledging trauma and reveling in it, and I think this book crosses that line over and over again.
I have nothing but respect for the writing style and illustration style of the book — each are clever and story-serving in their own ways. Indeed, this is a book written primarily with the intent of shocking the audience, challenging the audience. This is good. It is good to shock and challenge your audience. But this cannot hold up a book on its own. Narratives must offer catharsis, growth, and change to feel dynamic and interesting, rather than to feel like a simple fetishization of pain.
The book starts off following a 13-year-old girl’s repeated sexual and physical abuse by her stepfather. At first, my assumption was that this was to offer a point about abuse, catharsis for the lead, development for the lead, or some combination. It does none of the above. It does offer, however, both physical and verbal abuse from her mother, a lot more sex, an abusive relationship with another girl, a lot of drug use, and several pedophilic sexual assaults on both Minnie and Minnie’s friends.
It is this, primarily, that I had a problem with. I don’t think the narrative of this book is interested in unpacking the trauma Minnie has experienced, or unpacking the logistics of a society desperate to take all agency and bodily control from young women. It is not interested in unpacking the effects on Minnie, simply on thrusting the next torment on her.
The blurb of this book describes it as such:
This is the story of a young woman troubled by the discontinuity between what she thinks and feels and what she observes in those around her.
And it is that, I suppose. She is troubled by the contrast between her budding mind and the long list of men waiting to take advantage of her. But throughout this book, through every scene, I never felt as though the book actually cared.
I discovered while perusing Goodreads that a lot of this book is essentially excerpts from the author’s diary. And I think writing about trauma of this nature can be incredibly cathartic on its own, a simple letting out. But… I don’t particularly see the value in reading it, in the sense that it is a fictional narrative.
Diary of a Teenage Girl does not offer growth or change. It offers one long strain of misery. And I’m just not sure I see very much value in that.
TW: many many graphic sexual assault scenes, a very large amount of pedophilia, drug use, forced drug use.
literally every day I'm thinking about how this book was published in 1990 and in 2019 they finally made a miniseries and Neil Gaiman was like. hey. lliterally every day I'm thinking about how this book was published in 1990 and in 2019 they finally made a miniseries and Neil Gaiman was like. hey. let's make this even more of a romcom than it already was just for the fuck of it
I keep trying to land on what I think is the objective Best Thing about this ridiculous book that I loved reading so much and I think I’ve landed on this paragraph from a delightful review of the 2019 miniseries:
“Good Omens knows that you can’t look at a screen without being presented with some version of the apocalypse, and so it foregoes any pretence of bombastic grandeur to instead tell a charming story about the joys of friendship, as well as the everyday fuckups that make the world feel as if it’s coming to an end, when in reality it’s just another day that ends in y.”
I think what’s entertaining about this book is that it takes concepts we all, on some level, are familiar with and maybe even fearful of — the possibility of imminent death, for one — and makes them entertaining and even at times comedic.
In all honesty, Good Omens is a hysterically funny book about four eleven year olds, a witch working off some very accurate prophecies, a witchfinder who's doing his best, a Bentley that turns every album played in it into Queen, and an angel and a demon with a six-thousand-year-old friendship¹ all trying to stop the apocalypse. (Badly. Very badly.) It is also a love letter to humanity and to the power of free will and choice in a world desperate to wrench it away. You should read it.²
TW: multiple slurs used in ways that do not fly and aren't funny.³
————— ¹It's called a marriage but we couldn't say that in 1990. ²Also you should watch the miniseries, it's joining the Big Little Lies season one and Gone Girl (2012) canon of best adaptations ³literally picture me as John Mulaney yelling "not funny"
Sapphic historical fiction.... truly the best thing since sliced bread
They were here all along: spotting comets, naming stars, pointing telesc
Sapphic historical fiction.... truly the best thing since sliced bread
They were here all along: spotting comets, naming stars, pointing telescopes at the sky alongside their fathers and brothers and sons. And still the men they worked with scorned them.
A Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics is a historical romance novel about two girls who fall in unlikely love. Lucy is an aspiring astronomer whose father has recently died and whose lover has gotten married to a man she does not love. Catherine is a widower of a famous scientist whose anger at her often outweighed his kindness.
The thing is that as well as living in a society that enforces strict homophobia, Catherine and Lucy live in a society that devalues relationships that do not end in marriage. So though the two have a loving, mutually trusting relationship by around 50% of the way through the book, each is quite convinced that the other will, at any moment, leave them.
I was deeply impressed by how the author pulled this off: there’s no dramatic miscommunication, per se, but instead an expression of anxiety from both sides that leads them both to understand the relationship as meaning less to the other person than it does to them. Celestial Mechanics manages to pull this off in such a matter-of-fact, honest manner that it’s impossible to read as a trope. It’s simply an expression of the honest insecurities of these two characters, and esolutions come when character growth comes, rather than when the plot calls for it.
“...I realized I needed to stop bracing myself for the stuff I mentioned above, because, amazingly, it kept not coming. And there's a lesson for histfic authors: you don't have to pretend that historical times weren't a cesspool of misogyny, homophobia and racism, but it's entirely possible to write a book for the people who have historically been hurt and marginalized that focuses on the good stuff instead of on the awful. This book is proof of that.”
Because that is one of the things that amazes me the most about this book: it focuses on and deals with homophobia in a culture and how it is internalized by the lead characters, but it focuses that energy towards development and crafting tenderness and love between these two characters.
I think there is a lot of value in lit that talks about and deconstructs historical homophobia, but it should be noted, in saying that, that much of this type of literature is written by and for the heterosexual lens. This book is absolutely not that. Side queer characters are involved and given their own non-tragic stories; Catherine’s aunt is notable in that. And the pain and trauma of homophobia is only used to explain the character’s internalized homophobia and build their characters, and only subtly. That is not to say stories involving homophobia on-page cannot be worthwhile — past homophobia can and should be explored in a way that puts queer people front and center — but I loved that this one avoided it entirely.
Celestial Mechanics also impressively targets not only the devaluation of the work women do in their selected fields, but also how “women’s fields” which actually require great amounts of talent are systematically devalued. Catherine’s work as an embroiderer is simply not respected, while Lucy’s work is given to men to receive credit; each of them, however, suffer from a devaluation of craft. This becomes a major element of their relationship and of each’s character development and I thought it was wonderful. Also, I am a total nerd about translated work, and the fact thatthe politics of translation became such a major narrative in this book was so entertaining.
Something I genuinely loved about this story was the way in which Catherine’s characterization was crafted. Catherine’s husband, we learn fairly quickly on, was prone to rage. So Catherine, within the first half of the book, is constantly on edge around others, expecting that they’re about to snap at any second. It is only after spending a great deal of time with Lucy in which Lucy does not snap that she begins to regain trust. I thought the narrative dealt with this with a degree of respect for both Catherine and Lucy that is frankly and tragically unprecedented.
Oh god, um, I know I’ve said a lot about this book being excellent, but it’s also just… a really good romance? I frankly don’t read a ton of romance as it’s not my gig and also there are no sapphics in romance ever, but this! romance! was so tender and full of so much kindness and care between these two characters. It’s just angsty enough to get you immediately invested but not so angsty as to be upsetting; each character is so well-crafted and well-respected by the narrative. Also, it’s just really fucking well written. I think I might end up going back to my kindle notes after I post this review because I think I highlighted half of the book (it’s actually a little embarrassing).
In case you didn’t notice. I really loved this book. I didn’t want this book to end. I delayed reading the last 5% simply because I didn’t want it to end and I never do that. This is a very very special romance and I would highly, highly recommend it. *Thank you so, SO much to Macmillan for the arc.
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