Black Flags: The Rise of ISIS

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Joby Warrick is a seasoned reporter for the Washington Post and this book won the Pulitzer Prize in 2016. So if you want to:

  • Be able to list the fifty thousand reasons we can confidently state, for the historical record, that Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi was a huge dick,*
  • Smugly explain the meanings of ISIS, ISIL, and Daesh to your friends and family (don't forget about the Al-Nusra Front for bonus points), and/or
  • Finally understand why everyone turnt on Gary Johnson so fast when he forgot about Aleppo,

Then this book has got you covered. More covered than a woman in ISIS-controlled Mosul in the summer of 2014. See? I'm already peppering the (horrifying) things I have learned into my day-to-day interactions. Boy, I am fun to be around right now, let me tell you.

However, the thing I took away the most from the story of Zarqawi and the pack o' assholes he led was how fragile our little bubbles are. To many of us, myself included,  "The Middle East" can sometimes feel like Narnia — it's far away, it's different, I don't *think* there are lions there but I can't be sure. But Warrick's details really bring it home — a few ill-timed decisions, some missed opportunities, a sprinkling of narcissistic sociopaths. That wardrobe door is thin, y'all. And, common decency aside, it's a pretty arrogant move to slam a thin door in someone's face. 

3.5 alarming cable news chyrons out of 5. 

*WAS. Not had. Clearly, not had. Probably tiny. Tiny enough to start a fucking terrorist organization. MASCULINITY SO FRAGILE, YO.

My Ántonia

PRAIRIES ARE THE SHIT. Or so I feel after reading this sun-dappled, breeze-filled ode to living on one next to a farm full of Bohemians.*

Young Jim Burden is orphaned and moves from Virginia to his grandparents farm in rural Nebraska. His life intertwines with Ántonia Shimerda, the eldest daughter of an immigrant family that's dropped into prairie life at the same time he is (though arguably less prepared for its challenges). We follow Jim as he takes in his new life, and Ántonia, with wide-eyed wonder. 

This was a recommendation from my mom. She's also the one who told me to read Lonesome Dove so, yeah — she knows a thing or two about good books featuring western landscapes and the men who love them set in the late 19th century. 

Jim has a deep and enduring love for Ántonia. But the the real relationship driving the story is between both of them and the prairie. Its vastness and beauty comforts and excites them. Its challenges punish them, but also offer opportunities for growth. Its a fully-realized character, and Cather's descriptions shine with finely wrought details and deeply felt emotions.

It's one of those novels that could never be made into a movie** — we see Ántonia through Jim's narration, through his eyes. It's not that he doesn't see things for what they are, but it's hard to imbue a camera lens with the same love and wonder that colors a person's view. No actress or sets, no matter how vibrant, could do justice to my Ántonia and the scenes she inhabits. I couldn't put it down, and I was sad to say goodbye.

Will an Official Mom Pick™ capture the coveted "best fiction book of 2017" trophy at the annual Janie Awards™ ?  It's early in the year, but the Vegas odds are good. 

5 giant grumpy old rattlesnakes out of 5.

*The place, not the *lifestyle*

**It was made into a TV movie starring Jason Robards and Neil Patrick Harris in 1995. I am ignoring this fact. 

Speed Round: 4 Books for Black History Month

Hello., Allow me, a young* white woman, to tell you about the Black experience in America. 

LOL. Nah. Let's not. 

This post isn't really about reviews, either. 53% of white women chose to cast their vote for the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.** Since then, most notably in discussions of the Womens March and more recently regarding Beyonce's approach to carrying two humans in her golden uterus, it's become clear that we should all shut up and listen. And when we're not shutting up and listening, we can be educating ourselves. 

To that end, I thought I'd share a few novels I've read recently that touch on being Black in America (and elsewhere). Not including non-fiction is deliberate — there are plenty of badass organizations staffed by people in the know who've put together some in-depth syllabi (Citizenship & Social Justice, a list from Black Voices at HuffPo, and the Social Justice Training Institute, to start).

But when it comes to understanding lived experience, for me, novels can be just as powerful. Also, please, don't for one second think this is a weird homework list. These books are good. Reading them is not a chore to be conquered (personally, my chore reading is more likely to be something by a dead Russian. LIGHTEN UP, Dostoevsky). I didn't include specific number ratings because while I liked some more than others, this isn't about ranking them or encouraging you to pick up one over the other. They are all full of interesting, funny, sad, weird, beautiful, ugly, frustrating, complicated stories. The last thing they need is my stamp of approval (um, especially the one Oprah picked). But I read 'em, and it's Black History Month. So shut up and listen. I'm trying to. 

