[TW for sexual assault & domestic abuse.] Meredith Russo has been credibly accused of raping and abusing her spouse, a crime she has seemingly confess[TW for sexual assault & domestic abuse.] Meredith Russo has been credibly accused of raping and abusing her spouse, a crime she has seemingly confessed to over email yet publicly denied. Here are twosources (both strike fairly bad tones). You can also find her booking information. She has stated this is all a lie by her ex on twitter. It should be noted that her ex identifies as nonbinary and seems to indicate in the first one they do not want this information weaponized by terfs. Here is their go fund me. I do not think rape and domestic abuse are forgivable crimes, generally believe in believing the victim, and would encourage all of you to think about who you are supporting. ...more
“Mother must be dying.” “Stop trying to cheer me up.”
Now that, my friends, is what we in the business call a wild ride. This is a ridiculou
“Mother must be dying.” “Stop trying to cheer me up.”
Now that, my friends, is what we in the business call a wild ride. This is a ridiculous 1970s soap opera that I could not help but enjoy, but I think above all else, it made me hunger on a deep level for a San Francisco I’ve never experienced.
Well. We’ll talk about that in a little while. For now, let’s just say this: Tales of the City is a wild ride from start to finish. On both the level of “this is fucking hilarious” and “holy shit, that was a plot twist”. It’s like someone combined Revenge, the 2012 television show, with The Office. It made me feel like I was on crack. I loved it.
“Finally, she looks at him intently and says, in a voice fraught with meaning, ‘which do you think you’d prefer, Rich? S or M?’” “And?” “He thought it was something to put on the hamburger.”
The tone of these is so delightfully absurdist — you have to lean into the humor a bit and suspend your disbelief to get to the good bits. Actually, it took me a while to get that the chapters were being absurd on purpose (okay, so I received these without context).
Some highlights of the admittedly ridiculous character cast include: →Mary Ann, a San Francisco newbie trying to make it but making bad romantic decisions along the way. Often dumb but occasionally iconic. →Mona, Mary Ann’s first friend when she comes to town. Best friend to Michael. Excellent person with some drug issues. →Michael, a gay icon, Mona’s best friend and second roommate. Constantly looking for long-term love but hasn’t found it yet. →Anna Madrigal, landlord to Mona and later Mary Ann and Michael. Mentor type. Some secrets of her own. →Beachamp, rich and seemingly happy husband to DeDe. Secretly dissatisfied. Sort of a dirtbag. →DeDe, rich daughter of a richer man. Not always the smartest. →Edgar, dissatisfied dying man trying to come to terms with a wasted life via his new friendship with a certain landlord. Father to Dede and husband to Frannie. →Brian, disaster and a half. Token heterosexual. One-time lover to Mary Ann. →Jon, possible lover to Michael. Gynecologist. →Dorothea, black lesbian back in town to get back her old lover. →Vincent, depressed crisis hotline operator whose wife has left him to join the Israeli army. →Norman, older man living on the top floor. Maybe a few secrets.
I think in basically any other book, this character cast would’ve been absurd, but in this book, they feel perfectly believable. I love how all of the characters are written as both flawed and at times selfish but still generally endearing. And the comics are not without their moments of genuine heart: the relationship between Anna and Edgar is honestly really wonderful and tender, and the friendship between Mona and Michael is — honest to god — peak mlm/wlw solidarity. (You will not be surprised to know they were my favorites.)
Due to the serial format, these issues often feel very distinct, at times dealing with very different characters and themes. But I definitely had some favorite scenes and plotlines.
➽Here are some of my book highlights (light spoilers only): →Anna giving Mary Ann a joint as a welcome to San Francisco gift →Michael’s meet-cute with Jon, which takes place at a skating rink after he breaks his nose trying to subtly skate up next to him →when a feminist talking about rape shows up at Dede’s country club and a minor character says delightedly “this is better than when they brought the bulldyke in!” →the scene in which Brian is trying to sleep with a woman who thinks he’s gay and trying to sleep with women to repress it, and who then, when he says he’s not gay, says clinically “You must not be in touch with your body” and walks out. an ally →when Michael answers a call from Mary Ann’s mom and her mom is scandalized about the strange man at her apartment and she then has to tell her mother about the existence of gay people →Mary Ann getting hired at a crisis hotline, accidentally making a pun about playing it by ear, and then contemplating biting her own tongue off →the scene in which Frannie is unloading all her problems but cutting it with “no, but I wouldn’t want to burden you, darling” and you think it’s like, to a friend, and it’s to her fucking dog →WHEN MICHAEL’S PARENTS FIND LUBE IN HIS FUCKING REFRIGERATOR →when Brian asks Michael to go cruising with him and Michael is like… why are straight people like this but then does it anyway. relatable content from 1978 →the guy who photocopied his dick and used the enlarger
And before I get serious, a brief spoiler section: about a bicon:(view spoiler)[Listen, from the very first page, Mona had bi energy. More importantly her and Michael were at PEAK mlm/wlw solidarity and I literally typed in my review notes “I know she’s straight but this is mlm/wlw solidarity at its finest” and then it WAS. actually I think the book isn’t really taking a position on her sexuality (she actually says she’d prefer a long term friendship to having a lover at one point and i was like okay!! !! ! ! ! ! legend ! ! ! !!). it’s just as long as we acknowledge that Mona is in no way a heterosexual we’re good (hide spoiler)] it’s Michael Sad hours, really no spoilers just a rant:(view spoiler)[I actually absolutely love the way Michael is written. because this portrayal of the gay scene is clearly a reflection of promiscuity being really mainstream at that time, a hard-earned freedom. but the narrative still makes it so clear that he just… genuinely wants love? (Michael’s energy in this is the same as my energy when I tweet about wanting a gf every day.) but in all reality, it’s a wonderfully subtle arc and the scene with his parents made me die inside just a little bit. (hide spoiler)] some incredible plot twists:(view spoiler)[okay holy SHIT the minor reveals of characters being involved with each other? INCREDIBLE. I LOVED the way the book did the Mona/Dor reveal, that’s a built reveal babes. the revelation about BEAUCHAMP? when he’s in the bathhouse and Jon sees him? absurd. the fucking Norman investigating Anna reveal left me shook as hell because it immediately made so much sense especially given Edgar’s earlier talk about the Madrigal’s being ridiculous!! Jon being Dede’s FUCKING gynecologist?? ? ?? ?? The thing with Lexy and Norman was awful :(( I loved connecting the dots. the point is I was left shook by so much of this (hide spoiler)] some less incredible plot twists:(view spoiler)[The only thing is that I did not like the twist about Dor, at all. I think it has some really awful connotations to have the only black character in your novel actually be white. I know it’s a soap opera from 1970 but this made me super mad and is honestly the only reason I'm even tempted to not give this a five. (hide spoiler)]
The thing is, I said I was going to get serious, and there’s something I need to say. Conservatives have long loathed it as the axis of liberal politics and political correctness, but now progressives are carping, too. They mourn it for what has been lost, a city that long welcomed everyone and has been altered by an earthquake of wealth. -from Washington Post's How San Francisco Broke America’s Heart I grew up 10 miles south of San Francisco — at the time of writing this, I'm leaving for college in almost exactly a week — with a mother who works as an opera singer up in the city. When I was eight, I knew without a doubt that as soon as I left for college, my mother would be selling our house in favor of a nice apartment near SF opera, as most of her friends had. Ten years later, the idea itself is ludicrous. The money we would receive for selling our (fairly nice) house wouldn't pay rent on anything but a studio. Many of my mother's friends have moved to Oakland, taking long commutes simply to arrive. One of my best friends lives with her family in Brentwood, an area past Oakland and two hours from San Francisco — her mom works a job in Woodside so she can attend a private school in the Bay Area.
