L. Rambit's Blog, page 3

April & May 2021

If you don't want to read me bitching for multiple paragraphs, just skip past this and scroll down to the books.

I keep waiting for things to get easier, but... They haven't, so I'm just dealing with them. Don't you hate when people tell you not to feel sorry for yourself /quit having a pity party? Fuck you, Mildred, I'll have as many pity parties as I want! I am not a person who pretends to be okay when I'm not, and if you have a problem with that, you can bite this chubby ass.

I wouldn't say I'm okay, or even verging on it, but I'm forcing myself to take action, which is better than nothing. I spoke with my psychiatrist, who put me on new meds and hooked me up with one of the trauma specialists on his payroll. That's cool. I cut waaay back on food delivery... I've only ordered out three times in the last two weeks (as opposed to several times a day, every day. That's pretty good). I cleaned all the rotting food out of my fridge (that hambone has been in there for at least four months. I told you it was bad!). I cleaned my kitchen (somewhat. A very half-assed cleaning. Look, at least there are no longer moldering, mysterious substances of possible supernatural/malicious origin in my sink. And I can use the stove again. Which I do! I've started cooking* again! Yay me).

*Does pasta and scrambled eggs and Crock-Pot beans count as cooking? I'm gonna count it. I heated food up without the use of a microwave. Ergo, cooking.

Debt is still a problem (not AS much, though. I got some help.) Sleep is still an unadressed problem. Yes I've applied for new jobs. No, I haven't heard back from anyone. Have I made any progress on publishing my memoir? No, I have not. Shush. I move slowly, but at least I'm moving. Kind of. Picture a very lethargic slug with Bob Belcher's views on complaining; that's the level of effort we're talking about here.

Okay; I promise I'm done talking now. These are the books I've read lately.

April 2021:

In what is the last (currently available) Dublin Murder Squad book, #6, The Trespasser, Detective Antoinette Conway struggles with the hazing of the boys' club squad. Only her squad partner, Stephen, stays in her corner... And even he is getting tired of her constant aggressiveness and paranoia. (Justified paranoia, but still.) When a case of romance gone wrong comes their way, it seems obvious who the killer is: a boyfriend with a penchant for stalking and peeping. But of course, things are never so simple in this series... #6 took a while to get going, and Antoinette is an acquired taste (she's funny, but mean,), but soon Tana French's masterful plot-weaving and characterization shines through as Antoinette's family and work lives all become entangled parallels to the victim's. If this is the last book in the series (which I hope it's not), I'll be satisfied. It was a great, Tana-esque conclusion with everything falling so satisfyingly into place, often at the worst possible time: just a hair too late.

Oh, baby. You wanna know how I like my cups of tea? The Familiar Dark can tell you! This was NASTY and MEAN. Also very short, at about 230 pages. I breezed through it in one evening, unable to put it down. Set in the poorest corner of the Ozarks, single mother Eve is shaken when her pre-teen daughter is murdered. Going back to her roots of abusive exes and meth-addict parents, she's determined to find her daughter's killer and make them pay... Just like all the members of her family did before her. This had a lot to say in a very small space about the thickness of blood vs water, apples falling from trees, and how there's no way to "win" at being a woman in a world that hates us. Y'all know how I love protagonists (especially female ones) that get their hands dirty and do terrible, foolish, self-destructive, messy, ugly things, right? This was made for me. (It reminded me a little of the excellent 2017 film, "Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri," only shorter and more streamlined.)

I finally dipped my toe in the Gillian Flynn pool (I know, I know; everyone except me has read her stuff by now). I started with her first novel, Sharp Objects. Whew, this was a ride... I feel like parts of this book went over my head. It was obviously saying something about motherhood gone wrong and female gender roles in the conservative south, but hell if I know what. Did I like this book? Not really. As stated above, I love seriously screwed up female protagonists and relationships between women, which this delivered in spades. Still, Camille irritated me as a protagonist. I think it's because we both have parental abuse/maternal abuse as backstories, but she responds to hers so differently than I do. She became... Clingy, desperate for her mother's approval. I accepted at a super young age that I'd never have that maternal love and became a rebellious slacker. It's very grating for me to see this character folding to her mother's manipulations. The scene where Camille lets her mother give her a bath was actually triggering for me; I got unreasonably angry and nauseous. If my mom tried to steamroll me like that. I would've thrown punches; I know this for a fact. I wanted Camille to throw punches, too (yes I understand why she didn't. Yes, I understand every case of abuse is different. That doesn't change my feelings). This whole thing was off-putting and unpleasant all the way through, but I finished it in one afternoon of Covid vaccine-induced fever, so... Cool.

Since I liked Familiar Dark so much, I grabbed Engel's previous book, The Roanoke Girls. Sadly, it wasn't nearly as good (which is a positive sign! It means the author is improving! Good for you, Amy), and I gave it three stars. (For a relatively short book, I swear there was a sex scene in every other chapter. I'm no prude, but my lesbian ass can only handle so much hetero nonsense. Babe, no matter how many times you describe this dude's abs, it won't make me like him. Abs are not an acceptable substitute for personality.) It tells the story of the female children of the Roanoke family over three generations, how they always either run away or die... Or both. The big twist (which is revealed about 10 pages in), is that they're all the products of incest, having been sired and screwed by kindly patriarch Yates. Apparently nobody taught Grandad what condoms are for, as he keeps knocking up his female relatives. Ick. When his twenty-something granddaughter, Allegra (why she's named after allergy medication is never explained, but I would've given the story a whole 'nother star if Lane was named "Nasonex" instead), goes missing, he calls in her estranged cousin Lane to help find her. This wasn't mysterious or intriguing, as all the "twists" were laid out within the first few chapters. It does, however, earn points for being honest in its depictions of incestuous rape and the lifelong after-effects and trauma that follow. No part of their situation is glamorized. I found this dull, but some reviewers gave it high marks, so read at your own discretion.

My friend recommended I read The Ghost Bride, and generally when friends recommend things, I jump right in without even reading the synopsis. From the title, I went in expecting some sort of scary haunting, but instead I got a period-piece set amongst the Chinese population of 1800s Malaya, where protagonist Li Lan overdoses on sleeping powder to avoid marrying a ghost against her will. An actual ghost, who's been haunting her. She has feelings for the ghost's (still living) cousin, who may or may not have killed him. I... Woof, this book is jumbled and muddy. A lot of it is spent in the land of the dead, and the parts that focus on Chinese/Malayan history and culture and beliefs are really interesting, but the romance stuff is so vague and confusing... It's not really a love triangle; it's more like... Character A is Li Lan, our fragile (and horribly bland) heroine, Character B is Lim Tian Ching, who Li Lan has zero interest in marrying, but he BUYS HIS WAY THROUGH THE AFTERLIFE (yes, really) to force it, anyway, and there's Tian Bai, who seems like the perfect dreamboat for most of the book before things go pear-shaped... And then an unexpected FOURTH guy who shows up three quarters in and is suddenly a romantic prospect. And the way it ends... It was just weird, okay? It was weird, and it was dull, and it went on for way too long, and I stopped caring long before it ended. (All the descriptions of food made me super hungry, though.)

May 2021:

My opinion about The Pisces: No. Just no. I don't even want to look up well-written reviews to link in someone's more carefully articulated thoughts, because this disgusted and pissed me off so much. (No, it wasn't the uncomfortably graphic, existential mermaid sex involving toe sucking and menstrual blood smeared on a family member's expensive furniture and the comparison of testicles to "delicious oysters." Give me some credit; I've read weirder than that. I've written weirder than that.) It's about the protagonist being a despicable human being whom I loathed utterly. And that's coming from me! I'm the type who loves screwed-up characters! But this bitch... If anyone ever did to me what this woman did to her sister... I'd never forgive them! They'd be dead to me! Screw entitled whiney WASPs who think they can do THAT and people will just forgive them as part of their MENTAL HEALTH JOURNEY, and that they're so much BETTER than other women who are going through similar things!!! Look, I've been suicidal. I've struggled with those urges all my life. But I am still fully aware that other human beings have feelings, and that those feelings matter. AND I DO NOT NEGLECT AND DRUG MY PETS UNTIL THEY DIE! HOLY SHIT! This character is a decade older than me, and she still hasn't learned that you can't use and discard people and treat them like shit. Hate this book. Hate it. It was not profound, it was not ENLIGHTENING to womanhood and mental health and sex addiction and suicidal ideation and an HOMAGE to classic lit. Just no! -10000/10.

Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? was so cute and charming... I absolutely loved the sassy, friendly tone. I've watched a few of mortician Caitlin Doughty's videos on YouTube before, and I already liked her before reading this... Her playfully morbid, theatrical spirit carries through into her writing as she answers all the questions children have ever asked her about death. I would absolutely give this to a kid who has questions... As someone who's always been fascinated by death, putrefaction, etc, I knew maybe half of the things covered here, but some stuff (especially industry-specific things; the business stuff, the legal stuff), were new and interesting to learn. If I had one complaint, it would be that the book ended too abruptly. The book was presented in a question-answer format, with one question answered per chapter. When I reached the last question, there was still 20% of the book left (which was just all the sources listed out). That's fine, but I wasn't expecting the ending... There was no warning or wind-down. The final question didn't feel particularly climactic. The book just... Stopped. But other than that, this was fantastic, informative, and accessible, and I highly recommend it to anyone curious. I loved this, and the stylish illustrations. 10/10.

FINALLY, another entry for my "Best of 2021" list. (It's worryingly empty right now... Only a few entries, despite how much I've read this year.) Plain Bad Heroines was something I would probably love no matter what... 1. It's horror 2. Every major character (and there are many!) is a queer woman. Those are, like, my top two interests in life. It could've been absolutely terrible, and I still would have loved it. But it wasn't terrible -- it was fantastic. As a moody, fat lesbian author myself, I particularly identified with the character Merritt (she was so bitchy and insecure and thirsty for women. SHE WAS BASICALLY ME), but I loved them all. I adored the meta 'story within a story' nature of this -- telling the tale of early 1900s lesbians, a curse, an unwanted pregnancy, and other SPOOKY SUPERNATURAL HAPPENINGS (gotta love haunted boarding schools)... And also a modern-day story of movie stars and authors recreating the 1900s tale as a movie. A haunted movie. As in, the production is haunted/cursed, and the cast and crew are losing their marbles. And occasionally having lesbian makeout sessions; hell yes. THAT'S SOME GOOD SHIT. Perhaps my favorite element was the narrator of the story, who addresses us, the readers, directly. "Dear reader," "remember this, reader," "don't judge them too harshly, reader" -- I love when the narration is part of the story! LOVE IT. I loved every bit of this LONG-ass book; perfect for Halloween. (Every day is Halloween for me, but still.) 11/10, do recommend.

I read Animorphs 39, 40, and 40.5. (I doubt I'll finish the series by July 1, like I'd initially planned, but that's okay). This was a damn good batch! I'm relieved; the previous batch I read was bleh. We got an excellent Cassie book; easily one of the best in the series (not best Cassie books; best books, period). Why the hell isn't the buffalo book more popular?! It was fantastic and emotional and horrifying and really showed Cassie's character... AND we got a good Marco book; something we haven't had in a while. (I feel like some of these ghost writers don't understand him. WRITE MY SON BETTER, damn it.) And Megamorphs #4... Well. It's incredible. It wrenched my guts around. I couldn't shut up about it to my dad. This series is so fucking good; it just gets lost a little in the middle. Things are really starting to build to the conclusion, and I'm excited and dreading it all at the same time.

Favorite Characters - Update

So, last year I made a blog post about my top favorite characters, and largely that list holds up to scrutiny (though my feelings towards Jude Duarte dropped drastically after the terrible Queen of Nothing. Way to butcher everything I love about a character, Holly Black... #neverforgive).