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The Underground Railroad, by Colson Whitehead. The aforementioned Oprah-anointed book!  Whitehead's story of Cora and her attempt to escape from slavery is a gripping page-turner. The liberties Whitehead took with the past, such as transforming the underground railroad into a literal railroad, make the very real injustices and atrocities he depicts stand out in sharp relief. As always, his prose is elegant and deliberate. 

 

Homegoing, by Yaa Gyasi. This one covers 300+ years of history, from two very different perspectives. It begins with two Ghanian sisters. One is married to a British slaver, the other sold into slavery and shipped to America. We follow their stories and their descendants through to the present day — Gyasi never loses the thread of those first, divergent experiences, and showcases how the effects ripple forward with each generation. 

 

The Thing Around Your Neck, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. This book of short stories, by the celebrated author of Americanah, touches especially on the immigrant experience and themes of belonging. Most of the stories have female protagonists — Adichie showcases the impact of everyday misogyny, in American and African settings. Also, she is a fucking funny writer. Bonus! 

 

The Mothers, by Brit Bennett. This is the only one on the list to take place entirely in contemporary America. Bennett's debut novel is perhaps narrower in breadth, but it certainly doesn't suffer for it — the characterization is deeply and finely wrought. It focuses on the impact of one unintended pregnancy in a small Black church's community in Southern California. 

 

 

*-ish.

**Yeah I'm joining the Voldemort, he-who-must-not-be-named camp. Maybe if we stop saying his name he'll fade away like a stale fart. 

 

 

 

Sleeping Giants

Some advice to men everywhere — if you really want to write a book where you are the hero, please try and disguise it a bit more.  If you make him a Québécois linguist, when I finish the book and see on the "about the author" flap that you, shockingly, are also a Québécois linguist, my eyes may roll so far back into my head that they become stuck there, never to gaze upon your terrible prose again.* 

Why not a Parisian speech pathologist? A Brazilian symbologist?** You can't argue this is a "write what you know" situation — your novel is about giant robots created by aliens.  Yes, you manage to make them as mundane as a John Deere tractor, but still. Clearly there's an imagination in there. 

Unfortunately, it did not show itself when planning the novel's format. Most of it is presented as the transcripts of interviews conducted by a "shadowy figure" with the novel's main characters. This allows for passages where exposition happens like this:

Character: Do you know about _____?

Shadowy Figure: Yes. Of course I do. What part of omniscient shadowy figure do you not understand?

Character: Ok, so you know that [insert interminable amount of words describing something the other person just said they know about]. 

That's not how conversations work. That's not how any of this works. Also, shadowy figures tend to have a very defined purpose in their interrogations (in my experience as a jr. member of the Illuminati, anyway). This one seems to act as a therapist half the time, asking the characters to tell them all about their dating lives and personal neuroses. And, inexplicably, they do it. Nothing makes sense, goodbye cruel world.

Finally, we come to the plot holes. Spoilers ahead, if you care (by now it should be clear that you shouldn't, but you do you). To "drive" the robot you need to have legs with backward knees (I don't know, people, I'm just the messenger here). Anyway, our (supposedly) charming Francophone friend gets hit by a car due to some romantic drama that's absolutely not worth discussing. When the doctor says he's going to amputate his legs and give him prosthetics, Shadowy Figure sees an opportunity: he forces the doctor to save the legs, but rebuild them with...wait for it...knees that can go backwards. The doctor says it can't be done! He says the man will face a lifetime of agony! But Shadowy Figure insists.

Say it with me now: WHY. WOULDN'T. YOU. JUST. HAVE. THE PROSTHETIC. LEGS. GO BACKWARDS. YOUR PROBLEM IS ALREADY SOLVED.

I hated this book. I'm sorry, Mr. Neuvel, I guess it got kind of personal there for a minute. But you're the one who wrote yourself into this trainwreck in the first place. Backwards fuckin' knees. Oh, and of course it's the first book in a trilogy. Smdh. 

0 successful attempts to picture how this weird-ass giant alien robot would look or move with those stupid backwards knees out of 5. 