I grew up knowing San Francisco as a place of gay culture and a thriving arts scene — a place with a large homeless population and some crime, but also a place where people came to be themselves. Now, I know it as a city where the culture of old residents is rapidly disappearing, replaced with the more homogenous Silicon Valley scene.
In reading this book where San Francisco is known as a weird and quirky city with a thriving gay scene, I found myself mourning for a San Francisco (and a Bay Area) I am barely old enough to have experienced, let alone to remember. I've known for years that I wanted to leave for college, but I wonder sometimes whether, thirty years earlier, I would've wanted to come back.
This book is part of a rhetorical category I like to call "attempting to make people blur labels and boundaries, but failing to realize and unlearn myThis book is part of a rhetorical category I like to call "attempting to make people blur labels and boundaries, but failing to realize and unlearn my own biases."
So there’s this quote from a lesbian lead in this book that just fucking haunts me, in which she implies that she thinks about men to finish while having sex.
‘Okay, here I go.’ Iris takes a deep breath, ‘When Stacy and I. . . when she would be, doing . . . down there . . .’ She lowered her eyes towards her lap. ‘I got it.’ ‘She was great at it, she broke my heart, but she was great at that . . . but I couldn’t finish, you know . . .’ ‘I got it.’ ‘. . . I couldn’t finish unless I imagined a boy was . . .’ Iris did this tiny thrust, with her tiny giggle, ‘ . . .you know . . .” ‘I know.’
May I just ask, why, as a 30-something man, you would decide it was appropriate to write about the teen lesbian character in your book only finding sexual pleasure through fantasizing about a man? May I also ask why it is so hard to accept that some girls possibly just... don't like men? (Iris, as may not be surprising to any sapphics in the audience, is the only lesbian character in the novel, so this can very easily be seen as a representation of all lesbians, and thus enforce an already-existing stereotype.) We could also talk about the gender binary of this. And probably at some point ask, why?
Because I think the point of this conversation is to say that no one is truly fully gay. Which, even if true, is besides the point when we’re talking about queer identity. Why is it so bothersome about certain people only dating people of the same gender? Even if you deeply believe all women are attracted to men on some level, how exactly is it hurting you for them to find happiness with women?
The other point of this book seems to be that labels are false gods. With the understanding that I do think sometimes within the community certain people can get too hung up on labeling our sexuality down to the smallest point and more importantly, we often fail to recognize that being a broad community with different experiences is actually what binds us, I don’t agree with how this book does it.
For me, labeling myself as a lesbian, or as sapphic, or as a dyke, is empowering. It’s saying that I don’t conform to norms in a certain way; it’s acknowledging that I look at the world differently because I am attracted to women, and it’s finding solidarity with other people who feel the same way. For others, labeling themselves as bisexual, or as nonbinary, or as trans, is exactly the same thing. It’s finding a way of putting into words something about ourselves that society as a whole at times alienates.
I think this is what people fail to understand. Labels are used by some people as restrictions on identity. They are used by most queer / lgbtq people as a way of finding community and identity in a world that desperately wants to take that away.
And it’s so sad to me that a book about two mga and (possibly) nonbinary characters falling in love was written with this in mind. Because love between queer people is so fundamentally about finding love with someone who sees you the way you are, and that is so wonderful, and I deeply resent that a book which tries to lean into that instead leans away.
“We were gender and sexually fluid before it was cool because we didn’t do it to be cool – we did it to be who we truly are.”
Here’s an edited version. “We were gender and sexually fluid before it was cool because we didn’t do it to be cool – we did it to be who we truly are it’s quite literally never been cool and I, as a man who apparently believes that queer kids are doing it to be cool, should not have written a book about two mga and/or nonbinary teens falling in love before realizing the dehumanizing nature with which I conceptualize other mga, nonbinary people, and the way in which I perceive the modern-day queer community as evil demons forcing everyone into boxes, which I am not aware will enforce the tendency of many, many straight people to perceive all queer people as such.”
TL;DR: If I never again read a man trying to be deep by criticizing the exclusivity of the lgbtq community for an hour straight, but actually just enforcing an “everybody’s-secretly-bi-but-the-bi-label-is-bad, lesbians are fake because every woman wants to fuck men, The Gays Are Such Evil Regressive Label Policers, labels are awful and restrict you so I’ll erase nonbinary labels and mga labels to fit my narrative of how there are no labels for the in-between” view of things, I will feel a lot better about the world.
This is a strange and very wonderful book about making clocks, the future, and also love in the 1850s.
The Watchmaker of Filigree Street follows ThaniThis is a strange and very wonderful book about making clocks, the future, and also love in the 1850s.
The Watchmaker of Filigree Street follows Thaniel, a local clerk who finds a watch on his person. When this watch alerts him of a bomb about to go off, his suspicions lead him to Mori, a Japanese clockmaker who is strangely kind to him.