But I'd like to add three new members to the favorites club; two of whom are ruthless killers who look like pre-teen boys, while actually being a whole lot more.

First is Number Five from The Umbrella Academy (specifically, Netflix's adaptation of TUA. I didn't care for the comics). I don't watch a lot of TV because I'm easily bored (reading is easy, because I'm doing something. But just sitting and watching a screen without getting distracted or bored, my mind wandering in a million different directions? That's hard). Also, I don't have a TV. Or internet. I do all my online stuff on my phone, which is hardly beneficial for streaming. But over a span of months, I managed to watch my way through TUA every time I visited my parents' house, and Five is boss AF, okay??? It feels like he was engineered specifically for me to love him. He's hyper-competent, brilliant, angry, arrogant, ruthless...

He gets all the best fight scenes in a show full of great fights (and the show features that one trope I love, where it juxtaposes gory fights against a light and cheery soundtrack... I'll never get tired of that). Most importantly, he will do and sacrifice anything for his loved ones while pretending all the while that he doesn't care about them at all. I eat that shit up, man. The fact that he looks like a little kid while actually being a foul-mouthed, alcohol-swigging old man delights me endlessly... The comedy and tragedy potential is endless. Much of my love for him is owed to actor Aidan Gallagher, who is only seventeen, but holds his own with a seasoned cast twice his age. He gives Five a nuanced depth; you really believe you're watching an elderly time-travelling assassin trapped in a child's body with his world-weary air. His condescension towards his "younger" siblings (while still being so protective of them) and the very uncomfortable sexual tension he has with Kate Walsh's evil character are subtle, but done well.

I've read several thinkpieces regarding how TUA is just X-Men with more focus on character and trauma (and daddy issues), which... Is probably why I love it, to be honest; I'm an X-Men fangirl and I often complain that Western comics are too plot-driven and should be more character-focused, soooooooo...

(Also, I can't stop watching this fan-made music video of him. Please help.)

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The next guy on my list is sort of a new-old favorite. I began re-reading Animorphs recently, and am just over halfway finished with the series (which is about 64 books long, depending on how many spinoffs you count as canon). Due to the iconic silliness of the covers, many people don't know just how deep and dark the series gets. It accurately depicts the trauma of war and the tragedy of child soldiers. I've heard people ask how such dark books could be considered a children's series, considering the violence, cannibalism, racism/bigotry, genocide, treachery, PTSD, major character death (child death!), war crimes committed by the heroes, body horror, and general horrors of war contained within... But it is a children's series (pre-teen characters with child problems and interests; information presented in a child-accessible way), and one I have high respect for. It doesn't wrap everything up in a pretty bow. Most of the endings are bittersweet, or outright tragic. The "enemy" are people, too; nuanced, complicated people; at no point does the series allow you to brush their deaths off as incidental.

Of our six POV characters, our child soldiers (Jake, Rachel, Marco, Cassie, Tobias, and Ax), I most relate to and care for Marco, and not just because he's confirmed by the authors as being bisexual (despite Scholastics' 1990s censorship. We can show children getting disemboweled, but heaven forbid two boys kiss, right?). I love that boy's strategic, ruthless mind. This is a boy willing to kill his own mother for the greater good (literally. That's not a metaphor. I told you this series is dark!). Each Animorph falls into a certain role in their group which may or may not reflect their true personality; they're just aware they must play this role or the others will fall apart, and that's something they can't afford. So, Marco is the chess master. And some of the choices he makes are absolutely harrowing. I particularly identify with the way he relies on graveyard humor, with an "if you can't laugh, you'll cry, and never stop crying" outlook. He deliberately disassociates from his emotions when asked to, say, murder a small child in the woods. I like how as the series goes on, he struggles more with feeling any empathy at all. The series never lets you forget how fucking traumatic all this is for kids, for their developing brains, and the way he looks to Jake to tell him how he should feel about things breaks my frigging heart.

I have a lot of feelings about every Animorph character, and Marco in particular. It frustrates me how he's so often overlooked by the fandom (I had to stop listening to one podcast that kept calling him an "incel," despite him being thirteen years old. "In another life, he'd be a school shooter." Shut the fuck up; clearly you don't know what trauma is, what it does to people. Mind, this is the same podcast that called Cassie the "magical black friend cliché" because... She sometimes does really cool stuff while under pressure? Whatever; I love Cassie, she's awesome and adds a lot of depth and complexity to the series. So tbh their opinions are obviously shit. No loss.)

The series ends with (spoilers) one Animorph dead, one missing, both romances permanently severed, and the cliffhanger of jumping right into another war. At the backlash that followed, Applegate responded with "So, you don't like the way our little fictional war came out? [...] Fine. Pretty soon you'll all be of voting age, and of draft age. So when someone proposes a war, remember that even the most necessary wars, even the rare wars where the lines of good and evil are clear and clean, end with a lot of people dead, a lot of people crippled, and a lot of orphans, widows and grieving parents." (You should read the entire letter she wrote to address the topic; it's phenomenal.)

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The last fave I wanna add is a teensy bit superficial, I admit, but c'mon. C'mon. It's Dracula. Specifically the Dracula voiced by Graham McTavish in Netflix's "Castlevania" series. (I never played the games. I don't really play games at all.) Like TUA, I had to watch CV in bits and pieces at my parents' house, so it took me a while. Can I just say the series has the best villains? Dracula for seasons one and two, and the Council of Sisters in season three (all four of whom I want to do beastly things to me)? Like, sure, I know they're evil, but who cares? They're hot and dangerous and I'm into that shit.

And honestly, I can't help but side with Dracula! He gave the townspeople who murdered his wife fair warning: "you've got one year to leave town before I come back and butcher all of you." It's not his fault they didn't listen! Feed 'em to the demon dogs, Drac.

Yes, he's a lil crazy. But I loved his relationship with the human Lisa and I wanted good things for them. And his last episode made me cry. A lot. Like, an embarrassing amount.

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I'm gonna add Cassie Thomas from the 2020 film "Promising Young Woman" as an honorable mention, because I saw that movie for the first time last week and I'm already a teensy bit obsessed (I can't stop watching behind-the-scenes shit and interviews and 'the making of's). But I still need more time to process it and watch it a couple... Dozen more times to really iron my feelings out. I love the movie, I love the aesthetic, the soundtrack, the wardrobe (give me EVERY OUTFIT CASSIE WEARS. And her rainbow manicure), I love Cassie's modus operandi, I love how it explores the vast treachery of the rape culture we all live in... Hell, I even love the ending, despite all the backlash. Next time I update this list, she'll probably be on it in much greater detail.

Ranking the Dublin Murder Squad

Tana French's Dublin Murder Squad, a loosely connected series of six (hopefully more, eventually!) highly detailed, meticulously researched, character-driven police procedurals with the occasional supernatural slant, is fucking amazing. I'm serious; this author owns my ass. There's something here for everyone to appreciate; gorgeous prose, complex, morally gray protagonists, exciting discoveries, deliciously woven mysteries where all the pieces fall perfectly into place (sometimes at the worst possible times)... She has the brass balls to give most of these books a bittersweet or outright tragic ending. There is nothing I don't love about this series! She even owns up to the fact that most cops are corrupt, disgusting, ineffective, and more than willing to overlook their squad's crimes! They're five-stars all around from me. But which one do I love best?

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My number one favorite (but number four in the series) is Broken Harbor (or "Harbour," if you're European). It stars the seasoned, goodie two-shoes detective, Mick "Scorcher" Kennedy, whom Frank Mackey royally fucked over in #3 (you should probably read #3 before #4 for context, but you don't have to). To salvage his good name, Mick takes what looks like a straightforward case: two children smothered in their beds, Mom and Dad stabbed to pieces in the kitchen.

Unfortunately for Mick, this is the case to get to him, and not just because he's having family problems of his own. The town the murders took place in was also the same town he suffered a severe childhood trauma in, compromising his ability to see things objectively. He realizes how extremely lonely he is as a person as he studies the madness that overtook the family before their deaths. (Some readers are annoyed with this book because some things remain unexplained, which aggravates me. Stop taking every line literally! Unreliable narrator! It's supernatural, baby!!! Read between the lines!) In the end, Mick is forced to look inwards and question his beliefs on justice and his role in the legal system (aka: is the legal thing necessarily the right thing?) as he takes paths he never before would have dared.

The writing here is gorgeous. There's one particular dreamy chapter regarding a sleep-deprived Mick contemplating the ocean that left a hollow ache in my heart. What a fantastic, moving character study. I love it beyond words.

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The Trespasser is volume six in the series; I highly recommend you read #5 before tackling this one, for an introduction to the characters and their relationships. Our star here is the brash and rude Antoinette Conway, a woman of color whom some have dubbed "a hateful bitch." (Naturally, I love her.) The murder squad has become more boys' club cliquey than ever, with the other detectives shunning her because she won't tolerate their sexist, racist bullshit. Only her partner, detective Stephen Moran, remains steadfast by her side.

Ooh, baby; Tana really snapped in this one. You can practically drink the spicy 'fuck the police' oozing between every line. Long overdue, imho. #6 takes longer to get going than the others, but it's worth the slow burn. At first it feels like Antoinette has nothing in common with the murder victim, a bland, blonde dreamer who was just making dinner for her boyfriend before the life was punched out of her. It seems straightforward enough; a romance, a stalker, love gone wrong. As things develop and we learn more about the victim, however, we see why this is the case to rock Conway's career.

But are Antoinette's misgivings against her squad valid, or unjustified paranoia? What about Stephen? Is there something rotten going on amongst the cops? And what all does it have to do with the death of this one, specific girl? Read this at your peril: it made my heart race several times. Just fantastic; left me screaming at my audiobook while driving to work.

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#2, The Likeness ties with #3, Faithful Place, for my third favorite. They're equal in quality, but Likeness fits my personal preferences more (female narrator! Dark academia! More vague hints at a supernatural plotline!). Perhaps you should read #1 before reading #2, but in my opinion, it doesn't really matter. Our detective here is Cassie Maddox, who isn't technically a murder detective anymore, but a detective for domestic violence. Her former undercover boss, Frank Mackey, drags her undercover one last time as the murder victim in question (Alexis) happens to be the spitting image of her, and any one of the girl's university housemates may have been the killer. (This is where some readers throw up a fuss. "Surely the people who live with her could tell the difference between their Alexis and this imposter!" I beg of you, please research Celtic changelings and the concept of doppelgängers. This series is traditionally Irish to its core, and that does include subtly superstitious elements.)

Cassie fucks up by falling too deeply into her role as Alexis, becoming invested in the girl's life and relationships. As with all DMS books, this case is particularly personal for her. She's struggled all her life with identity, and so has Alexis; a serial runaway who finally met her match at the end of someone's knife. The reader, too, is thrown into this world away from worlds, where all of Alexis's friends were attempting to create a utopia to escape their own painful pasts, to live as a family together. You almost don't want Cassie to solve Alexis's murder, as solving it will burst her bubble and force her back to reality.

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Volume three, Faithful Place, ties with #2 as my third favorite. The second I finished reading, I called my dad and demanded he read it, too, as it's so beyond his cup of tea it's not even funny. (I was right; he loved it.) Undercover boss Frank Mackey, the handsome, roguish, enigmatic charmer we've only caught glimpses of before, has a difficult life; a divorced father trying to give his little daughter Holly Mackey the happy childhood he'd never had. When he gets a call from his estranged sister demanding he return home, he realizes that his first love didn't run out on him, after all, but rather had been murdered and stuffed inside a wall for the past twenty years.