*Yeah, that's right. I'm dictating this to my husband who now types for me. He is also very handsome and strong. Much better than all of her, I mean my, ex-boyfriends. 

**It's a job. Apparently. Take it up with Dan Brown. 

Speed Round: The Beautiful Bureaucrat, You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine, I'm Thinking Of Ending Things, Like a Velvet Glove Cast in Iron

Let's call this what it is: "Speed Round special edition: WEIRD AF books." In my (failed) effort to read more in 2016 than I did in 2015, I shoved a whole lot of weird-ass fiction into my brain in December. Let the cleansing begin — I pass the weirdness onto you, so that I may emerge unscathed.

The Beautiful Bureaucrat, by Helen Phillips. Josephine got a new job. She sits all day in a windowless office entering ID numbers into a database. She isn't supposed to ask questions, but it's hard not to wonder... 

How to describe this one? It's...wholesome? It's weird and wholesome. There are stakes here, and there are some dark moments. What's scarier than data-entry, you know? But Phillips treats Josephine with care and we're right there with her, pondering her circumstances with wide-eyed wonder. 

4 breath mints out of 5. 

You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine, by Alexandra Kleeman. This one received a ton of acclaim when it came out in 2015. And if I had actually read any of those reviews, I would have known to avoid it: "....madly entertaining debut novel reminiscent of The Crying of Lot 49....at once a missing-person mystery, an exorcism of modern culture, and a wholly singular vision of contemporary womanhood from a terrifying and often funny voice of a new generation." 
Hoo boy. First of all, I hate Thomas Pynchon. If there is a hell, it is me trapped in a library full of books but then I realize they are all copies of The Crying of Lot 49.* Secondly, read that description and tell me it does not sound like something Hannah Horvath might have written. I love GIRLS as much as the next hot-blooded millennial but  — hell to the no. Oh, you want plot details? There's a weird roommate, some anorexia, an evil cupcake company/cult...and a whole lot of VERY IMPORTANT thoughts and feelings (emphasis very much not mine). 

1 evil cupcake out of 5. Mmmm...evil cupcakes. 

I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid. This reads like the novelization of the trailer for the new M. Night Shyamalan movie. I'd say it's the novelization of the movie but it ain't that long. Also I haven't seen it. Anyway....here's a tip — mental illness isn't some wild 'get out of plot' free card. The blurb says this book "explores the depths of the human psyche, questioning consciousness, free will, the value of relationships, fear, and the limitations of solitude." Sure does — but only because it makes you wonder about the psyche of an author who would release such a muddy mess upon the world. You ok hun? I read a few reviews where people just said they didn't understand the book at all, but once they read it for a second time, they "got it." Life's too short. YOLO. P.S. There's nothing to get. 

1 bad road trip with a guy explaining the plot of the Village to you for hours out of 5. 

Like a Velvet Glove Cast in Iron, by Daniel Clowes. We found it, everyone. We found the weirdest book in the world. And if comes with pictures, the better to haunt your dreams. This thing is like kombucha. I hated it when I first tried it. It was funky, and there was fucking shit floating in it that disturbed me. The mother? The fuck is that nightmare? But after a few sips, I was forced to acknowledge that its vinegar tang was oddly refreshing. And after a trying it a few more times, I started to believe that it might even be...good for me?** There are no rules, and Clowes' sparse drawing style makes the unnerving details he does add feel lurid and shocking. I know there is a snuff film and a guy with shrimp tails for eyes in the book but honestly the dog with no orifices (that people feed with a syringe ‼️ ) was the worst for me. *Shudder.* I was grossed out, I was disturbed, I was very confused...but I haven't stopped thinking about it! In a world of ephemeral, cotton-candy-quirkiness, I have to give it up for the truly WTF insanity out there. Kind of. 

2.5 realizations that you'll never be able to unsee that fucked-up dog out of 5. 

Cheers to the weird, my friends. 🍻  

*And then I see one book spine that looks different but I pull it out and it's Atlas Shrugged. NOOOOOOOO!!!! 

**I know it's probably just earthy soda pop. But it feels like it might be, you know? If you Tweet me some article about the hidden dangers of kombucha I will block you; you've been warned. 

Speed Round: The Fireman, The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo, Larose, Vinegar Girl, Everything Everything

Speed 👏  round 👏  ! My friends, we have the highest of highs — and the lowest of lows. Such is life, as the most recent presidential election has taught us. So before you start rereading Harry Potter looking for clues on dealing with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, here are some other books to embrace...and a few to avoid. 