Pretty cool setup, right? We don’t get a strong sense of Thaniel right off the bat; Mori, meanwhile, comes off as ambiguous but always strangely likeable. There is also another character, Grace, who shows up and slowly becomes a part of the book’s narrative. It is weird, and atmospheric, and very interesting to see the cogs turn.
The thing is that there is very little I can say about this book without at least vague spoilers, because the entire thing is a bit of a let’s-go-in-and-fuck-with-your-head-a-bit. So. If you’re okay with a spoiler for fifty pages in, you can continue this review.
We get the sense very early on that (view spoiler)[Mori can sense the future, (hide spoiler)] simply by an amalgation of his clear knowledge of the watch and his actions in the past Japan-chapters. And I absolutely loved how the author played with this power as something fallible. (view spoiler)[Mori can predict friendships far into the future, but cannot detect based on the fall of a coin. There’s a tidbit about Mori’s accent that I really loved – he predicts that he won’t be seeing Thaniel very much anymore, and so his English accent loses its definition. (hide spoiler)] This definition becomes one of the main conflicts of the book and is played with an extremely deft hand.
There is also a romance, and I want to talk about something here. At one point in the book, Thaniel participates in a marriage of convenience to Grace, and when he alerts Mori of this, he thinks to himself that he is stealing years of their strangely-close-roommates relationship from him. At this point in the book they’re not in any type of relationship; they’re simply living together, but he still feels as if he has lost something in giving up this living arrangement.
I’ve brought this up before, but I think there’s something unbearably tender about loving someone so deeply as a best friend that you don’t notice your feelings have turned romantic. With being queer comes a lack of ability to notice the difference, sometimes, and a weird penchant for falling head over heels for friends you love too much to ever ask or expect anything from. It was incredible to see that explored so explicitly.
While the narrative does at times explicitly challenge racism against Japanese characters, some xenophobia within the narrative goes unchallenged; an off-color remark about kimonos is perhaps realistic for a white character in 1800s Britain, but sort of in bad taste to go uncriticized. The treatment of lady suffragettes also struck me as odd; they are treated by Grace like idiots, and the narrative does not implicitly criticize this. Grace is not on any level written to be a voice of reason within the narrative, but I did wonder about the narrative purpose of these bits.
On the whole, however, I thought this was a fun and very engaging ride, and would love to read more. I honestly am not sure how to sum up why I liked this so much – it’s a book about the conflict between fate and chance, and also an imaginative clockwork fantasy, and also somewhat of a mystery, and also very Tender love story, and the finale is... Wild, and I honestly just really enjoyed this.
YA contemporary publisher, staring down his glasses at a sea of editors: so what’s big and new in this genre? what haven’t we done before?
YA contemporYA contemporary publisher, staring down his glasses at a sea of editors: so what’s big and new in this genre? what haven’t we done before?
YA contemporary editor, tentatively raising his hand: maybe a book about... a girl with a chronic illness that will make her die, but only under certain circumstances. her life is still really full, but there’s NO LOVE in it, and since love is more important than your actual life, she meets a really hot boy and then she dies because Love is the most important thing? we can make side conflicts out of her high school archnemesis, who someone calls a “whore” in literally the speech they make to her as she’s dying, and maybe her dad’s perfectly reasonable but ultimately paranoid worries for her safety!
YA contemporary publisher: Ricky you goddamn genius. here are my keys. go into my house and fuck my wife
[i mean it’s certainly easy to read but y’all... for real]...more
From 1885 to 1908, an area in Africa now known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo, then under the rule of King Leopold II of Belgium, experiencedFrom 1885 to 1908, an area in Africa now known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo, then under the rule of King Leopold II of Belgium, experienced an intense genocide. Through the Red Rubber system, the people of the Congo were essentially enslaved to harvest rubber. Those who failed to collect enough rubber had their hands chopped off. Some died from disease brought on by the terrible conditions, while others were just flat-out murdered. It is estimated that around three to thirteen million people died between 1885 and 1908, perhaps 25 to 50 percent of the total population. By the end of this period, the Congo, which just a 100 years ago had hosted the expansive and successful Kongo Empire, had seen its natural resources destroyed, its people mutilated, and its entire society changed forever.
The negative legacy of colonialism is strong throughout Africa and across the world, but the Congo is one of the countries that suffered most. This is a horrifying, disgusting legacy. And one that this book does not on any level respect.
On the surface, this book can be read as anti-colonialist, a narrative that decries the brutality with which King Leopold II and other rulers allowed African people to be treated. This reading is comforting to us. It feels right. How can we read of their deaths and not feel ashamed? How can we see the heads of so-called rebels on pikes and not find ourselves filled with horror? How can we read a scene in which people walk in a chain gang and not find our deepest sympathies with them? How could Conrad not have felt the same?
But I do not believe that is the intent, or, to be quite honest, an accurate reading of the narrative of this book. Conrad’s descriptions and depictions of black people are dehumanizing to their core. No black character in this book feels real, feels like a person we may empathize with and care for. It is in the descriptions of Kurtz’s black mistress, of the slave-boy whose only contribution to the narrative is the line “Mistah Kutz, he dead” - Conrad does not share our empathies. Our horror at their fate and in their suffering is our own, not the narrators.
The thing about this book is that it’s not a criticism of colonialism, and while reading it as such feels viable on the surface, looking deeper into the narrative makes this book feel odder and odder. This book is a look at the depth of human evil and how that can be brought out when society breaks down. Notice the end of that sentence? Because the reason Africa is the subject of this book is because this narrative fundamentally believes that Africa is a primitive, uncivilized, immoral landscape. Which I find to be an inaccurate and frankly immoral view of Africa. The historical record of our time shows that pre-Colonial (and pre-slave trade) African civilization was filled with the same life as European civilizations, and populated by strong kingdoms. Conrad emphatically believes otherwise. And while I am willing to understand on some level that this was an ingrained belief of European colonists, this book pushes this message to a very high degree - it’s irrevocably tied to the message of the book - that I found impossible to ignore.
Yes, the idea is also pushed that the people of Europe are really no different from the people of the Congo. I am fully aware that Joseph Conrad is getting at the idea that none of us are so evolved and none of us are so civilized ourselves and white society cannot put itself totally above others. Conrad is explicitly attempting to put black people and white people on an equal level of brutality. But this narrative is still fundamentally flawed. The white characters in this book are evil colonists, but they are depicted as people. The black characters of this book are “savages.” They are rebels. At best, they are the helmsman, unnamed in his own narrative and dying ten pages in. At worst, they are literal cannibals. The narrative shows a fundamental dehumanization of each “savage” character, undermining any sort of anti-colonialist or pro-African message.