Frank is forced back into his childhood of poverty and violent parental abuse for the ugliest, most personal case of his career. He's an undercover detective, so this murder case doesn't fall within his jurisdiction, but he defies detective Mick Kennedy's commands at every turn and keeps sneaking right back in. He breaks every rule in the book, and then some, proving that Tana French isn't above making her "heroes" do heinous things while telling their story. (Among other things, Frank blackmails and coerces a young squad newbie, Stephen Moran, into doing some dirty work for him at risk of otherwise losing his career. He also threatens uninvolved civilians with violence.) (Your mileage may vary, but I'm not very forgiving of cops who don't follow rules. We see too many of those in the news every day.) The writing here was incredible as always, with an ending so intense it left me breathless. Absolutely superb; I can see why this is a fan favorite for so many.

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Volume #5, The Secret Place, is the only one of the series to have two narrators and timelines, flashing between Frank Mackey's (now teenage) daughter, Holly Mackey, and her friends at a posh boarding school, and detective Stephen Moran, whom Frank simultaneously screwed over and helped in #3. (You should definitely read #3 before reading #5, by the way.) Holly, remembering how helpful and kind Stephen was when she was a child, comes to him with new evidence in a year-old case from the campus of her all-girl's boarding school. One year ago, the freshly murdered corpse of Chris Harper (a popular teen player with plenty of girlfriends), is found on the girl's campus, flowers in his hands and condoms in his pockets.

Stephen, ballsy and ambitious as all hell (seriously my favorite trait of his; he looks like an adorable puppy, but that boy knows what he wants and how to get it), uses this evidence on his quest to join the murder squad, hooking up with the highly unpopular leader of the case, Antoinette Conway. If they don't solve this cold case within twenty-four hours, they can both kiss their careers and dreams goodbye. Much to both their surprise, they work well together: Antoinette is bold and brash and takes no shit, while Stephen is excellent at reading people, morphing himself like a chameleon to fit whatever they want him to be. Their half of the book takes place in less than a day as they work out just what happened to Chris.

Holly's chapters take place a year prior, leading up to Chris's murder. Tana French proves she can write teenage girls just as well as she can hardened detectives... And, in fact, how they're much more brutal. She captures the intense politics of teen friendships and rivalries perfectly. These dark academia chapters are off-putting to some readers, as they're the most overtly supernatural of the series (it goes from "maybe magic" to "definitely magic" at this point), but I liked it; all of it.

Though this is the longest book of the series, surpassing the 500 page mark, there's so much going on that you don't get quite the depth of character (detective character, anyway; you get plenty of teen girl depth, but I wanted more Stephen!) that you're used to, which is why it ranks so low on my list... But I loved it for sure. It earned its five stars from me.

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Don't hate me, Rob lovers, but... Rob Ryan annoyed the shit out of me; I'm sorry. It’s not that he’s badly written or unrealistic... He is as well crafted as all our other detectives. I just feel like, if I met him in real life, I’d be tempted to slap him. Repeatedly. In the Woods, though my least favorite of the DMS series, is the only one I've read twice (so far). I have quite a lot of notes taken on the book (link - spoilers ahoy!) to substantiate my theory on what exactly went on in Rob's past.

So: Rob Ryan (or "Adam," as he was called as a child), was involved in a mysterious, horrific crime as a child that he lost all memory of. Now an adult on the murder squad, he and his beloved partner Cassie Maddox are tasked with a case in his hometown. As Rob explains, he most hates murders involving children, and Cassie most hates ones that involve rape. Unfortunately for them, this case revolves around both; a young ballerina killed, raped (yes, in that order), and placed on a "sacrificial alter" in an archeological dig. The more Rob and Cassie search around his childhood home, the more old faces and stories Rob meets and hears, the more he's dragged down the path he'd hoped to leave behind: what happened to him when he was little?!

This is a great start to the series, showcasing Tana's oeuvre of Irish culture/history/economics and detailed character studies with a shocking ending that will either enrage readers or endear them to the absolute guts this author has. You can probably guess which category I fall under.

March 2021

March 2021

I didn't read much at all in March, because I've got a SECRET PROJECT going on that I'll hopefully show off later.

Vampires??? Vampires!!! I've been meaning to read Let the Right One In since Maven of the Eventide's excellent review... Three years ago. (Listen, 2021 is the year of clearing old stuff from my TBR pile.) First up: Don't touch if you can't handle pedophilia, attempted rape, murder, animal cruelty/death, body horror, gore, or any of that jazz. There is a lot of that. This was the grossest book I've read in a while, and that's saying something; I said "oh God, ew," more times than I can count. That said, this is also excellent and heartwarming. It's that kinda book, I guess. I ended up giving it four stars (it lost one for being a bit too long, with some chapters and plot points that could have been wrapped up more succinctly). If the sentences "coming of age without ever aging" or "I mean, sure; TECHNICALLY they're violent serial killers, but look how adorable they are!" appeal to you, then I highly recommend this.

One addendum: The handling of one character's non-consensual genital mutilation leading to gender confusion could have been handled better. This might have been a translation error (I THINK they did the pronoun thing differently in the original Swedish text), but it might feel insensitive to some trans readers. As a queer person, I found the maybe-romance between Oskar and Eli to be very sweet, but that's just one cis lesbian's opinion. Your mileage may vary.

I read Bad Feminist, because Samantha Irby mentioned it several times in her memoirs. BF has a more serious tone than anything Irby's written, but it does have levity, sweetness. Roxane Gay is a fascinating person; the daughter of Hattian immigrants, the survivor of COCSA (child on child sexual assault) and gang rape, a Scrabble enthusiast, a professor who brings reference and research into her debates. There were moments that felt dated, which is inevitable for modern books with pop-culture references. All the references to Bill Cosby (and Lena Dunham), in particular, earned a wince, as this was published in 2014 (immediately before their sexual assault allegations came to light). Obviously, nobody outside of their bubbles could have predicted it (I LOVED The Cosby Show as a kid), but still. Unfortunate timing.

I disagreed with Gay's stance on trigger warnings... As a fanfiction author, I find trigger warnings absolutely essential in my work. I would never want to trigger someone with a surprise depiction of rape, violence, incest, or anything else... People have the right to know what they're getting into before they consent to reading. I've been triggered by fictional depictions of things, and it sucks! I love this new tendency to include trigger warnings at the start of books.

That aside, I loved what she had to say about there being no one definition of "feminist," and the unfortunately white, cis, heterosexual-centric gaze of feminism that we (feminists, society) need to get better at recognizing and challenging. And all her points on bodily autonomy and abortion. She's right! I recommend newbies to the feminist movement, especially those that have misgivings about some feminist beliefs or leaders, check this out.

Well, I've never read a Daphne du Maurier book before, and I'm not really a Hitchcock fan, but Dominic Noble's review of Rebecca made me wish to give it a shot. I described it to a friend as "50 Shades without the smut, but at least the author KNOWS it's horrifying." Our unnamed protagonist, a meek, 20-something Englishwoman with no family, up and marries a man she barely knows; a wealthy widower "old enough to be her father." He sweeps her off to his manor to be the new Mrs. de Winter, much to the staff's dismay. Shock of all shocks, he's a creepy asshole, and his former wife (Rebecca)'s death wasn't the accident it's believed to be! The writing here was beautiful, and I really got into Unnamed Protagonist (UnPro?)'s head, feeling her anxiety and loneliness and inadequacy; how she's constantly overshadowed by Rebecca's legacy. She really comes across as a vulnerable young person in a situation she doesn't understand; the little sister you want to protect. If you like unsettling old books and slow, creeping atmosphere (think Shirley Jackson), I'd recommend it. If you can't stand books where pretty much every single character is a bad person, steer clear. (This book wants you to root for someone who literally murdered his spouse, and isn't subtle about it.) Warning: there is some 1930s bigotry, like yellowface and referring to a man with Down syndrome by ablest slurs.

From the author of Convenience Store Woman (which I still need to read!) comes Earthlings, a very different sort of tale. (Trigger warnings for graphic child sexual assault, incest, and cannibalism.) God, this was... Weird... A dark fairy tale(?) of societal pressures and capitalist expectations; the dread of being just a cog in the machine; an employee; a baby-maker. I've never seen trauma-based disassociation portrayed so well, or so interestingly. I really liked this book, and gave it five stars, but I feel like I need to think about it for a few months and maybe read it again before I have the first idea of what to say about it. If you liked it, I recommend you check out Han Kang's "The Vegetarian" or Elana K. Arnold's "Damsel" for similar tones and theme.

So, Saving Noah is another tale of child sexual assault. I swear this isn't intentional; I read entirely at the whims of my library's hold system. I wrote a long, passionate review for the book [link!] that goes into trigger warnings and themes, and I covered some things with spoiler warnings. (Also it's some good writing. I'm proud of it.) What do you do if your teenage son tells you he molested two six-year-old girls? If you think you can stomach a story about a teenage pedophile, I recommend you give this a shot: I felt it was written with tact and sympathy; it was never gratuitous. The focus was entirely on that of a mother struggling with her son's crimes, legal troubles, rehab, and suicide attempts while still loving him terribly. This was a painful read that made me tear up several times; the author is quite talented and clearly does her legal, medical, and psychiatric research. It gave me Many thoughts and Many emotions.

Pros of Sawkill Girls: Three queer female narrators (one black; one fat). The writing was evocative; spooky; carefully crafted. Feminist overtones! Cons: A little too on-the-nose with its Men Bad; Women Good narrative (a lot of the things said were accurate, but it was portrayed pretty abrasively. I can see how it would scare people away from the concept of feminism). Also, while the gruesome parts were gruesome, and the monsters and body horror were creative, YA just... Doesn't do it for me anymore, I don't think. If you like YA and the plot sounds interesting to you, then I'd recommend it, but it wasn't for me. I often found myself growing bored. I don't have much to say about this; it didn't leave an impact, and I felt relieved when it ended.

February 2021

February 2021:

So I was a trainwreck all month and only read 15 books (most of them audiobooks or under 200 pages); what else is new. (Do not ask me about debt, a lack of medication, or house maintenance drama. If I have to acknowledge any of my stupid life, particularly the fact that my toilet is currently in my living room, I'll scream.)

I read Meaty AFTER I read "We are Never Meeting in Real Life," but it gets put first on this list because I'm a sucker for rainbow order. Anyway, of the 3 collections of Irby essays I've been listening to on an audiobook loop all month, I think "Meaty" is my favorite. It's the most raw (the essay "My Mother, My Daughter" makes me cry like a little bitch every time), and it's charming how you can tell it's Irby's first book that she's just slapping together as best she can. I particularly appreciated all the recipes for people with bowel troubles. It became a bit repetitive at times, but like all her essays, Irby's writing genuinely feels like one of those hours-long phonecalls with your best friend where she overshares on all the stupid men she's been dating, the best sex toys she's bought recently, and how much of a pain it is to pluck facial hair. Comforting and familiar.

I don't talk about it much, but I'm a sex worker (just phone sex; nothing illegal). I also have clinically diagnosed PTSD. I don't know what I expected Camgirl to be, but it's less about the sex work itself and more an... Explanation? A confession? Memoirs? I'm not sure what to call it, but Isa Mazzei talks about how a tumultuous childhood led to an obsession with controlling people through sex, despite hating physical intimacy. How every escalation was an effort to "feed the monster," and how she eventually pulled herself from that toxic mindset. It was really interesting; informative without being obscene. I confess a part of me wants to shush her, like, "don't say that; you'll make the public think all sex workers are damaged and attention-seeking and need to be rescued," but that's not right; she has the right to tell her story as much as any of us. I tentatively recommend this to anyone who is curious, with the strong reminder that sex work is real work, mental illness does not make a person dangerous, and we need to eradicate the stigma surrounding both topics.