The Fireman, by Joe Hill. Oh, Joe. I wanted to love it. His short stories are fan-fucking-tastic, but this 700+ page tome gave him more than enough rope to hang himself with. The plot starts with a bang, almost literally — a virus is causing people to suddenly burst into flames. But, much like lighting a fart on fire,* the flame quickly dwindles and you're just left with a stench. The characters are exceedingly dull and the romance is cringe-worthy. Also, there's this unforgivable sentence (no context needed, trust me) : " 'I don't think it's any accident that a slice of pie comes in the exact same shape as a slice of pussy," Allie said.' " DOES IT, ALLIE? 🤔  

1 very confused baker out of 5.

The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo, by Amy Schumer. I guess Amy Schumer is an acquired taste. If you have to acquire a taste for smart, funny, honest, relatable — you know what, never mind, fuck you if you don't like Amy Schumer. I read this book in a few hours, not because it was light and fluffy, but because it was like catching up with a friend. Let's get pizza and beers, Amy.

4 terrifying stuffed animals out of 5.

Larose, by Louise Erdrich. We need more writers like Louise Erdrich. This story is so full of humanity. You can't read a sentence without being reminded of all the beautiful messes we make. It's about a couple whose 5-year old son is accidentally shot and killed by a hunter. To make amends, the hunter and his wife give them their 5-year old son, Larose. Come for the intriguing and intense plot, leave with all the feels.

4.5 boxes of tissues out of 5.

Vinegar Girl, by Anne Tyler.  This is a retelling of the Taming of the Shrew. But, maybe, in 2016, we can make a collective decision to let shrews be shrews? Shakespeare shmakespeare, the dude could spit some rhymes but let's face it — this plot is a dud. Anne Tyler, you got that Pulitzer money! You don't have to take on projects like this! Willy Shakes is dead and gone, baby! Put your feet up, crack a beer, and toast the shrews. We've all got better shit to do. 

0 high school drama productions out of 5.

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Everything, Everything, by Nicola Yoon. I maybe need to just stop reading any YA, no matter how effusively praised. I was a young adult once: we have terrible taste. I wore low-rise jeans! I thought body glitter was an acceptable highlight! While not outright offensive like many "girl meets boy, girl's world suddenly has more colors in it" stories, this is pretty much...that. In one case literally that, when the cute boy next door inspires our milquetoast heroine to branch out from basic white and order a rainbow of cotton t-shirts. Oh, and there is a medical mystery subplot and a plot twist you can see coming a mile away. But more importantly, major points lost for a description of an alcoholic father getting plastered by mixing whiskey, gin, AND vodka. That's something you can only get away with when you're writing for the under-21 crowd.

 1.5 Munchausen mommies out of 5 (spoiler alert, I guess? Who cares).

I've been reading a lot these days, and not just to hit my goal for the year. Self-care, people. Even a bad book gives me something to roll around in my brain. Take the time to do the things that make you happy to be in this wild world. Take care of yourself so you can take care of the people you love — and the people who need your love.

*I've never done it, I swear — I just have four brothers. 

Fates and Furies

If you've been following my blog for awhile (HI MOM!*), you know I can struggle with contemporary fiction. Books that focus on sad people, doing sad things. Honestly, often they just bum me the fuck out. You can only watch someone make all the wrong decisions for so long before you have to look away. Save that shit for an acclaimed cable television drama because I need 16 months off between seasons, okay? I get that stories need conflict, but I've been burned too many times. So I try to give books that seem like they might take the "no pain, no gain, no Pulitzer" approach a wide berth. 

However, I've recently realized that there is a genre within the genre that I'm super into. Let's call it the secret lives of wives. I'm not talking about, "she's fucking the pool boy, you IDIOT!" telenovela drama. I watch the Real Housewives, so I can get that kind of wig-snatching goodness without expending any brain power. I'm talking about the everyday, "I'm in this life and these are my feels," thoughts. What they've got going on in between the tryst and the wig-snatch.**

Marriage is so individual and unknowable, until you're in it. Not to get too personal, but I probably spend half my time thinking a) weird thoughts about my marriage and b) wondering if anyone else has these odd, maybe-messed-up-but-probably-okay thoughts.*** Rinse and repeat. Literature that promises to offer a modern, realistic woman's perspective on a relationship that, for better or for worse, can often define your adult life, has a certain appeal. I want a catalog of all the in betweens. I want to flip through it, and underline bits, and squint and roll my eyes and slip my own in betweens, in between. 