And I find that fundamentally disturbing. If I cannot feel any horror within the narrative for a genocide, a time in which culture was destroyed and the environment strangled and thousands slaughtered for the profit of an empire, how can I garner anything from this book? How can I, in good conscience, enjoy or recommend this book?
I understand and appreciate that many are going to read this review and think I misread the text, because this book is a classic. I would remind them that no work of literature can be kept free from critique because it has stood the test of time. And beyond that, I do not believe this is at all a surface reading. It’s been pushed in the minds of many that reading this book as racist is a surface-level interpretation, but I genuinely believe that the racism is what you get upon close reading.
Literary analysis of racist historical works is a polarizing and complex topic, and I recognize that many will feel antagonistic towards this viewpoint. I also fully admit that this book makes good use of an unreliable narrator and is one of the most gritty classics I have read as to its depiction of the human soul, and I have nothing against those who enjoyed it. But I cannot enjoy this for those and erase the flaws. I cannot appreciate the literary merit of a book that lacks a fundamental understanding of the humanity of black people. And I'm not sure I believe that I should.
Listen, I am acknowledging this is not the best book ever written. But I am also telling you that I liked reading it a lot.It is no-holds-barred eListen, I am acknowledging this is not the best book ever written. But I am also telling you that I liked reading it a lot.It is no-holds-barred entertainment with hints of substance underneath that I’m hoping continue to develop.
Audrey Rose does autopsies. On cadavers. This is obviously not generally considered acceptable for societal women in 1888. She is kind of not the most street smart person ever and keeps doing things that are completely lacking in common sense. I do not respect or like this about her. However, I like her as a concept [and no one ever said I had to be consistent]. Despite doing Things That Anyone Could Tell You Are Not Smart, she’s an interesting character with well-done emotional arcs.
Also, I shockingly like the character of Thomas Cresswell? I think I was expecting stock asshole YA hero, but that’s not what I got. He’s not trying to be an asshole, he’s just genuinely obtuse about other people’s human emotions and other people in general. Which I like because I on some level relate. I like that the love interest has that trait, which is something I think we as a society usually frame as making a person terrible.
In terms of the feminism I was kind of… no. Full disclosure, I do think this narrative will improve in further books. But the thing is, this book is not really that feminist. I honestly think my favorite Em, who also has read this book and also really likes Thomas Cresswell, put it best [as usual] - this book was so caught up in showcasing Audrey going against societal rules that it completely ignored and overshadowed other women in the narrative, and it is a lazy decision. And as she also pointed out, Audrey’s Indian heritage is basically glossed over. I have two original thoughts. My first original thought is that this book could have discussed colonialism way more if it were willing to make Audrey Rose’s dad a more nuanced character. [This is a really boring thought that everyone has already had]. Love that the heroine is half-Indian, but like… it is the 1880s in Britain and India is being brutalized right now. That would have been nice to mention once or twice, my guy. My second thought is that Thomas Cresswell should definitely have been a girl. Because the thing about this novel is it contains approximately four main characters aside from Audrey Rose, and all of them - by nature of the narrative and what it’s saying about male privilege - need to be men. Except for Thomas. And a book about two girls kicking ass and saving London together is sort of obviously more feminist than a book about one girl and one guy. Yes, I’m saying this book would be better if it were gayer, and yes, I’m right. Thanks.
And now we get to the topic of the killer review, which you should not read about because going in without knowledge is always good! Okay, the funny thing is that enough people said the killer was obvious “from chapter two” that I was really expecting it to be even more obvious than it was, and I ended up thinking it was the most obvious candidate instead of the actual killer for like half the book, until I finally realized that was just way too obvious. So yeah, fine, the reveal is kind of easy to guess. But… I still like this killer reveal. This killer reveal is good because it doesn’t really depend on shocking you? I had heavily considered the possibility and it still just made me sad for Audrey Rose. Which I think makes for an overall stronger reveal.
Anyway, I think this review is probably over because I’m tired of writing it. But I thought this book was really entertaining. I haven't read book two yet - that might be the source of my decision on whether to recommend this - but I mean, I did enjoy it. Guiltily. So you might too.
I really wish this book had been given more editing rounds.
The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali follows Rukhsana, a gay girl who is sent to Bangladesh anI really wish this book had been given more editing rounds.
The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali follows Rukhsana, a gay girl who is sent to Bangladesh and put into an arranged marriage after being caught in kissing her girlfriend.
So despite my three-star, there were a lot of fantastic aspects of this that I’m sure many will really enjoy!! The representation of Bengali culture is #ownvoices and feels very full-of-heart. Rukhsana’s situation is handled with a good deal of care; her scenario is deeply psychologically terrifying, and I think the author does an excellent job of playing around with this.
I think the value of this book is its representation of the fact that not every Bengali person thinks the same way, as American media outlets and White American cultural centers often assume. There's an excellent discussion here of Bengali LGBTQ activism; Sohail's character is an amazing touch and made me love this book so much about halfway through ((view spoiler)[the mlm/wlw solidarity... I loved that (hide spoiler)]). And indeed, I liked the portrayal of the fact that even the thoughts of Rukhsana’s parents are influenced by their background; as fucked up as what they are doing is, they are not portrayed as evil people, simply deeply misguided ones. I loved this conversation Rukhsana has with her friends:
“Every time I say something bad about my family, it becomes more about where I come from than just regular stuff people go through with their parents.”
I also adored reading about the support of other parts of Rukhsana’s family. Aunty Meena’s lesbianism conversation was so iconic. Shaila is so supportive, and her relationship with Rukhsana is such a nice touch; I’ve never really noticed this, but I don’t think cousins are often major players in YA books? And my cousins are such a big part of my life that all of these scenes really hit. Nani, Rukhsana’s grandmother, is an utterly fantastic character; her story absolutely killed me. I genuinely think most of the shining moments of the novel originate from Rukhsana's conversations with Nani. These sections got me and got me hard.