Dear Sweet Pea served to remind me of how much I love Julie Murphy, and how much I wish I'd had her when I was 13-16— being a fat, gay kid in a conservative environment is rough, and I could've used the support. Anyway, unlike YA "Dumplin" and "Puddin" (and "Pumpkin," which is coming out later this year), Dear Sweet Pea is a middle-grade novel, but it still holds with Murphy's standbys of body/fat positivity, Texan sass, plenty o' queer characters, and a deliberate focus on diverse race representation. Murphy's books feel like they take place in a slightly gentler reality, where people are Nice and Talk Their Feelings Out, and damaged relationships can be repaired, and everyone gets a kitten and a cupcake and has a fat, gay good time. And you know what? Props to her; sometimes I want to spend time in a world like that. Recommending this to the chunky twelve-year-old in your life.

We Are Never Meeting in Real Life is Samantha Irby's second collection of personal essays, just as sassy and hilarious as ever. She's mastered the art of making you laugh one second and ache the next. She'll go from telling a mortifying story of having diarrhea on the side of a snowy road (Crohn's disease is a bitch) to talking about her abusive father's sudden death, to de-stigmatizing mental healthcare in the Black community, and it all flows in a way that makes perfect sense. Her essay re: the first time she had sex with a woman had me pissing myself laughing; she's that bawdy, unrestrained friend you love and admire, and she genuinely gives my suicidal ass hope for the future; maybe it is worth it to live til 40.

Animorphs #35-#38 (and one spinoff) were my allotted 5 Animorphs books for the month. And they were Not Good. (Well, "Visser" was good. It was incredible, actually. And #38 was good, also.) Maybe Scholastic needed to screen their ghost-writers better, because there was poor characterization and rambling nothings everywhere; I've never given so many one-star reviews for something I allegedly love. I'm desperate for the series to get back on track, please and thank you.

Okay, I'm a little obsessed with Samantha Irby now. Did I dig through all 10 (yes, 10) partner libraries attached to the library card from the city I lived in several years ago, in order to find the one digital library that had this audiobook immediately available? Maybe. Look, I find her voice soothing, okay?! I don't have a problem; I can stop anytime. Wow, No Thank You proves that I just need to download a few lesbian dating apps and try to find a Samantha of my own to marry. (I'm serious. Please let me marry someone who will tolerate my level of grumpy and gross, and doesn't mind that I don't like to leave my house or be touched.) I'm adding these 3 audiobooks to my 'comfort listening' repertoire; I can see myself playing them over and over again in my background.

Faithful Place is the third book in the 'Dublin Murder Squad' series, and while I didn't enjoy it as much as I did the second, that's more a matter of preference than it is of quality. All the books in this series are very specifically crafted for their narrator (in this case, Frank from undercover), while I found Cassie to be more relatable and likable. I've always said I wouldn't care if a book was about grocery shopping and tax filing, so long as I loved the characters involved. All that said, this was (of course) a well-crafted mystery, but like the rest of the series, it was more focused on telling the detective's story than solving the murder. Frank (heading undercover as he does), is a very reserved and cagey guy; he doesn't give much of himself away. So of course this case plunges deep into his familial and romantic ties, much to his discomfort. Things get gnarled and tangled as the roots of his family tree, and while I won't say the mystery was difficult to solve, it was definitely the journey, not the destination. Five stars.

And yeah, I guess I'm in deep with the Dublin Murder Squad now, because I also read #4, Broken Harbor. (Apologies to my sister, who is also reading the series and has to put up with my 'WHAT PART ARE YOU AT NOW???' texts.) #4 is from the POV of Mick "Scorcher" Kennedy (Frank's foil; pompous and a stickler for the rules, where Frank is rough around the edges). I feel like people who complain about the vague aspects of the series, like the disappearance of Rob's friends, how easily Cassie took Lexie's place, Dina's mental state, or the animal in Pat Spain's walls, isn't grasping that this series rests gently on Celtic lore— particularly that of fairies. It's meant to be inexplicable and a hint supernatural, juxtaposed against the very grounded police procedural. Just like Ireland itself, this series is steeped in history (which, yes, includes lore and mythology) and slammed by reality, such as the financial crash that fills so many of these books. Think about it; the squad works in a castle. And yes, there are perfectly sound reasons for that choice, but it wasn't an accident. It's history and whimsy and solid, hard stone. Anyway, this book was fucking phenomenal and is being slam-dunked into my "best of 2021" list. I especially appreciated the clever nod to Moby Dick.

How to Talk to Nice English Girls was fun and surprisingly steamy. I think I'm a sucker for historical Sapphic romances; something about the ankle-glimpsing taboo of it all just gets me, man. Proper Lady Marian is tasked with keeping wild, American Katherine under wraps for the duration of her sister's wedding— that girl has a reputation. Predictably, it's Katherine who has the greater influence, dragging Marian to scandalous barn parties with JAZZ MUSIC and women dancing in TROUSERS. Gay makeouts ensue. It's cheesy but heartfelt; I rooted for these baby gays. Cute, cute.

Well, it's Black history month, and the month of love; why not read a Black romance? Once Ghosted, Twice Shy was quite short, and detailed the second-chance romance between African royal advisor Likotsi and New York jeweler Fabiola. Fab broke things off when it was time for Likotsi to return to her home country, and wants to try again now that she's back in the states. Likotsi is, naturally, reserved, wishing to protect her heart from the woman who'd so callously broken it. Since this is a romance novella, it should be no surprise the direction things take. I didn't find it particularly steamy (although it actually did use the word "clit," thank GOD; I'm so sick of romances calling it a "nub" or a "bud" or whatever), but the characters were very likable.

Why yes, I did read three Dublin Murders this month, despite the fact that they're quite long and dense. #5, The Secret Place, takes a turn from the rest of the series. It's not a standalone; one must first read #3 to understand the characters and their relationship intricacies. Not only that, but there are two narrators; one is cold case detective Stephen Moran, who worked with Frank in #3. The other is Holly (Frank's daughter, now a teenager) and her group of boarding school friends. Stephen's chapters take place in the first-person as he works with murder detective Antoinette Conway, trying to solve a cold case in under 24 hours to salvage both their careers. Holly's chapters are third-person omniscient, focusing on the events of a year ago involving the murder itself. This book was the most explicitly supernatural of the series, where the others only hinted at such things. In comparison, Stephen and Antoinette are relatively simple and straightforward, without any of the gut-wrenching personal involvement the previous detectives had (a good thing; this story was long and complicated enough without a tragic backstory). While I prefer the style the rest of the series set up, I understand an author's need to change things up, and of course it was beautifully written and emotional as hell. (I particularly appreciated the unicorn=virginity symbolism. And the master character-writing, when goals change and relationships form.)

Reading Goals for March: Let the Right One In, Rebecca, Animorphs #39-42 , Bad Feminist, The Seafarer's Kiss, and a couple comics off my shelf.

January 2021

January:

(Quoth my therapist: "You're averaging over a novel every other day. Are you retreating back into a fictional headspace?"
Quoth me: "Can you really blame me? The world is on-fucking-fire. Where else can I go?")

I watched the Christopher Nolan film for The Prestige back in high school, because it was my creative writing teacher (whom I had a massive crush on)'s fave. And now having finally read the book, I can repeat the line book-lovers everywhere say at least once a month: THE BOOK WAS BETTER. It really was, though. The book is told in 5 parts with four major narrators, and though it's not told in a linear fashion, the reason for this was necessary. The film showed things out of order because... Christopher Nolan likes being confusing, I guess. And he stripped away all the humanity of the two dueling protagonists to make cartoonishly evil villains. In the book, you have empathy for their situation... Which really only makes it all the more horrible! The scares are far subtler with a nod towards gothic horror; Mary Shelley-style. I really think the book was excellent; five-star worthy. Wish more people would read it.

I really expected to enjoy Clown in a Cornfield more than I did. It only got 2 stars from me; it would have been one star, but the last 7% of the book was enjoyable, and the writing was fairly good throughout (it managed to stay grounded in reality re: injuries, PTSD, etc, which I appreciate). Anyway... With a title like that, I was expecting a campy, bombastic little clown-horror novel; something like 2012's "Stitches." It was not that. It was more like a gritty, reverse "Children of the Corn" with none of the charm and some bullshit "moral" about kids these days. The characters were flat and boring, and the plot was predictable. I could see every "twist" a mile away, and I didn't care one whit whether the characters lived or died. (Note: There's one cute lil twist near the end that gave me a smile re: sudden romance, but that hardly makes up for a mediocre, dull book. A book titled "Clown in a Cornfield" should not be boring, and yet!) Disappointing.

I'm surprised I never read Flowers in the Attic as a teen— I went through a phase where I was OBSESSED with incest and/or abuse narratives (I'm still morbidly curious today); you'd think this would be at the top of my list. Anyway, if you're reading this for that HAWT INCEST ACTION, don't bother. It's... Very much not hot; it's a one-page rape scene. Just another horror in a novel full of them. And don't bother if you can't handle melodrama or purple prose; this is very much a 70s fest of limpid pools and kaleidoscopic rainbows in every eyeball (perhaps these children need an optometrist as well as a psychiatrist). So there were parts that made me snort and roll my hazel orbs... But there were also parts that hit pretty dang close to home. As a domestic abuse survivor, I recognized parts of my own childhood in the manipulation, gaslighting, and violence inflicted upon the Dollanganger children. Their rage, defiance, fear, and self-exploration came from a very real place, however amped-up and dramatized it may have been. I'm intrigued to see what comes next.

At only 200 pages, The Bad Seed was a quick read; helped by the fact that I knew this story (having seen the 1956 movie). But, oh, I loved this book; even more than the movie. It wasn't so much that the premise was shocking (I see reviews complaining that it's too obvious Rhoda is the killer); I don't believe it was meant to be a twist. It's about a mother realizing her daughter doesn't experience empathy or love at all, and in fact has killed several people for material gain. I know people with NPD and ASPD, and know that a lack of empathy DOES NOT make anyone evil, and is not their fault. That said, this portrayal was blazingly accurate to such symptoms in children. I took issue with some details (obviously the concept of a 'bad seed' is ridiculous, and the granddaughter of a serial killer is no more likely to become a serial killer herself than the granddaughter of a baker is), but it makes sense that poor Christine would think it was her fault for passing such "genes," anyway. The horror is not in the shock, but the lingering dread; the balance of loving someone who cannot love you back, and debating whether your duty as a mother or your duty to society comes first; especially in the position of a 50s housewife whom very few people take seriously (which gave me some Rosemary's Baby flashbacks, sigh. Ah; the horrors of misogyny). Very well done.

My first Nonfiction of the year! (I meant it when I said I'd try to read more NF. At least one a month.) As you've probably gleaned, I'm white. I'm so white I'm almost blue in bright lights. I am pasty as hell. I'm also very much a lesbian. So... No; I don't know what it's like to be a gay Black man. But it's books like this that open my brain up a little and give me an insight to worlds that aren't mine. All Boys Aren't Blue is a collection of essays by activist George M. Johnson about his personal experiences in the intersection of Blackness and queerness, and finding joy in his identities. He's so very accessible, breaking heavy concepts into bite-sized pieces for a young audience while still getting across their seriousness. It's easy for me to say, "I'm already gay; I'm woke; I already know all this stuff." But that's not true; for a full understanding of the past while working towards a more desirable future, it's important to read and absorb a whole variety of different queer voices (especially QPOC). I would highly recommend this particular book to newbies in the activism front, as George has a very warm voice that invites you into his life and family.

Horrid just cements my massive girl-crush on author Katrina Leno. (Can I use 'girl crush' platonically when I'm a lesbian?) I loved her 'Summer of Salt,' and I LOVE loved this book. Oh her modern, quippy WRITING; her COMPLICATED FEMALE RELATIONSHIPS... Love, love, love. I'm pretty tired of haunted house/ghost books, for the most part; they're all kinda same-y. So too has "the REAL ghosts/horror is MENTAL ILLNESS" trope that's been around forever and is so tiresome. (Hello; I'm clinically mentally ill (ooh, scary!) and I'm not a fuckin' ghost, thanks.) But Leno's writing and characterization enhanced and elevated these clichés to something highly enjoyable. I loved these characters; I loved this story! I loved this depiction of anger management issues, and family secrets, and mother/daughter relationships... And ooh, boy, that ending. I was up til 2am reading this one, and I honestly didn't know which way the chips would fall until the very last line. Excellent. (Recommended to Shirley Jackson fans; especially to fans of 'We Have Always Lived in the Castle.') (Bonus: No romance in sight; only strong, platonic and/or familial relationships. Very refreshing.)