Anyway...all that to say, I really liked Fates and Furies. Hey, look, this is a book review blog after all! In the first half, we meet Lotto. Golden child. Absurd name. His emotional flailing and floundering defines the first half of the novel, as we watch him flutter from teenage ne'er-do-well to college charmer. I use that verb deliberately: he gives the impression of someone skimming the surface, alighting where they want and leaving ripples in their wake. He meets Mathilde. They marry young. He bumbles and blusters. Professional triumphs and tribulations, a house is purchased, a dog is procured. A life is lived. Mathilde's orbit is the closest, but like everyone else in his life, she orbits a sun made of Lotto's decisions and desires.  

Lauren Groff is an exceptional writer, but if the book had ended there I probably wouldn't be writing this. But, oh! The second half. Mathilde laid bare. Her orbit so different from what we assumed; criss-crossing the heavens while Lotto hangs there ponderously, trapped by his own gravity. Of course, there are scandals and manipulations and some truly soap opera-level plot twists. Europe is involved! You know it's literature-worthy drama when Europe comes into play. So classy. But it's Mathilde's "in between" thoughts that shine. They're hard and unflinching. Sometimes funny. They reveal a fierce love, and an even fiercer anger. Her half of the book is called "furies," after all. 

For many, this book is probably perfectly balanced. A look at a relationship from two sides. For me; however, the thrill was in how unbalanced it felt. We're safe on the shore with Lotto until Mathilde beckons, and suddenly, we're in over our heads. Oh dear. Now I've definitely revealed too much, haven't I? 

It's worth noting that the critic at the New Yorker had the complete opposite reaction to this book, celebrating the first half while condemning the second. To each their own, I suppose, which is a lesson for every relationship. But I'd rather be slumming it in the dark with the secret lives of wives than basking in the light with the likes of Lotto. 

4 commercials where the husband fucks up something simple like using paper towels and the woman looks at the camera with unsmiling eyes and a tight grin like "this is my life" out of 5. 

*jk, jk, she's got better things to do 

**Between a Tryst and a Wig-Snatch, my memoir, coming in 2018 from HarperCollins

***The rest of the time I'm thinking about a) what I ate earlier today and b) what I'm going to eat later. What am I going to eat later? 

Top 5: Stephen King Short Stories

Our relationship has hit a few speed bumps lately (I blame Bill Hodges, the dull as dishwater depressed detective), but there's no denying that Stephen King is speaking to me when he addresses his "Constant reader." I've spent twenty years (!) reading his work. If you want to get *serious* about King I definitely recommend The Dark Tower, The Stand, and IT. But that's a lot of fucking pages filled with a lot of weird-ass shit to commit to. Luckily, King is also an O.Henry certified master of the short story game. So if you're interested in a quickie, here's where I'd start. Each story is ranked on a scariness scale of 1 to 5 Pennywises. 

5. Beachworld (1985, collected in Skeleton Crew)

What could be so terrifying about sand? Turns out: a lot. This dark science-fiction story set in the far future takes the "sand gets everywhere!" nuisance known to beach-goers everywhere to a disturbing conclusion. I wish King would write more spacey stuff; especially in short story form. Tommyknockers and Dreamcatcher weren't his most coherent novels but 

Scariness level: 2 Pennywises. This story is super creepy but also, just stay away from sand. Maybe it's a level 3 if you live by the beach. 

4. I am the Doorway (1971, collected in Night Shift)

Hey look at that, more spacey stuff! I likes what I likes, I guess. This is the story of a wheelchair-bound ex-astronaut who came home with some unwelcome souvenirs after a fly-by of Venus. Because it's King, it's a bit more gross-out than your typical body invasion story. Which is of course a good thing. It's also a good example of the ambiguously ominous endings he's quite fond of. Classic ominiguous King. 

3 Pennywises. Sure, you might not be going to Venus any time soon, but the squickyness of unwelcome body hitchhikers can't be rationally reasoned away. 