I think my main problem with this was the actual writing was… just flat out not amazing. There is an overwhelming degree of Tell, Not Show in terms of story. Occasionally, Rukhsana changes emotions between paragraphs, making her feel like an irrational character - which she clearly isn't intended to be. This carries over to characters like Rukhsana's girlfriend, Ariana, who just doesn't have a consistent personality and as a result does not read as likable as I think she's meant to be. Plot points often feel really random and abrupt for the story due to lack of writing consistency.
But what's weird is I think I probably would have gotten past that. Sure, the writing is not great, but the story is good, I see the broad strokes of the characters, I like the themes explored. I think I would have given this a 3 1/2 and rounded up, until… the last quarter.
I am someone who really does not click with surprise twists in which you think everything is going to be good again, and then it all goes to shit. I am especially uncomfortable with how this particular twist occurs and its impact on the narrative. It’s impactful and important to point out the extent to which lgbtq people suffer under homophobia, but for me… it deeply did not work.
I think this twist… might (heavy emphasis on might) have worked if the book had been more consistent about themes, but it honestly just felt like… a really out-of-taste plot point to me. Here's an ownvoices review by user Rushda that I think says this quite well:
Though it was not there for shock value, the timing of it made it come across that way and, in my opinion, it was totally needless. It was not given adequate time and was rushed through, making it seem more like a convenient plot point for others' character development than a genuine tragedy.
The way this twist is used essentially uses gay pain, and really graphic and heavy gay pain, to make Rukhsana's parents decide homophobia is bad, actually. This is somewhat lazy and on a far more personal level, a decision I found disturbing, given the history of the trope employed.
I have issues with how we got there. But the ending made me tear up. I think the thing about this book is that it comes so close to being something genuinely revolutionary and it still... sort of is? It has something to say. It just says it in a way that is not as incredible as it could be.
TW: arranged marriage, colorism, fetishism, heavy although very good discussion and description of sexual assault, (view spoiler)[exorcism, violent hate crimes against lgbtq people, dead gay characters. (hide spoiler)]
✨Arc received from the publisher via local bookstore for an honest review. releases:January 29 2019.
The most important question on whether or not I can enjoy high fantasy, at least for now as I’m still a newby, is whether or not I can en3 1/2 stars.
The most important question on whether or not I can enjoy high fantasy, at least for now as I’m still a newby, is whether or not I can engage in the narrative. High fantasy is an enjoyable genre, but sometimes, the longer and slower of the genre make me forget. Or my mood will. And this novella-length fantasy novel with an incredibly engaging story is the perfect example of entertaining and fast-paced high fantasy.
Okay, let’s break down why this novella works so well. note: This review contains two spoiler sections, both marked with both tags and don’t-read-this notes.
→thematic concept and ideas, p.ii← There are a lot of ideas in this novella, but the basic concept can be summed up like this: it’s about how oppressive groups systematically perpetrate marginalization, and how bystander culture is used by these groups to stop pushback.
“Did we have to do it?” she asked. “No,” he answered, his voice breaking, tears falling into his beard to turn the flakes of ash to gray slush. “No, child. We didn’t.” He took a deep break then spoke again. “And making us complicit means we will never call them to account for the crime.”
It’s so easy to make a population complicit in their own oppression, to force them to be complicit and ignore the suffering of those around them. The thing I thought was most interesting about this novel is how - yes, this is a spoiler - (view spoiler)[two character’s being queer and them being wizards are integrated as parts of the plot. It's sort of an interesting narrative and I'm interested to see where it goes! (hide spoiler)]
→worldbuilding and concept← The world isn’t the focus, but it’s clearly built to criticize a deeply religious and discriminatory culture. The metaphor of this strict religious dictatorship is used sort of as a metaphor for queer oppression, which is clever. The world is not the focus of this novella, but it’s used well, tying into the themes of oppression perfectly.
Never be sorry for loving, Heloise. No matter who it is, no matter how it is done, no matter how the person you love receives it. Love is the greatest thing a person can do. Most go their entire lives knowing only ritual and obligation, mistaking it for love. But you have loved truly, as few can ever hope to do. This pain you are feeling is a triumph, Heloise.
I will say that I’m not personally into the typical oppressive-world concept and don’t tend to adore grimdark fantasy. Constant brutality isn’t my thing and I sometimes think it goes down the path of torture porn. But I felt good about this novella - it walks the line very well between happiness and torture, grief and hope. But this one is kind of brutal with a bunch of death, so just be aware of that going in.
→plot and story structure← This novella is structured so well. It’s difficult to give a novella such a clear arc of development and such excellent pacing, not too fast and not too slow, but I think Myke Cole achieved that. Unfortunately, one hangup: I felt sometimes that the plot was a bit unconnected. Specifically, the author tries to use a magic structure as a plot twist, and it felt a bit clumsy to me. From other reviews, I’m getting that the author does this because he’s trying to consciously subvert several genre constraints of adult sff, which is a fantastic idea, but I haven’t read enough adult sff as of yet to really recognize those points. [I mean, I enjoyed it anyway, so…?] Overall, though, I was a huge fan of the plot anyway. This book never really went where I was expecting, but still felt like a fairly logical progression. Events felt both out of nowhere and sensical. I never stopped feeling engaging in the narrative and didn’t really want it to end [okay. my slump wanted it to end.]
→character development← The character development here is so great and it makes this novella such a shining gem. Heloise is an impulsive teenager who also doesn’t feel annoying - she’s a flawed character who makes bad decisions and that’s okay. Her arc focuses mostly on her realization of the oppression she’s facing and also - this was the part I liked most - her discovery of her sexuality and her feelings for her best friend, Basina. These two arcs are integrated in a way that makes them feel like they’re each a part of the same story, which is exactly what I want out of character development like this. I’m really excited to see more of her saga!
Yeah. Anyway. Those are my thoughts on the core aspects of The Armored Saint and why I found it, on the whole, entertaining.
Something I noticed critique of in this book is - spoilers, but this might be worth knowing for lgbtq reviewers - (view spoiler)[the #buryyourgays trope (hide spoiler)]. I have… thoughts. First of all, yeah, it’s an accurate criticism.(view spoiler)[There’s a sapphic lead, one queer mentor, and one possible love interest, and then two of those characters die. Wish that were changed (hide spoiler)]. BUT I will say that it didn’t bother me personally for a couple reasons. (view spoiler)[It feels less like baiting and switching and more like those first books where the childhood love and the father figure both get fridged so the protagonist has to rely on themselves. [Which I literally think I’ve only seen happen to male characters until today?] Maybe it also helped that I was as warned - like you’re being right now, hmm? (hide spoiler)] So yeah, that’s a warning I’d add to the book, but it didn’t feel exploity to me personally [a Huge Sapphic]. Again, totally fine if you hated or loved it! That’s just how I felt.
update 11/5: unfortunately, book two of this series did not work as well for me - you can find my review here.