Alright, Novik, what do you want? I can't give you my heart; that belongs to someone else. Do you want my liver? My kidneys??? What does it take to write like you?! How do you keep knocking me sideways with everything you create?! A Deadly Education was insanely creative and action-packed. Set in a magical school with no teachers (and no escape but death or graduation), it holds true to its grim premise, and so the stakes feel very real: these children can, and do, die horribly and often. How they've managed to cope with this constant trauma feels grounded in reality, for such a fantastical premise. They form harsh 'survival of the fittest' sects, they make shrewd bargains and trades, where everything from a safe shower to an extra sandwich at breakfast comes at a steep price. There are some deliberate 'Lord of the Flies' references I appreciated (especially the subversion: at the end of the day, these are all children who just want to live, and will help each other as much as they can, however limited that is). All that said, It was still tremendously funny at times— I live for dark humor. One thing I deeply appreciate in novels such as these: absolutely nothing comes easy. Everything; friendships, alliances, homework projects; have to be fought for tooth and nail, and things go horribly wrong 99.9% of the time. The main character isn't immune to hardship just because she's the main character. The punches never slow down once; small problems compound into enormous ones; and the stakes climb to astronomical heights. Every victory feels earned through blood, sweat, and tears. I loved every page of this.

M.R. Carey already blew my socks off with 'The Girl with All the Gifts,' so I was fully prepared to love Someone Like Me... And I was not disappointed! When male authors write female characters, things always tend to feel a little off. (Even Stephen King, whom I love dearly. Sorry, Stevey; you're just really obsessed with nipples.) But Carey excels at it, and I love him for that. What's more, he manages to write modern kids and teens without once making them into obnoxious stereotypes. He seems to have really tapped into the "nerdy teen girl" and "weird little girl" zeitgeist. The premise of being literally possessed by alternate reality versions of yourself— versions that may or may not have your best interests at heart— was very out-there, but it was handled well (for all that an anthropomorphic cartoon fox was a main character with her own POV chapters. Yes, really). I can't say I'm completely satisfied with how this all wrapped up, but it held my attention from beginning to end, the villains were viscously nasty, and I became very attached to the characters.

In keeping with my bleak mood of the month, Living Dead Girl may be one of the most depressing things I've ever read. At only 170 pages, it's a very quick read (I finished it in a couple hours), but the unusual and condensed style packed a wallop. Basically: a girl (now 15), having been kidnapped and physically/sexually abused for the last 5 years, is asked to find and lure in her replacement, a little girl from the local park. She's so "dead inside" that she sees this as an opportunity for a quick death, her only hope for freedom. Yeah... Don't read this if you're easily triggered by anything; it pulls no punches. (Thankfully, it never hit MY major trigger: the girl never once loves, cares about, or believes the words of her abuser. Nor does it ever romanticize the situation. So I got through it fine.) Five stars.

What's that, Lyn? Two nonfiction books in a single month? Well, call me ambitious. In the Dream House initially turned me off by its style; poetic, metaphorical little blurbs told out of order, like a pretentious theater student wailing discordantly and calling it music. ("This isn't a story!") I don't have much patience for the abstract. But this grew on me, weirdness and all. I even came to appreciate it; like the narrator, I'm a queer survivor of domestic abuse, and I too have struggled to describe what happened to me. (How can women be lovers? How can women abuse other women? How is the het public supposed to understand! We're making all queer women look bad, damn it!) By braiding cold facts (queer media, queer history, court cases, etc) with the inherently emotional intimacy of poetry/prose, the author manages to force an audience to look through our eyes. See this? It's real. Facts to prove it, emotions to back it up. Please listen to us! I highly recommend everybody, of all genders and sexualities, reads this.

I wanted to rate The Sun Down Motel higher than just three stars, because I really did enjoy it, but it was just too unbalanced. The half set in the 1980s, where concierge Vivian tries to Nancy Drew her way through a string of murdered girls, is far more interesting than the half told in 2017, where Carly tries to solve her aunt Vivian's disappearance. I always groaned when it was time for a "Carly" chapter. I understand that's just the risk an author takes when having multiple narrators, but here it was particularly egregious, because Carly was literally, deliberately, mimicking her aunt's life, taking the same job at the same motel in order to trace her steps. It was a repeat of all the Vivian chapters; a weaker echo with a duller narrator that kept telling us information we already knew ("the ghost is named Betty!" Vivian solves, and then a few chapters later, Carly solves the same thing). HOWEVER, I really enjoyed the commentary it made throughout about societal violence against women (it was a running theme), and some of the twists were seriously fun and gnarly. I highly recommend this to fans of the genre— if you think you're going to like this, you probably will.

Woof. You know a book's gonna be a downer when the forward contains contact info for suicide and sexual assault prevention hotlines. The Fall of Innocence tells the story of Emilia DeJesus, age sixteen, still recovering from the near-death experience of childhood abduction, violent assault, and rape. Though it's been eight years since her attack, it comes to light that the man imprisoned for the crime is innocent, and the actual man responsible will die in hospice, unpunished. As the (Hispanic) author explains in her afterward, far too many women of color, like Emilia, suffer violence in silence and never receive the justice they're deserved. I think this is an important and hard-hitting novel, but don't go into it expecting a happy ending. Though this is far less graphic and far more about recovery and family than "Living Dead Girl" was, it rattled me way more. I might need to read some happy things now to shake the gloom off.

The Cousins almost became my first DNF of the year. I only powered through it on spite and pettiness; if I didn't finish, I wouldn't be able to give it a one-star review (since I don't allow myself to rate books I don't finish). I can't decide what's worse; the characters or the writing. No, actually, I can decide: The characters were the worst! I hated all of them! (But then, I hated them because they were badly written, so maybe the writing is still the problem, after all?) I hoped the cover would prove to be foreshadowing and someone would start killing off these little bastards, but unfortunately it's not that kind of book. It's just a family of rich snobs who were disinherited for reasons that I think are supposed to be a twist, but were painfully obvious (and also I hate them so I don't CARE). Cut to several decades later and Rich Grandma invites Rich Teen Grandkids to her island. Not to kill them, sadly, but for reasons of intrigue and way too many descriptions of fancy clothes and buildings and parties and shopping trips and screwing each other over, Gossip Girl-style (ugh), and fake incest. The pacing in this book was atrocious; whole days or even weeks could be skipped at a time, and sometimes the chapters would go back to the 80s for a few pages, before returning to modern day, and everyone's name started with "A" so it was impossible to keep track of them...
Okay I'm done talking about this. It just sucked; don't be fooled by the pretty cover.

I also read Animorphs books #31-#34... I'm trying to only read four a month, to pace myself. At this point in the series, most of the books are ghostwritten (as Applegate had just given birth to her first child, and was also contracted to write another series). Of all the ghostwriters, I have to give special props to Melinda Metz, who, I believe, writes Cassie better than anyone, including Applegate (shh! Don't tell). Cassie is a difficult character to get right, as her strange way of thinking and stiff moral backbone can make her feel like a stick in the mud, a hypocrite, the token "chick" of the group, etc. People are often frustrated with her views and choices. Metz manages to consistently strike that delicate balance, allowing the audience to understand Cassie and her place in the group.

December 2020 Wrap-Up/ Going Forward

Woop woop! New Year, new... books? New Year, new BIRTHDAY! (I'm (almost) a New Year's baby.) Just hit the big two-seven today, so you know I'm old. I don't think I achieved any of my resolutions from last year, but in my defense, THE APOCALYPSE STRUCK, so...

This year my reading list is 125 books, which does seem insane. And it is. But there is a method to my madness!

That method being... I'm determined to clean out my "to read" shelf on this here lovely website. I went through already and deleted everything I wasn't interested in and knew I wouldn't enjoy (or even just rare/hard to find books I knew would be too expensive), which left... 125 books. Not to say I have to FINISH all of them... If I hit the 25% mark and it sucks, I'm allowed to DNF.

I'm allowed to count all comics, kid's books, and re-reads towards the goal, because why the hell not. The world's on fire and I'm screaming into a void, anyway. (Note: An unfinished book does NOT count towards my reading goal. That's my one remaining rule.)

... But before I go stuff myself with birthday cake (when you're a grown-up, you're allowed to eat directly out of the pan, and you don't have to share), here's what I read in December 2020:

So... Yeah, The Only Good Indians is classified as horror, but I don't know if that's what I'd call it. There are moments that are gory and horrifying (tw for a LOT of graphic, violent animal death, btw), but more than that it was about Blackfeet culture and heritage and family bonds and old friendships and... You know me; I'm a SUCKER for deep, lifelong bonds between messy, complicated characters. The first half was SUCH a mindfuck that I thought it was gonna be another "Bunny," but at the second half it explains and wraps itself up gorgeously; full-circle-style. I cannot articulate to you how GORGEOUS the writing was. I may be a little obsessed with the author, now. It's a cliché to say something is Stephen King-esque, but it specifically reminded me of the best parts of his "Dreamcatcher" in the relationships and characters. That said, it's much better and trimmer than that; all the meat, none of the fat. Pun not intended (or is it???).

Shockingly, I never read the Artemis Fowl series as a child. I say "shockingly" because it features two things I love above all else: fairies, and villain protagonists. Anyway; it was... Fine. It was very cleverly written; you can tell Colfer is brilliant and puts a ton of effort and care into his work. But it was also... Goofy and juvenile, and I've been spoiled rotten by the dark themes and violence and "war is hell" atmosphere of Animorphs. I've never really gravitated towards the lighthearted, even when I was a kid. I prefer my fairies to be bloodthirsty. (That's no shade on this series, by the way. I totally see why it's beloved. I 100% understand that not everything can or even SHOULD be heavy. It's just a matter of preference.)

Something is Killing the Children is a hit graphic novel series, not even a year old and already winning awards, with chapters released monthly (for free! On Hoopla!) Oh MAN, what a story... As the title suggests, there is a beast in the woods slaughtering an unlucky city's children by the dozens. More go missing (or are found in pieces) every night. Unfortunately, this beast is completely invisible to adults... Save for one. Erica, a mysterious newcomer to the city, works with the few children who survive encounters with the beast to hunt and eliminate it. Trigger warnings for gore and child death (obviously); volume one has graphic images of what remains after the beast's attack pretty early on, and it only gets worse from there. I've read the first few volumes already... It's one of those things where I just need to sit down and power through the rest, the first moment my ADHD-riddled brain will allow.