3. The House on Maple Street (2009, collected in Nightmares and Dreamscapes)

King is one of the few writers, in my opinion, who can beautifully capture the feeling of being a kid. Of feeling small but also sure of what's right in the world, of feeling powerless but still believing in a sense of magic. In this tale, he follows the four Burdick children who come home from vacation to a subtly changing house. Machinery is growing behind the wallpaper, and a panel appears counting down to...something. Instead of calling Angie's List to find a contractor, as an adult might do, the kids see it as an opportunity to make some overdue changes to their family situation. Hi-jinks! Also, this story was inspired by a Chris Van Allsburg picture, which is rad. 

1 Pennywise. There's suspense, but nothing too freaky-deaky. Relatively...

2. Mrs. Todd's Shortcut (1984, collected in Skeleton Crew)

I want to be Mrs. Todd. In her cute roadster, the wind in her hair, finding shortcuts that shouldn't exist. Parallel universes and all. King has definitely written a few problematic/eye-roll worthy women in his time, but Mrs. Todd is proof that he can write subtle, layered female characters. He frequently uses them to address themes of freedom and independence. Love interests aren't his strong suit but when his women stand alone, they often shine. Hmm, is there a life lesson in there? 🤔

1 Pennywise. Not really scary unless you get anxious just thinking about going off-road. Buckle up!

1. A Good Marriage (2010, collected in Full Dark, No Stars)

Speaking of female characters...so much of King's best writing has nothing to do with the supernatural. The world is pretty dark without ghosts, anyway. In this harrowing, inspired-by-real-events-tale, a suburban housewife has to confront her husband's secret. And we're not talking like, an Ashley Madison account, basic mid-life crisis-type level betrayal. This was made into a mediocre movie; which was predictable because it's such an internal story, told through Darcy's point-of-view as her world is flipped upside-down. It invites the reader to grapple and plot alongside her: What would you do? How would you do it? And, most difficult to answer, I think: would you go back, to before, if you could?

5 Pennywises! Real-life is always the scariest shit, that's why we have to read about supernatural killer clowns to get away from it all. 

 

Speed Round: The Library at Mt. Char, The Teleportation Accident, The Traitor Baru Cormorant, Slade House

I been reading. I been reading. I get filthy when that fiction get into me. 

That's still a relevant song, right? Or do you kids only care about Becky with the Good Hair these days? Ah, fuck it. The best part about being in your thirties is being able to admit you don't care about being WITH IT. But if there are any "youths" who still care about reading, let them know I got a fresh and tasty round of speed reviews for y'all 💁 👇

 

The Library at Mt.Char, by Scott Hawkins. Hoo boy. If you liked Gaiman's American Gods but wished it was a *little* more fucked up, this is the one for you. It tickled that part of my lizard-brain that craves the original, the weird, and the wonderfully dark. Shades of Tim Powers in the twisty, breezy plot that somehow comes together at the end in a way that makes you giggle with glee. There were some very vivid passages featuring unspeakable violence, but done in a...fun, light-hearted way? Is that possible? Is that politically correct? Do you want to read about a man in a pink tutu ripping someone's intestines out? I would normally answer no to those questions, but I fucking loved this book. SWEARS! SO EDGY! YOU KIDS LOVE THAT RIGHT??? 4 kidnapped lions out of 5. 

 

The Teleportation Accident, by Ned Beauman. The protagonist of this book is a whiny white guy who is pissed off because he can't get laid. An INCEL! So obviously I hated it, because #YesAllMen, #NiceGuysofTinder etc, etc. Right? Wrong! Beauman's writing is so lyrical and witty that you can overlook the fact that his characters are complete twats. There's also a scene with fake monkey balls made of lychees that paints a pretty amazing picture. I'll carry it in my heart for always. Not to mention trash-talk about Bertolt Brecht, a sprinkle of Lovecraftian lore and the aforementioned teleportation accident. Ignore the reviewers who say Beauman's prose styling is Pynchon-est, because I hate Pynchon. He was never this fun. 4 antique Troodonian skeletons out of 5. 

 

The Traitor Baru Cormorant, by Seth Dickinson. This was the first book I picked up after I overdosed on Nice Guy Sci-Fi. A female protagonist! An original story! A plot with a social conscious! No space battles or explosions! Less Michael Bay, more woke bae, is what I'm saying. And it was...fine. It was fine. I wanted to love it, but parts were surprisingly dense. I still need some fantasy in my fantasy, you feel me? I guess when your main character is basically a secretary of the treasury you have to spend some time talking about trade deals and economic policies but dude — I read Hamilton! 700+ pages but alongside the establishment of a national bank he threw us some steamy infidelity and a few duels, you know? By the time the plot came to an end, I was too tied up in fiduciary fine print to care that much. 3 instances of furrowing your brow trying to remember what a "tariff" is out of 5. 