I have approximately 400000000000 feelings about this, but unfortunately the vast majority are (in a very personal, very conflicted way) negative.
OkayI have approximately 400000000000 feelings about this, but unfortunately the vast majority are (in a very personal, very conflicted way) negative.
Okay, let’s start with some positives. First of all, Kiko’s struggle with self hatred feels super personal and authentic and relatable. I loved the "what I wanted to say" and "what I actually said" dichotomies [and how they translate at the ending? you know it's coming, but it still hits home]. I loved the art mentions at the end of every chapter; they give the audience a connection to Kiko's art that would not have existed before. I loved the sensuous, gorgeous writing. I adored the relationship between Kiko and an art mentor she finds. I loved the emphasis on Kiko learning to accept her worth while being biracial [Japanese and white]. I liked her relationship with one of her brothers. I really love and connect to Kiko in general and I think - I know - many, many readers will as well. Starfish is nowhere near being a vapid or bland read - you will get something out of this pretty much no matter what. There are many, many, many fantastic #ownvoices reviews on this page by readers who saw themselves in the text, including my good friends May and Ju.
Unfortunately that was not in any way my experience.
So... the thing about this book is that it was always going to be way more personal a reading experience for me than it ever was trying to be. Parental abuse is a topic that hits home for me. It is not a topic I can in any way look at objectively. And when a book like Starfish comes along, and I've seen so many amazing things, and I'm expecting it to be That Book and work perfectly for me, and then it gets so many things right, and then it hits just a little bit off in all the places I'm hypersensitive about, it gets bad for me really quickly.
Nothing in this review is in any way a value judgement on Akemi Dawn Bowman's experience with parental abuse; it is a judgement on the way the text read to me personally and how it made me feel.
→healing love and abuse← I feel, very strongly, that Kiko's main arc in this book occurs due to a romance, and it fails narratively by weakening her character arc and falling uncomfortably close to the love-curing trope. While it’s framed somewhat well within the narrative of the book, the fact that Kiko is essentially saved from her mother’s house by a romantic relationship – seriously, the entire plot is incited by romance – set off so many alarm bells with me that I just could not get past it. This is a narrative we see all the time. This kind of romance is always. here. And unfortunately, not everyone gets a shiny perfect boy to save them from their abusive parent. So... this is a really alienating narrative, and that doesn't necessarily make it bad in its use here, but. I felt it.
"They don’t expect me to be—" I let out a breath. "A human being?” Jamie blinks at me. I feel my entire body getting hot. I feel like I’m being interrogated. I feel offended.
I also feel that as the love interest and a character who's kind of framed as the best person in Kiko's life, Jamie's ignorance is often not really criticized by the narrative? Lines like this made me uncomfortable due to their framing of normalcy as something apart from Kiko's anxiety, and that's something the book never really figures out how to subvert. I think the intent was to eventually have Kiko realize the degree to which her anxiety affects her life, but in context stuff like this reads a bit victim-blame-y, and it hurt.
→that one really awful victim blaming sentence← It's been six months, and I keep thinking about this book, and thinking I don't know why I reacted so badly to it, and then I think about this fucking sentence about Kiko’s sexual assault:
“Upsetting dad wouldn’t help anything. Giving him something extra to worry about when he has two little babies isn’t an option. I won’t make him unhappy just for the sake of needing someone on my side. I won’t be like mom.”
I won't be like mom. I won't be like mom.
Okay, listen, this wouldn’t bother me as a part of Kiko’s arc that she questions later on. Wanting to avoid being a burden is a huge part of abuse. That’s fine. But this quote is itself occurs at a key part of the story around 30 pages from the end, and the framing felt as if the author almost agrees. And… holy shit, guys, this is the worst thing I have ever read. Her dad can fucking handle being unhappy to deal with his only daughter’s sexual assault. It is not Kiko's responsibility to make a grown ass man feel better about something that is happening TO HER. Her fucking molester is living in her fucking house and we want to talk about how reporting this shit to her dad makes her like her mom?
guys, I know this is just one line and maybe it is meant to be looked at as a factor of Kiko's unreliable narration - although being able to tell might be nice for, ya know, kids who actually think this way!! - but. this. implies. reporting. literal. molestation. to. her. father. would. be. narcissistic. That is not good.
→show-not-tell & abuser portrayal← So… okay. I like - well, I don't like, obviously, but appreciate - that this is a story about a completely unsympathetic abusive parent. I also appreciate that the book explores how Kiko's mom is kind of motivated by racism, and is very stark and unflinching in portraying her.
But I think in her efforts to make Kiko‘s mom unsympathetic, Kiko’s mom comes off so blatantly evil that Kiko’s reaction to her feels inauthentic. Kiko’s mom is so consistently and obviously terrible that Kiko is given no reason to even remotely believe in her. Every single thing that comes out of her mouth is utter trash, and we're kind of told-and-not-shown that sometimes she can be nice. Which doesn't feel fully authentic. One of the worst things about abuse is the hot-and-cold aspect - the mood swings, the moments of sweetness that make you think staying is a good idea and you won’t be hurt again. And while we got the sense from Kiko’s narration that her mother’s changing mood is a part of her reality, the hot-and-cold is kind of absent on page - her good moods feel so ridiculously fake on page I’m shocked her nose didn’t grow.
I don’t know, I almost felt as if the sympathetic moments were removed because there would have been those Four Awful Reviewers who decided a lesser situation would’ve not been abusive. Which I understand. I mean, god, guys, I got ten pages into this book and wanted her to die a painful death. Along with every abuser in the world. Kidding. But I guess as a statement about abuse lit in general, I would love to see more sympathetic moments and how that makes the lead feel, because right now, it's as if YA thinks making an abusive character anything but consistently terrible will invalidate the abusive things they do.