I haven't re-read the HP series in... Woof, eight years? Nine? I'm so old! Anyway, in light of Rowling outing herself as a shitty human being, I guess the morbidly curious masochist in me wanted to see how well the series held up. They shaped such a huge part of my life, true, but most of that was just fandom experience/fanfiction; the empire we built on the books' bones. As an author myself, I fully endorse "death of the author." Once a book is out in the world, it takes new life inside the minds of readers, and no longer belongs (solely) to the creator. I just hit book #4 in my series re-read (listening to the audiobooks illegally downloaded onto YouTube, of course, so no revenue lines Rowling's overstuffed pockets). Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is a good midpoint; the squad is maturing (slowly, and with lots of hiccups, as all teenagers do). They're taking on new experiences and challenges their book-one selves wouldn't have been capable of handling, emotionally or skill-wise. Particularly interesting is Harry's growing resentment of his abusive homelife (and Ron's feelings towards his own poverty and inadequacy); he's NEVER been an angel to just lie there and take it, but as his confidence grows, he's showing more teeth. I'm putting my feelings for this under a spoiler tag because it gets rather long and rambly

<spoiler>The worldbuilding was expanded considerably in this book, as we're shown more of the wizarding world. Suddenly international wizards, and their cultures, come into play. The cold-blooded murder of Cedric Diggory marks a sharp tonal shift, and the series remains much darker from that point on. (And I will confess, the scene in the hospital, following the events of the graveyard, when Harry about has a meltdown in Mrs. Weasley's arms? That moment always brings tears to my eyes, even many re-reads later.) I'm far more critical of different elements than I was as a young thing (honestly, Ron and Harry don't deserve Hermione. At all. They treat her like trash, and so does the narrative in refusing to give her the same depth of backstory or relationships outside of their trio that it allows the boys to have), but I think the series' strong suit IS writing flawed, realistic characters, and it's quite good at showing platonic relationships and the ageing process, warts and all. (Now, ROMANTIC relationships, on the other hand? Pretty much every romantic relationship is badly written and nonsensical.) I really do NOT appreciate the wash of fat/body shaming that surrounds characters Harry doesn't like (Dursleys, etc); it hurt me as a (gay, insecure, fat) kid, and it hurts worse now. Even the thin characters aren't immune; Snape is, and has always been, my favorite character, and some of the negativity surrounding his appearance feels both racial and gendered. I could nitpick all day about all the problems of this series, but... Honestly, I don't want to. I can't say the appeal is ALL nostalgia, as there are some very good elements, but we shouldn't have put the series on as high of a pedestal as we did. I've read better, I've WRITTEN better, and we as a fandom should expect better of our heroes.</spoiler>

I've been sitting on The Mirador for AGES, so I finally just buckled down and forced myself to finish this beast. Clean slate for 2021, y'know? Anyone going into the Doctrine of Labyrinths series should be aware of ALL the trigger warnings. Just... All of them. (Notably rape, incest, pedophilia/child sex slavery, domestic abuse, gruesome murder, torture...) Half the time it feels like an emo wank-fest... But I won't lie; I'm kinda into emo wank-fests. Sometimes. When they're gay and well-written. And it IS gay and well-written, BUT. (There's always a but.) It is... Very inaccessible to the average Joe (me). I've had to do more research for this series than I have for any other. I had to research the damn caste system for Industrial Revolution France just to BEGIN understanding what the hell was going on. This series just makes up words for things that ALREADY have words (wizards are "hocuses," instead of saying "dominant/submissive," it says "tarquin/martyr," etc. And it NEVER bothers to explain what the hell it's talking about.) Instead of saying someone was 42 years old, they say she's "six septads old." (I'm serious. That happened. I had to do mental multiplication. Monette, whyyy.) You practically have to have a damn flowchart to keep track of all the characters, locations, and "plots." Not to mention, one of the main characters (Felix) becomes so unlikable he's damn near intolerable. Yes; I understand he has bipolar disorder and untreated PTSD. But guess what? I have clinically diagnosed PTSD, too, and I don't go around cheating on my partners or hitting my siblings in the face. Just saying.

Is it worth all the effort and frustration? I'm three books in and I'm still not sure. (I don't even know what the plot is. IS there a plot???) I've had some discussions on my blog with fans of the series, and they say that some of my questions are obvious to high fantasy fans; this level of extreme worldbuilding is just How It Is. I don't usually like high fantasy for that very reason, so... But honestly, where else am I supposed to get that angsty, dirtybadwrong gay incest with BDSM undertones? Outside of fanfiction websites, that is. (Yeah, I'm gross, but at least I'm self-aware. Ain't no shame in my game.)

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that two more Kitty Norville books had been published in 2020... It's been 5 years since the last book, and now we get TWO new ones? Nice! (Incidentally, neither of these books are the new ones. I'm just saying that the fact that new ones exist at all has inspired me to try and finish the series.) Urban fantasy is more my speed when it comes to fantasy subgenres. It's grounded in reality, and deals with modern issues. Kitty is a late-night radio host, who just so happens to be a werewolf. She starts offering advice to any non-human listeners of her show, and thus sparks a Whole Big Thing, including Kitty taking over her abusive pack and even "coming out" to the human public. The series becomes a tale of civil rights as supernatural beings try and integrate with their human peers. Not the most original of concepts, but the worldbuilding is interesting; I've always been a fan of "grounded, scientific explanations for the supernatural." (You'll see a lot of that in my own series, All My Seas.) It's far from perfect, and it takes some weird turns, but the author really lets her historical lit flag fly as she dives deep into legends like Gilgamesh and the founding of Rome as Kitty comes to understand her world. (Emphasis on the "history." Vaughn goes FULL nerd with her Spanish Inquisition-era vampire, and I love that for her.) And here's where I put in another spoiler cut, because I guess I was just feeling really chatty:

<spoiler>Some of my favorite issues the series tackles are the most personal ones, however. For example, when Kitty's mother develops breast cancer, they have a long discussion about immortality and consent as Kitty offers to turn her mother into a werewolf (thus granting her near-immortality and perfect health). Kitty did NOT have a choice when she was turned, and part of her wants to take that choice away from her mother, too; she wants to turn her despite her saying no. Kitty is actively choosing to let her family age and sicken and, eventually, die, when she can do none of those things. She is aware she will, someday, be without them. Then there's the fact that Kitty miscarries several pregnancies before coming to understand that, because her uterus changes shape along with the rest of her body, she CAN'T carry a pregnancy to full-term. That's INTERESTING! That's the level of humanity I want to see in my Urban Fantasy. These books weren't the best of the series... Kitty in the Underworld focuses on Kitty getting kidnapped by a cult of were-felines (again. Kitty herself lampshades that this happens too often), with the intent of defeating the evil vampire, Roman. Low Midnight takes a turn; for the first time (in the main series; it happens a few times in the spin-offs), the entire book is narrated by Cormac, the former were-hunter. Cormac is possibly the most popular side-character in the series; many fans (myself included) were surprised that his romance with Kitty never panned out. They had a fun Buffy/Spike vibe going on.</spoiler>

Animorphs #26-#30 (and two of the spinoffs) are here, too. God... This series is just GOOD. It's so good, you guys. #29 left me absolutely sobbing at my desk at work, and it has one of the few truly HAPPY endings of the series. The character Cassie is widely hated by the fandom for some choices she makes later in the series, and I've been having an interesting time reading essays (actual essays) by her fans defending her; saying her perspective is what elevates this series from "just" another war series. This IS a war series, and it shows you what many WON'T: It shows you the humanity of the antagonists. It puts worth on them, and makes their loss a genuine tragedy. It darkens and twists our heroes' morality and limits until you're left wondering who the real monster is. It leaves victories feeling hollow. It teaches you that people don't come back from war; not completely; not ever. How many other kids' series will feature a young teenager shoving his own mother off a cliff's edge while tearfully whispering, "I love you"? Everything is a choice with consequences; even inaction.

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As for the ongoing series I'm reading, I obviously intend to finish Animorphs and the Dublin Murder Squad series in 2021. I've stopped reading Maggie Stiefvater's works, not for any personal reason, but because I think I'm drifting away from her style (I just don't find teenagers, budding romance, and the classicist world of academia all that relatable). I've also decided to stop reading the October Daye series (sorry, Seanan McGuire! I love your "Mira Grant" books so much, but I just wasn't enjoying this series)! And I'm officially done with Holly Black— the last "Folk of the Air" book was so crushingly disappointing that I DON'T TRUST HER WITH MY HEART ANYMORE. (Made all the more painful by how phenomenal — nay, PERFECT — the first two books were.) HOLLY, WHY?!?!

I'm still reading Patricia Briggs' "Mercy Thompson" series, but you bet I'm side-eyeing the way she's been writing female characters lately (Elizaveta, anyone? What the hell was THAT shit, Patty???) I'd like to finish Kitty Norville, too. And I'm determined to finish the Doctrine of Labyrinth series, no matter how confusing it is.

I don't usually pay much attention to new releases, but I'm excited to read Pumpkin by Julie Murphy when it comes out in May. Her dear books just soothe my fat-girl soul.

Still, I'm determinedly NOT making many 2021 goals. Our world is a dumpster fire, and my real goals are just to survive. If that means withdrawing into the safety and shelter of books, then so be it.

Okay. Now that that's all settled, I'm stuffing myself with tea and cake. Ciao.

Best of 2020

I read 104 books this year (see them all here); some good ones, some popular ones, some you might be surprised NOT to find on this best-of list. But this is just my "favorites" list; stuff I might be willing to read a second time, someday.

Note that not all of these items are recently published works-- they simply have to be new TO ME. And I'm not including any re-reads, either, though I re-read quite a few things this year. No; this list is just for items that I read for the first time in 2020.

I knew T. Kingfisher would show up on more of my lists, eventually! The Twisted Ones stars Mouse, a middle-aged woman, sent to clean out her (dead) hoarder grandma's house so that it can be sold. Unfortunately, her grandma lived on a literal hellmouth with terrifying monsters and portholes to other worlds! With the help of elderly hippie neighbors and her lovably dumb dog, Mouse ventures into the unknown to find out what, exactly, happened to her grandfather. Aliens and portals and seriously creepy poetry ensues. I'm not easily scared by fiction, but holy SHIT, those BONE CREATURES. Also, and this is a shallow reason to love a book, but STFU, this is my list: I LOVE books that star single, middle-aged (or older!) women, and have absolutely nothing to do with romantic relationships. I just do. (It particularly amused me that one of the hippies frequently wears fishnet stockings... My own grandmother wore red fishnets to her ex-husband's funeral. I just love baller old ladies.)

Speaking of baller old ladies, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid isn't your typical chick-lit. Borrowing from the lives of Old Hollywood celebs like Audrey Hepburn and Black Dahlia, Evelyn is an elderly former actress conducting her first interview in decades, spilling all about her fascinating life from the slums of Cuba to the Hollywood lights, and all the people she used, manipulated, and married on her path to the top. (A hint: She is very decidedly not heterosexual. I don't count this as a spoiler, but an incentive. I wouldn't have read this at all if I didn't know that. And that would have been a shame, because this whole story was INTERESTING, from the glitz and glam and badly concealed bigotry of Old Hollywood, to the absolute merciless lengths a queer woman of color must go through to achieve what is handed to straight, white men.)

The Wall by Marlen Haushofer, translated from its original Austrian, tells the story of an unnamed woman who finds herself alone in the Alps, surrounded by an invisible wall that keeps her in place. Suspecting nuclear attack, she has no choice but to homestead, planting crops and caring for the few animals left alive after the unexplained event. This book chronicles her life of isolation; her musings on existence and womanhood (specifically, the pressures society builds on performative feminity and the freedom of its absence), as she tries to survive in a universe without humanity. When I hear people talk about how well they would survive an apocalypse (after all... they have GUNS!!!), I always think of this book. I doubt very many people would be able to do all the tedious, constant, nitty-gritty, DAILY tasks needed to keep oneself alive, completely alone, at the end of the world. Good sir, would YOU be able to deliver a breech calf, or pull your own infected tooth?

The Girl with Seven Names: A North Korean Defector’s Story by Hyeonseo Lee is, I think, the only non-fiction on this list. (I'm trying to read more NF, I promise...) it details the multi-decade tale of a North Korean teenager escaping her home country for Seoul, where she would be granted amnesty (and then turning right back around for her mother and brother. She just wouldn't give up until her family was safe). The story itself was incredible; stranger than fiction, as they say. Although I knew it ended alright, there were scenes that had me gripping the edge of my seat. I've always had a deep fear of North Korea, without knowing much about it. This book inspired me to start actually researching and learning about it; about those who've survived their escape, and those who haven't. And even those who choose to go back. And though I already had strong feelings about the way my OWN country abuses Mexican immigrants, this intensified my desire for research and activism. People are people are people, and deserve open borders and safety.