 

Slade House, by David Mitchell. This is the novel that David Mitchell teased us with on Twitter. David, you sly minx, you. It's a pretty classic haunted house story, told across several time periods. Because it was written by David Mitchell I could throw things like "elevated," "witty," "goes down like a buttery fine wine," around in this review because Jesus H. Christ, is there anything this man can't write? I think I'd read his grocery list, if he'd let me. Slade House should be made into a creepy, funny miniseries on the bee bee cee starring Gillian Anderson and...whoever else, it doesn't matter once you have Gillian Anderson, really, does it? My rating is perhaps a wee bit lower than my effusive praise would suggest, but only because this trifle of a novel whetted my appetite for something a bit heavier and more substantial from Mr. Mitchell. Gimme more, gimme gimme more (another super relevant song reference. Jane, you're killing it). 3.5 weird smelling occult candles out of 5. 

 

P.S. While I was reading this post over (yes, I edit myself! I know, it's hard to believe...), I realized I reviewed four books by white dudes. THIS BLOG POST COULD GO ON ALLMALESPANEL.TUMBLR.COM. Fuck! One mention of Gillian Anderson and a couple Beyonce references can't make up for that. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, so I'll make sure to bring some kick-ass lady and POC voices to this blog in the near future. The patriarchy is on watch. 👀

Without You, There is No Us and Nothing to Envy: A North Korean Two-fer

🙋🏼 Hello, my name is Jane and I'm addicted to reading about the Democratic People's Republic of Korea AKA North Korea AKA the personal playground of this jolly motherfucker. 

Non-fiction that's so absurd, it reads like fiction. A society so stuck in the past, it looks like a dystopian future. North Korea is full of these contrasts. Reading about them makes me feel unmoored. The decisions that tore apart the Korean peninsula and its families were so arbitrary and audacious. There but for the grace of God/Gaia/Ganesh/whatever go we, y'all. 

Suki Kim's book is interesting. But it's hard to write about North Korea without being interesting. We see so little, and what we see is so controlled, that a single unfiltered Tweet can feel like a Pulitzer-worthy scoop. Kim's book is a memoir about her time as an English teacher in the DPRK, and as such, its primary focus is on her. There's nothing wrong with that. But, in my Pyong-sessed state of mind, it was hard to not wish for more details and insights into the lives of her students, the sons of North Korea's elite families. You left a lover behind in Brooklyn. We get it. That's a better plot point for an episode of GIRLS. Tell me more about how your students don't understand the concept of a job interview! Talk to me about the people having lunch in the middle of an abandoned highway!*

Demick's book is based on interviews she had with defectors. It's one of the few books that gives us a glimpse into the everyday lives of ordinary North Koreans: school teachers, doctors, transportation workers, students, and propagandists (<- a legit job title in the DPRK). Ordinary is a poorly-chosen word, I suppose, since all of Demick's subjects successfully defected. Around 24 million people live in North Korea, yet only ~1000 a year make it out, often taking a circuitous and arduous route through China. The DMZ ain't no joke. So let's say Demick is focused on an extraordinary subset of ordinary citizens. She skillfully weaves their stories together and touches on every aspect of life: education, sex and marriage, entertainment and leisure, employment, "shopping,"** and more.

Maybe that's the biggest revelation. The people in North Korea are...regular people.  In the news, the country is synonymous with the images and actions of its leader. Kim Jong Un (and his father and grandfather before him) IS the DPRK. That perspective is mirrored within North Korea, as well:  Suki Kim's book title, "Without You, There is No Us," comes from a song that proclaims the indivisibility of the motherland from the father. Demick's book, with its focus on the intimate details of her subjects' lives, is a slap in the face of a Dear Leader whose power stems from silencing voices. So pick up a book, and start listening. Because fuck this guy. 

Without You, There is No Us: 2 illicit showings of Harry Potter out of 5. 

Nothing to Envy: 4 red scarves made of vinylon out of 5. 

*Also, stop saying "lover." Gross.  

** Speaking of shopping, the grocery stores with fake plastic fruit that The Interview uses as a plot point REALLY EXIST. STRANGER THAN FICTION, PEOPLE.