Kiko's mom is a terrible person. She is self-absorbed and she is evil and she is so, so awful. And I don't even think untreated narcissistic personality disorder is necessarily a total bullshit theory. But the fact that most insults to her in this book revolve around her alleged mental illness bothers me. And even worse, there is absolutely nothing in this book to imply she suffers from BPD, yet allegations of split personality are tossed around a lot. And though Kiko’s anxiety rep made me feel slightly better, it felt gross that mental illness is associated with such a demonic character. Thankfully, in future editions of the book, this is being changed.
→shock value← Okay, here's the big one, and the thing that kind of ruined the book for me. Kiko's mom started to feel like she was being used for shock value. And not in a “this is lazy” way. “I cannot imagine how I would have gotten through this book last year” type of way. In a “how is anyone who needs this book going to read this book” kind of way.
and it kind of made me feel like throwing up. which is absolutely a personal problem. it absolutely, absolutely is. "this was too fucking hard for me to read and I couldn't read it" is not a quality judgement and it's not going to be everyone's experience and that's totally fine and totally valid. but I also kind of feel like if a book is written for abuse survivors and they can’t handle reading it, it’s not working.
As the author has made clear via twitter, this book was not written for me, as a white abuse survivor. Which is... okay. This is a genuinely unpopular opinion and I am so glad it is. I am so glad I am the minority opinion and so many other people saw themselves in this. This is a book that reflects some of my experiences and didn't work well for some of my other experiences. There were deeply personal experiences going into my feelings about this book and how awful it made me feel, just as there were in Bowman's writing of this book. And this is how I felt about it and why.
Y'all, I'm sorry, but the first five pages of this book are utter and complete trash.
I was actually only asked to read this to figure out whether it Y'all, I'm sorry, but the first five pages of this book are utter and complete trash.
I was actually only asked to read this to figure out whether it could be considered MG. Well, nah. This is the author's breakout ya novel after her popular MG Ivy + Bean. But I'm going to be honest: I have a feeling she's tried and failed at YA before. And she got really bitter. At... the existence of diversity in YA, I guess??
I only didn't quote because I had an arc, not a finished copy. But guess what? I checked today, and the quotes didn't change from the arc. This is from the second and third page of the book. Context: they're making fun of common ya tropes.
"And everyone thinks she's hot but she doesn't care, because she has a secret... Guess what it is." "Rape, incest," said Frankie in a bored tone. "Or oh my god, she's gay." "Oh my god, she's gay," said Charlotte. "And then... she sees a gorgeous Iranian girl with oh my god, scars on her wrists."
Okay, so here we are with the obligatory "being gay, or being iranian, or having a mental illness [etc] makes your life more likely to be represented in ya" rhetoric. Yeah... if you're going to write a YA parody novel, please do yourself a favor and read YA. Can you tell me where you found the depressed Iranian lesbian in YA lit? Because I gotta tell ya - she doesn't exist in any YA I've read.
And far more importantly, making fun of rape, incest, homophobia, and self harm, all at the same time. And not in a cute, all-in-good-fun way. This feels like an author who's really pissed off about diversity in ya. There is some real anger in this chapter, and I think it's worth questioning where that's coming from.
ALSO:
"Why aren't we gay?" "I know. But we're not. At least, I'm not. You seem a little gay to me." "You know what would be really good? If one of us was gay and like, dying of secret lust for the other. And then there could be a discovery scene. And then insane sex."
no one talks like this, first of all. no one is this creepily sexual. also, gay girls are not always thinking about sex, and I just. wow. this was shit.
This book is marketed as a book about normal teens. Cool. Fun. But of course, they can't be anything other than white and straight, because then they wouldn't be normal, right?
I'm abnormal because I'm a lesbian and I have depression. Cool.
Not a good way to make me finish your book, dude. I'm disappointed in you, and really unhappy to feel like a favorite middle grade author hates me. That's... fun....more
This is how you treat your mother? she cried. And if I could have I would have broken the entire length of my life across her face, but instead I s
This is how you treat your mother? she cried. And if I could have I would have broken the entire length of my life across her face, but instead I screamed back, And this is how you treat your daughter?
This book is about the legacy of colonialism. Call it what you will - Diaz calls it fukú, the Dulles brothers called it profit, and most U.S. government officials of our current time call it nothing at all. But make no mistake - it's a legacy of brutality. I'm not going to go into a symbolism analysis here, but I think it's fairly clear that fuku is directly linked to Trujillo and his dictatorship. Junior's toxic masculinity, Oscar and Lola's self-hatred, all the characters' lack of agency over their own bodies... it's all connected to colonialism's legacy.
Diaz is undoubtedly quite skilled, and I adore his ideas about the world. But I did not adore this book.
// SYMBOLISM... OR LACKING SUBSTANCE?
Ultimately, I don't think this book does lack substance - I think the substance is buried very, very deep. Too deep.
The thing is that Oscar Wao was originally a novella that was extended into a full book and, unfortunately, you can feel it. In this six-chapter book, one of the chapters was essentially exposition on the family background and was far longer than it needed to be. Abelard's chapter could've easily been shortened. There were times when I felt Diaz was only repeating his ideas over and over. It was as if he felt uncomfortable adding new material to his novella, so he simply repeated concepts he already had.
This book needed more. Or possibly the same amount and less pages. Or possibly just more actual conclusion to certain themes.
Maybe the real issue here is that sections of the book got bogged down by symbolism. I like symbolism too, and Diaz built it very well - it just felt as though he could've gone further with the characters if he had stopped clinging to the symbolism. Perhaps it's preferences, but I will always take characters over symbolism.
Now, I have no problem with symbolism, yet it got far too convoluted and truly wasn't meaningful until the end. One of those extra chapters in particular didn't contribute meaningful character work at all. What it DID do was emphasize elements of setting and symbolism that were already established in other chapters, but wow, it got repetitious fast. If each chapter were briefer, the book would've been far more powerful.
// YOU CAN'T ENJOY IT WITHOUT OVERANALYZING
This is the main problem with the book - you can't enjoy it without understanding the symbolism and overanalyzing it.
I also thought it was interesting that the only time the book made me cry was because I read an article explaining some of Diaz's thoughts. I would highly recommend giving this a read around 200 pages into the book, as long as you don't mind spoilers, because there are some super powerful sections. That interview single-handedly made this book go from a bad read to a good read. Unfortunately, it improves the book because it adds things to the text not in the text. But here's the thing: those things he said should have been a part of the book. His extracanonical thoughts add deeper meaning to the symbols, to the characters, to everything. Yet as he admits in the interview, all these thoughts were "just his interpretations". The book would've been far more emotionally hard-hitting if he'd put those ideas explicitly into the book; some of his thoughts about Yunior's backstory especially deserved a place in the light.