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg is beloved by the queer community for a reason, but while the lifelong romance between Ruth and Idgie is certainly the heart of the story, there's so much MORE to it. This book tackles heavy concepts like racism/the KKK, murder, cannibalism, and domestic abuse... But it never loses its heart or its tenderness. This book spans generations, starting in a small town long gone, featuring many characters long dead, and yet you connect so HEARTILY with them. Honestly, if this weren't written as WELL as it was, the sheer number of characters and plotlines jumping all around would be overwhelming, but all of this was beautifully crafted, with every loose end tied up so satisfyingly. It will probably leave you crying AND glad to be alive. And hungry. I want so much Southern cooking, right now...

Oh, what a strange, strange book Bunny by Mona Awad was. I've tried my best to enjoy books in the 'dark academia' subgenre, but it's often a little too worshipful of old money/class structures for my tastes. Not so with "Bunny..." This was closer to surreal horror than anything else. And culty! Love me some creepy cults. Unfortunately, it's harder to describe than Alice and Wonderland... All the weird shit is pretty spoilery. At a pretentious art college, one girl finally finds the break she needs to get in good with the "it" girls. Hive-minds, gore, and explosives ensue. I predicted absolutely nothing that would happen, up to the very last page. A complete and total mind-fuck.

A Cosmology of Monsters by Shaun Hamill might be my FAVORITE favorite of the year... I even purchased a copy, and I never do that. (I'm a library gal, through and through.) Can you tell I love stories about screwed-up families? In this tale, the "monster" is both figurative (in schizophrenia, which is treated with more respect than most books handle it), and literal, in the wolf-like being that follows an ill-fated family through generations before finally making a real connection with their youngest son. This book goes to some unexpected depths (the "cosmology" part of the title is there for a reason), and I LOVED the ending, which was much, much darker than most authors dare go. Fantastic.

Rosemary's Baby by Ira Levin is well-remembered for a reason: It's superb. I loved the movie as a young'n, and the book is even better. It's just the utter tragedy of period-typical misogyny... Any one of the men in Rosemary's life (her neighbors, her doctor, her very husband), could have prevented the horror that took place, but to them, Rosemary was an object to be used and discarded. She did everything to the best of her knowledge, but was foiled every step of the way by ignorance, indifference, and systemic oppression. The tiny bit of agency she manages to scrape at the very, very end leads the reader to hope for a better future for her, even if it ends the world. Chilling and spectacularly written.

I usually find thrillers and murder mysteries to be boring and predictable; a dime a dozen, with flat characters and scarcely anything special inside. If you read enough of them, as I did as a tween/teen, you can usually pick them apart (or worse: fail to become invested at all). AND THEN THERE'S Tana French's "Dublin Murder Squad" series. She looked at the dry formula for murder mysteries and said "huh; screw that." You want a mystery that MAY OR MAY NOT be supernatural? She's your girl. You want a mystery that REMAINS UNSOLVABLE? SHE'S YOUR GIRL. You want gorgeous prose, flawed characters, painful characters, characters to fall in love with; characters worth writing fanfic about? SHE'S. YOUR. GIRL. The good guys don't always win in this series! The protagonists are unreliable as HELL. Sometimes the bad guys pull through by tiny legal loopholes that leave you grinding your teeth. And always, always that little "what if..." about the legends of Ireland... These books are long, dense, and masterful. I highly recommend.

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind was another weird one. (Look; I'm a weird girl. I like weird books. Leave me alone.) I'd seen the movie, of course, because ALAN RICKMAN; 'nuff said. As usual, though, THE BOOK WAS BETTER. This was like... A bizarre fairy tale; one of the old ones, where Cinderella's stepsisters cut off chunks of their own feet to fit into her slipper. (Yes, really.) In this tale, a French man with a supernaturally strong sense of smell sets out to create the perfect perfume... By murdering pretty girls and distilling their essence. Mass orgies and cannibalism ensue. Look; call me sick, but the narration was so dry and whimsical I couldn't help but laugh.

Mostly Dead Things by Kristen Arnett positively wrecked me. This was an ugly, dirty (in the most literal sense; there was filth and rot on every page), heartbroken tale of a middle-aged lesbian trying to keep the family's taxidermy business running after her emotionally distant father's suicide. She and her brother, who were both sleeping with (and abandoned by) the same woman, struggle to bridge an emotional gap, filled only by their lost love's teenage daughter. Her mother copes by dressing the taxidermized animals up in BDSM gear, much to her children's dismay. This book might be too bleak for those who like a positive narrative, but I like a little grit in my lit. I thought it was brilliant, unique, and darkly funny.

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson should absolutely be listened to as an audiobook, if at all possible. It's quite short, at about 3.5 hours long, and details multiple generations of a black American family, their pride in their culture, and the events they endure (on a national level, from the Tulsa race massacres to the 9/11 terrorist attacks) and on a personal level (teen pregnancy, coming of age ceremonies, family traditions)... There are many books like it, but the beautiful, evocative writing of this one moved me. And the audio performances! The soothing, rhythmic wording put in solid, calming voices actually lowered my blood pressure after some rough days at work. It was like poetry. Well done.

Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi was the strange tale of a Nigerian girl born with multiple gods (lower-case "g") inside her. The gods are sentient and narrate most of the book, though it takes a while for all of them to "wake..." Generally they wake after a traumatic event and serve to protect their host, Ada, from suffering. A lot of their tale is cemented in Nigerian folklore/myths, though I really LIKE the way Emezi writes Jesus (yes, THAT Jesus), who occasionally drops by for a visit. Some of it, I interpreted instead as a mentally ill girl trying to find an explanation of her suffering (self harm, disordered eating, sexual assault, transphobia, etc), but I'd love to know what other readers made of it-- were the gods real; did they take the book at face value; or are they thinking more along my lines? Regardless, Emezi is an incredibly talented author, and I'd love to read more of their work.

So... Yeah, The Only Good Indians is classified as horror, but I don't know if that's what I'd call it. There are moments that are gory and horrifying (tw for a LOT of graphic, violent animal death, btw), but more than that it was about Blackfeet culture and heritage and family bonds and old friendships and... You know me; I'm a SUCKER for deep, lifelong bonds between messy, complicated characters. The first half was SUCH a mindfuck that I thought it was gonna be another "Bunny," but at the second half it explains and wraps itself up gorgeously; full-circle-style. I cannot articulate to you how GORGEOUS the writing was. I may be a little obsessed with the author, now. It's a cliché to say something is Stephen King-esque, but it specifically reminded me of the best parts of his "Dreamcatcher" in the relationships and characters. That said, it's much better and trimmer than that; all the meat, none of the fat. Pun not intended (or is it???).

September-November 2020 Reads

I haven't really been in a reading mood, as of late. (Or a 'talking to my friends' mood, or a 'being alive' mood, or...) I did some more writing than usual, so that's kind of exciting, but my mental health has been at a low for a while. But I've been a little busy surviving a pandemic while still working a full-time job, existing as a human with clinical PTSD, moving into a new condo, and voting a literal fascist out of the White House. (Ding dong, the witch is dead.)

Even my audiobook reading went way down. My new place is way closer to my work, so I no longer have that long commute to listen to audiobooks during... And what time I do have has been replaced by podcasts. (Note: "House of Black" is a great, queer-positive podcast if you want to wash the nasty taste of "JK Rowling is a TERF" out of your mouth.)

Anyway, without further ado...

I read Animorphs #14-25, (plus a few of the spinoffs), which sounds like a lot... And it is... But considering each book takes only a few hours to read, it's not that bad. It's such a good story of the horrors of war; it's such GOOD writing. (As a horror lover, I HONESTLY think Applegate writes better, more effective and period-appropriate horror than most modern authors. Some of these books left me CHILLED)... I wanted to draw special attention to how GOOD she is at writing flawed characters, SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE all their flaws exist on the same axis as their graces. Jake is a fearless leader... To the point where he will commit atrocities and war crimes (up to and including genocide) to achieve victory. Rachel is brave and daring... And she becomes more and more bloodthirsty, a danger to her friends, as the books go along. Marco believes in taking the most straightforward approach... Even if that straightforward approach is, say, killing a small child. His mental health fractures as he tries so hard to always see the humor in situations that he's left laughing at the world's destruction. It's CHILLING and I love it. Every character declines in a linear fashion, making the series a perfect tragedy. (And boy howdy, is it tragic.) Animorphs respects its audience and does not talk down to kids.

I listened to the audiobook Get a Life, Chloe Brown, which was adorable and wholesome for all you romance-lovers. Unfortunately... Adorable and wholesome isn't really my wheelhouse. The stakes were too low and the fluff content was too high for my bitter little soul. BUT I will praise the (black) author, Talia Hibbert, for writing happy, plus-size black characters knowing what they want and GETTING it. (And I really appreciate the candid talk of domestic abuse, male victims OF said abuse, positive disability rep, male friends who genuinely support and love each other, and elderly black, yoga-teaching lesbians! Seriously, I am by no means saying this has nothing to offer; it has PLENTY to offer!) I can't see myself reading the sequels, but I'm sure they're equally adorable and wholesome.

I wanted to like The Audition by Ryu Murakami, since it spawned such a classic horror film, but it... Fell flat. It was marketed as such a dissection of sexist relationships in Japan, and an analysis of childhood abuse, and it... Wasn't. Everything was bluntly spelled out to the audience: "She did this thing BECAUSE--" and "Her bad childhood led her to--" As though Murakami doesn't trust his audience to put the obvious pieces together. (Might have been a translation issue, though.) (And as for "discussing sexism," it... Really didn't? Yes, the premise was incredibly sexist, but it provided no criticism or commentary on his actions, or what in his culture led him to feel this deception was acceptable. He never once self-reflects or is challenged for his beliefs.) I never felt creeped out or disturbed; just bored. Aoyama was a jerk (and an idiot), so I was never worried for his wellbeing. The horror element doesn't really creep in until the final 30 minutes. This was definitely an instance of "the movie did it better."

Another translated-from-Japanese book I read was The Graveyard Apartment, which snagged me by title ALONE. (I'm kinda tired of big ol' haunted English Gothic/Victorian mansions, aren't you? Give me a haunted two-bedroom apartment in Tokyo, instead.) It was good, and quite spooky. I liked that it didn't feel the need to tie things up or overexplain; the bare-bones simplicity made it creepier, in the end. Plus, I really liked the woman they hired for translating; she really added a warmth and energy while making it accessible to fans less familiar with Japanese culture. Seriously; give her more work. She's good at her job.

On my best friend's recommendation, I tackled the audiobook for Deacon King Kong, which was DENSE AND LONG, but so freaking good... I think the New Yorker did far more justice in reviewing it than I could, but it was a 5-star punch to the chest and kiss to the forehead about close relations in the ghetto of late-60s Brooklyn. In this world, cops are big-hearted, mobsters are honorable, and hit-men are stopped in cartoonishly comedic ways, but it's not a case of the author being naïve so much as deliberately fantastical and optimistic; this was a 16-hour fairy tale, with plenty of commentary about race relations on top. It was strange, it was convoluted, and it was expertly crafted. A lesser author could never. It's been several weeks since I read this, and I'm still thinking of all the characters by name, and their complicated relationships.

In my slow march through Stephen King's published works (full-length novels only; I rarely care for short stories), I decided to tackle his first ever; the One that made him famous. Carrie was some good shit. Yeah, I raised my eyebrow at a few things (do early King works ALWAYS feature female characters having a long, contemplative look at their own nipples? Actually, that frames most of my complaints. King tries his best to write the way he believes women think, and he... Does okay, for a cis dude. But still. There are Moments). I really liked the way this was organized; a piecemeal little scrapbook telling the story of how Carrie White, bullied to the brink of sanity, mascaraed an entire town with unprecedented telekinetic powers. (And yes, it was very cathartic. By the end I was thinking, "let them burn.") It was good! Not as good as my favorite, or his darkest work, but still solid.

I went through a Danielle Vega binge in November. I like her work because (despite being marketed as YA), it's exceedingly gory and violent, and I'm into that shit. We've got gouged eyeballs and oozing brain matter left and right. I like how female-centric it all is, too (I wouldn't call it "good female rep," mind, as all the characters are shallow as a baking tray, but still). All of Vega's books exist in the same spacey, melodramatic YA-universe that Nora Sakavic's "All For the Game" series does (except instead of being "that's... not how team sports or personality disorders OR organized crime work," it's "that's... not how Christianity/Catholicism works, or mental institutions, or...") But if you can suspend your disbelief to enjoy the dumb cheese and torture porn, it's more or less a fun time.

I didn't enjoy Vega's "Haunted" series as much as I did her "Merciless" one The only thing they had going for it was that her ghosts and spooks are almost as fun as her demons. These were some NASTY ghosts. I ended up DNF-ing the second book in the series... The characters are even more dull and shallow than those in Merciless, and that's saying something. Maybe it's my fault for reading all of Vega's stuff in just a couple weeks, but her writing was VERY same-y and predictable after a while. They're not quite as gruesome or mean-spirited as Merciless, which I think worked to its detriment... The best part of Merciless WAS how batshit and unhinged everyone was. This was like the diet soda version of that.

Last year I read Emezi 's "Pet," which made it onto my "best of 2019" list, but I liked Freshwater way, way more. I know I need to be more consistent with trigger warnings, but this one definitely warrants TWs for disordered eating, self harm, sexual assault, some transphobia, and attempted suicide... All this was so intrinsically woven into the story there's no "skipping over" it. I don't entirely know what to make of this story, honestly. I loved it; it was unique; I gave it 5 stars; I thought the writing was absolutely gorgeous. I feel like there's two major interpretations that can be made from it; either our main character (Ada) was LITERALLY possessed by a handful of gods, or Ada was struggling with some form of DID that correlated with her own Nigerian mythology. It was a coming of age story, but perhaps the strangest one I've ever read, and not just because the POV and timeline jumps through all the gods that possess Ada (and Ada herself narrates, sometimes). Either way it was a dreamy and hypnotizing read... Recommended to fans of The Song of Achilles.

The books in the Dublin Murder Squad series are high quality and absolutely worth a read, but they're so dense (not particularly LONG; but DENSE) I can only tackle one every couple of months. Anyway, The Likeness was so good I've officially added Tana French to the list of "authors who are so good that I've become jealous and angry about it." This series has just got such a touch of melancholy and the possibility of the supernatural subtly touching on the fringes that it makes even the gritty reality of day-to-day policework feel distinctly Irish. I really don't want to say much, because this series is just something that should be experienced, but read it if you like well-written (flawed!) characters and mysteries upon mysteries, so tightly woven they could hold water.

So ONE of the Podcasts I've been listening to, "I've Read That," features two women working in children's education/the public school district discussing famous kid-lit, such as: does this deserve its 'classic' status, are the lessons still applicable to kids today, and how could teachers/parents incorporate this in their child's education?

Am I a teacher? Nope. Do I have kids? Hell, no. Do I really enjoy the discussions held in this Podcast? Yep! So I ended up re-reading some of the books they've brought onto their show; books I haven't read since I was a kid, myself.

The Secret Garden was... Huh. I did NOT pick up on all the, uh. Racial insensitivities in this book the first time around. The book STARTS in British-occupied India (which, yikes, but historically accurate, so... Okay). Mary is waited upon by Indian servants, whom she verbally and physically abuses. Again: Yikes, but I'm sure it was common at the time. When Mary moves to England, her Yorkshire servant refers to Indian people as "blacks," (but it's just a mark of ignorance, not cruelty...), but THEN Mary goes on a tangent about how Indian people aren't "really" people, and... At some point you have to wonder, how much is Mary talking, and how much is the author talking?

Alright, so racism is the most glaring issue, but there were a few others that had me cocking my head. Should adults really be calling a small child "ugly," especially to her face? Then there's the whole "poor people are happy, ignorant, and more connected with nature!" (Poverty is a crushing steel trap, but okay.) And what, exactly, was the moral at the end? "If you stop being disabled, maybe your father will love you"??? Of course there was more to it; it was a story of neglected, friendless children who found healing in companionship and nature. I like that! But I feel like other books could (and have) explored those themes better. Just because something is "classic" doesn't mean it's good, or applicable. If your kid wants to read this... Maybe read it with them? Have some of these discussions?

Holes was much more familiar, enjoyable territory. I loved this book as a kid, I loved the movie as a kid (I saw it in theater! Twice!), I had the soundtrack on my little red C.D. player... Even today, my office plays this movie often on the break room TV (sometimes, inexplicably, in French. As far as I'm aware, nobody in the office speaks French). And it's great for starting discussions. I'm a dirty dirty liberal, and I say defund the police and abolish the prison system, but if you want a gentler approach, this is a great conversation-starter about legal inequalities and how they primarily, unfairly, target poor/homeless people and POC. (Of course it's not always perfect... The use of the G-slur in reference to Madame Zeroni, as well as Stanley's weight loss being seemingly tied to his character development, made me cringe.) And the way Stanley's present is so entangled with the pasts of so many memorable characters was just great storytelling. (Kissin' Kate Barlow owns my gay little heart.) Past and present come together in a climax so good I'd hate to spoil it... This book is beloved for a reason and I had a great time re-visiting it.

Favorite Movies

I was tagged on my other blog to make a Top 9 list of my favorite movies. This was a little tricky for me, only because I don't watch a lot of movies. I haven't seen... Pretty much any entries in popular cinema, which drove my ex mad. ("The Godfather?" "Nope." "Fast & Furious?" "Nope." "Titanic? Star Wars? The Notebook? Iron Man???" "Nope")

(That said, I WILL trip over myself running to any horror movie; old or new, good or bad. I have a Shudder subscription for a reason. If you wanna know about horror, I'm your gal.)

But there are a FEW things that set off the hyperfixation fireworks in my ADHD-riddled brain. In ascending order, here's all the movies I loved enough to watch all the way through... sometimes more than once!

1. Wolf Children Ame and Yuki is the only animated entry on this list, which is a shame... I love animation, American and otherwise. But most animated things I love are shows or shorts, not movies, so they don't "count." Not so for Wolf Children! The art and animation here is beautiful, detailed, and fluid enough to rival Studio freaking Ghibli. The story told here is one of children; half wolf, half human, growing up in the rural Japanese countryside and discovering which world they identify with more. It's a tear-jerker, for sure, with themes of motherhood and identity.

2. What We Do in the Shadows is a comedy... And I so rarely enjoy comedy. It's not that I don't have a sense of humor; it's that my humor isn't... often the type that makes it into films. My ADHD makes me hyper-empathetic, so cringe comedy (and the fear of social faux pas/ rejection) causes me physical pain. WWDiTS, however, hits all of my buttons. A hilarious, incredibly quotable documentary-style tale of vampire roommates struggling to make it in the modern world actually has some traces of depth, being an immigrant found-family story. Mostly, though, it's just silly and heartfelt. These disaster vampires love each other so much, damn it!!!

3. I am a wee bit obsessed with X-Men comics and cartoons. Unfortunately, none of the movies have really captured what I love about the franchise (though Ian McKellen as Magneto is the uncontested love of my life. Sir Ian, if for whatever reason you ever require a plus-size lesbian for a wife, call me). Logan (2017), however, comes very, very close. What a stunning, heartbreaking movie. It's (almost) perfect, only dragging a little in the middle. The ACTING, my God... I'm honestly tearing up just thinking about it. Bring the tissues and settle in; you're in for some found family protecting each other to the last breath. (Also, creepy men named Donald getting their asses kicked by Mexican children. LOVE that.)

4. Guillermo Del Toro is a phenomenal director, and he's responsible for many of my faves. (Pan's Labyrinth traumatized me as a child, sure, but it's still a masterpiece.) The Shape of Water (or, as my father calls it, the "naked fish sex movie"), is my favorite of his works so far. What a gorgeous take on fairy tales. A Cold War story of those overlooked and discriminated against (the disabled, the people of color, the homosexual), working together to rescue someone vulnerable from the violent white men in power. I have this movie on in the background at least a few times a week as I go about my day; it's so soothing and stylistic, like a lullaby. (And can we TALK about how phenomenal Sally Hawkins is in this role??? Or how much I LOVE women being unapologetically sexual in media, and it not being treated like a big deal? I NEED more romances starring women over 40, please and thank you.)

5. Baby Driver is a bit controversial now, considering the role Kevin Spacey played. I'm of the mind that one MUST sometimes divorce media from those who created it, because all art is connected to humans, and humans tend to be.... Shitty. (Hi, JK Rowling). Baby Driver is very much a style over substance film, where the soundtrack and settings are almost characters in and of themselves. It's a very visually (and auditorily) pleasing film, that's just pure eye and ear candy. The plot itself is simple, and yet it has enough warmth to make it special. It looks and feels like a music video, and yet there's enough depth to make it memorable. There is nothing about any scene, any shot, that is not deliberate.

6. Ari Aster is a FREAKING genius of a director. Everything he touches, from short films to feature-length productions, is pure gold. And while I truly loved Midsommar, it just doesn't hold a candle to the excellence of Hereditary. What a tight script; what beautiful filmography... Every time you watch this movie, you notice so much more. Every detail was planned to such a degree it's difficult to fathom. I genuinely think it's a masterpiece, and that it elevates the horror genre. The continuous DREAD you feel in your gut is real horror, and it sinks into you for hours. (Also, Alex Wolf is a wonderful actor, and him screaming and sobbing in fear set off my maternal instincts like whoa. He's a grown man, but I wanted to pick him up and carry him to safety.)

7. I don't particularly care for the MCU. I'm a comic and cartoon nerd, and I loathe the way the films portray some of my favorite characters. Tie me to the stake, boys; I hate the Avengers. THAT SAID, there IS (or WAS, before the Russos murdered everything Gunn created) one installment to the MCU that has some value, and that's Guardians of the Galaxy (Volume 2). It has all the humor of the first volume, and twice as much heart. The found family elements, healing/recovery narratives, and discussion of familial abuse and when abusers can be forgiven (Yondu) vs when they cannot (Thanos) was extremely moving. It made me cry all five times I saw it in theater (yes, I have the ticket stubs as proof). (I also wrote fanfiction for it, and created a roleplay blog, because I do not do things halfway.)

8. AGAIN I MUST PREFACE THIS BY SAYING I do not care for the MCU, but some smaller installments, like Deadpool and Venom, manage to sneak under my armor. I have a soft spot for all of them. The one I loved enough to add to this list was "Deadpool 2," which (like GOTG2), was just as funny as the first, with more of the stuff I love: found family and some genuinely touching moments. I am HERE for a plus-sized abuse survivor with mental health issues (so, basically me) finding a family who will stand by and protect him and love him at all costs. GIMME THAT GOOD SHIT. (Also, Zazie Beetz is Very Pretty and I am Very Gay.)

9. Mad Max: Fury Road is, as far as I'm considered, the perfect movie. It came to me when I most needed it; when I was at the lowest in my mental health. I saw it in theaters no less than thirteen times (I still have all the stubs!), I've written thousands upon thousands of words of fanfiction and metatextual analysis for this film, and even today if you ask me any questions about the actors, production, filming experience, or behind-the-scenes activity, I will start vibrating at an inhuman frequency and infodumping until your ears bleed. (Again: Thank you, ADHD.) I'm not joking when I say that most of the friendships and jobs of my adult life were directly or indirectly caused by my passion for this movie.