// GENDER ISSUES: CRITIQUING VS. ROMANTICIZING
me trying to figure out whether Diaz realizes that Oscar is the horny I've-just-been-friendzoned dude we all know and hate: [image]
I have a ton of issues with this in terms of how it plays with gender!!! It's not a coincidence that, as my AP Lit teacher stated, women overwhelmingly like this book less than men.
Through Yunior's character, Diaz does a good job criticizing hyper masculinity in the Dominican culture and show how it isn't the fault of a people, it's the fault of colonialism and Trujillo. This aspect of the book is pretty well-executed. While it's not explicitly stated that Yunior's behavior is negative, it's fairly clearly framed as bad by the narrative.
But... it doesn't work. Because holy shit, Oscar Wao is the literal embodiment of every sexist friendzoned nerd dude out there, and the narrative romanticizes the shit out of it. I am not saying Diaz necessarily thinks of Oscar as not being sexist, but... I can't tell. If I read this as a sexist dudebro, this would be the most validating book in the world.
I have, at this point, read enough interviews with Diaz that I don't believe this was at all his intention. But the fact remains that it took me reading three separate Diaz interviews in which he praises women writers of color to decide that the dude ISN'T incredibly sexist and DOESN'T have huge problems with women. That's not good. Especially when we consider death of the author as a factor. Here's the thing: I would totally think Junot Diaz had massive issues with women, and especially women of color, from reading this book alone.
Still, I keep coming back to the relative impunity with which the men in This Is How You Lose Her get to behave badly, and to the tone of the critical reception to these stories, which are not only stories but confessions, lamentations of wrongdoings. We have all been influenced by a culture where women are considered inferior to men and I would have loved to see what a writer of Diaz’s caliber might do if he allowed his character to step out of the vacuum he grew up in and that we all still live in. - Roxane Gay, How We All Lose
I think Gay's essay How We All Lose really sums up my feelings on this book, despite being about one of Diaz's other works. It's not that this book portrays flawed characters; it's that this book barely narratively acknowledges their faults.
// SOME FINAL THOUGHTS AND GOOD ENDINGS
This was going to be a three at most and then... the ending came. and I started physically crying. that last scene. I am a MESS. How do I recover from this. I gotta say I have problems!! but there's a part of me that loved it anyway and I'd like to physically fight Junot Diaz now because this was.... a lot. wow.
VERDICT: So much symbolism that you can't enjoy it without spending a huge amount of time considering it and reading outside material on it. It may or may not be worth the time. Depends on you.
I'm sorry, but I think this is possibly the one book I have an opinion on but am never going to read. I'm not going to judge other people for reading I'm sorry, but I think this is possibly the one book I have an opinion on but am never going to read. I'm not going to judge other people for reading this book, but the tropes around mental illness used in this absolutely disgust me, no matter how well-written they are. I might check this out from the library and read this just to form an opinion on it, but I really am so uninterested. ...more
This book is… certainly not something I will ever forget. The question is whether that is a good thing.
Forbidden is contemporary fiction about a brotThis book is… certainly not something I will ever forget. The question is whether that is a good thing.
Forbidden is contemporary fiction about a brother and a sister who fall in love. Before you say ew, I will note that it is trying to talk about the dangers of neglect by parents. Maybe. This relationship occurs between a sixteen and seventeen-year-old, one year apart, who have essentially grown up as the "parents" of their household. And indeed, it is, in some ways, a deeply heartbreaking story. The ending is actually AWFUL; you’re disgusted, but still, you find yourself thinking that they deserved more. Unfortunately, very little about the story conveys this same heartbreaking effect.
Of course this story is not meant to be comfortable. And of course, it is deeply uncomfortable to read about two siblings — they're BIOLOGICALLY RELATED, too, like not even adopted, and that would STILL be fucked up — having sex. (They quite literally have sex. on page.) But the existence of this relationship is not the problem, not really. Well, it’s certainly awful, but it’s not the main problem with this narrative as a whole.
The problem is that I felt the narrative romanticized this codependent, unhealthy relationship to a frankly insane degree. The book goes so far as to make this a forbidden, star-crossed lovers tale in structure and form, and worse, strongly suggest consensual incest is morally okay. This is a discussion I’m not going to get into because I just frankly know what the comment section is going to look like, but I think the message “trauma can breed codependent and incestuous relationships” is close to completely ruined by the implication that incest is fine, actually.
The book also fails to properly address the trauma of either of these characters. Lochen is essentially no longer speaking due to trauma; the narrative fails to actually address this, or the rather more disturbing fact that he is essentially physically abusive to his little brother. This is resolved, actually, in a way I found rather disturbing; he almost kills his brother at one point, which is not normal even under heavy pressure. Maya is portrayed as being fairly well-adjusted, which is a choice that strikes me as simply odd, given that 1) she clearly would have trauma given her circumstances and 2) is in a codependent incestuous relationship.
Another issue is that their mother is clearly written as an alcoholic, but the narrative makes it more about her being a slut who wears low cut clothing. This is a fucking disaster of a narrative choice.
One of my main problems with this is honestly just that it's… kinda terribly written. The actual writing quality is almost hilariously bad, to the point where I cringed at much of the dialogue. I think this poor quality contributes to the confusing narrative around incest and their mother, though I do want to draw a fine line here - narrative is not writing quality, and a fantastically-written book can still have shitty messages. This just managed to hit shitty messages and shitty prose.
What’s odd is I almost understand why this received so much cult popularity a few years ago. I think we need to remember the early 2010s YA market for a minute, and the popularity of books such as Ellen Hopkins’ Crank and Thirteen Reasons Why. Not to say that either of those books are completely without merit, but the reason these books received hype was not just for reasons of quality: it was for the fact that they portrayed teenagers as deeply flawed and human. In a world where YA books dealing with intense topics were not so common, where teens were often written as more superficial, I can understand why books that seemed to be willing to go darker would gain popularity. It’s just that this does not hold up.
I don't know if I liked or appreciated this. I don't think it’s worth your time.
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