I’m excited to share that I will be contributing monthly reviews to The Lesbrary book review blog, dedicated to talking about books by and about women/femmes who identify as queer.
The first review I wrote for the blog is for “Every Exquisite Thing,” a short story part of the Ghosts of the Shadow Market collection from Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments universe. Follow this link to see the review. Let me know your thoughts if you’ve also read the collection or the story!
I got into comic books pretty late in the game (see my post about that here). The thrill of collecting issues soon waned though as I grew overwhelmed with the number of stories I wanted to keep up with.
It’s easy to fall behind on so many issues, especially if you follow the big two: Marvel and DC. Having the time and energy to get to your local comic bookstore (LCBS) every new comic book day (Wednesdays by the way) can feel like a chore after a while.
Not to mention the financial investment in these collections. Sure, it’s only $3-4 per issue, but if you follow, say, five different comics, that’s $15-20 per visit. Each visit might occur weekly or every other week.
I got to the point where my visits were monthly. The combination of remembering which issues I needed and which comics to keep up with (especially if they weren’t put on my pull list from the beginning) made me fall behind to the point where I just made a note to wait for the trade of that collection.
Let’s not forget that if you buy physical issues, they eventually start taking space. You need the added investment in storage for them, short and long comic boxes or crates or shelf space. When does the madness end?
If you’re like me, you feel guilty about recycling old issues you’ve already read. So where should they go? Libraries don’t really take single issues. You can try selling them back to your LCBS or maybe online. But that’s another chore in itself.
With all these factors to consider, it’s easy to feel guilty about giving up on comic books. You can start feeling bad about not supporting your LCBS and comic book creators, especially knowing how much they rely on the issue-by-issue support. It’s alright though.
If you find one or two series that you’re really passionate about, then go ahead and make a pull list for those. If you’re worried about the physical space, then consider a digital subscription. If you’re concerned about the expense, then decide on a budget to help you choose if you’ll buy individual issues or wait for trades on certain series.
I picked this book up for black history month and finished it just before February ended.
Americanah tells the story of Ifemelu, a Nigerian woman growing up in Africa with some of the same concerns as most teenagers, and some not so common.
As she navigates her youth and becomes a college student, the constant protests and walk-outs from the schools’ faculties makes it hard for her and her friends to get an education. She decides to go to America, leaving her high school sweetheart Obinze behind.
This novel is not told in chronological order, but that’s the base storyline from which all the other events and moments that take place are founded on. The book takes on the Herculean task of addressing numerous sociopolitical issues, from race to feminism to sexual assault to class to culture and so much more.
While the material sounds heavy and overwhelming, Adichie’s writing is so precise and focused, that it never feels like it’s all over the place. The story itself doesn’t take on a linear structure, but its commentary and social elements are clear and articulate.
Even when the protagonist is working through the issues herself, Adichie’s development of Ifemelu’s feelings and actions in regards to them feels like real life. Sure, the characterization conveys the sense of a messy human being, but the writing itself is never a mess.
The events throughout the novel are broken up by posts that Ifemelu writes for her blog, each one relating to the particular scene happening at the moment. It was interesting to see the character’s introspective moments take place in this format, as it presented her thoughts, feelings, and opinions in a cohesive manner that couldn’t be conveyed by the narration.
One of the salient points that stood out to me is that Ifemelu is often irked by displays of false identities. She doesn’t care for two-faced people, and yet in participating in her blog that sends her into internet fame, she too wears a mask. This hypocrisy might make for an unlikeable character to some, but for me personally, I found it realistic and just plain human.
Of the many issues touched on in this novel, its handling of mental illness and how it is perceived in other cultures stood out. The basic understanding brought to light by the African characters surrounding Ifemelu is that mental illness and conditions are fake diseases made up by white people.
When Ifemelu experiences anxiety and depression, her best friend Ginika recognizes the symptoms and talks to her about it. Ifemelu’s Aunty Uju though, from an older generation, says it’s just another made-up disease created by the quirky American doctors who think everything is a disease.
The split between generations and cultures creates a striking picture of how “Americanized” those who emigrated have become. However, they are still seen as foreigners and outsiders in America, but when they return to Nigeria, they are now foreigners and outsiders to their homeland.
This idea of belonging to two places and no place all at once resonated with me, as I’ve seen it second-hand with my father, and how he’s been living in this country longer than the country he was born in, and whenever we go back to visit Ecuador, he’s an outsider there now. It’s a feeling I’m sure many readers will find rings true.
Adichie’s novel doesn’t necessarily provide answers or easy fixes to the issues discussed or the problems emigrants/immigrants face. Rather, she brings the discussions to light so that those who read the book may take on the conversation, the same way her characters have.
I saw Aja Monet read at a poetry panel at the Miami Book Fair a couple of years back, and immediately knew I needed to pick up her book. It took me a while to do that because every time I went to look for it in a store, it was out of stock. That should tell you something right away. I finally found it at a store in Boston though, so I could finally read it!
My Mother Was a Freedom Fighter is a collection of poetry dedicated to the strength and vulnerability of women of color who straddle multiple worlds at once. The voice of so many of the poems feels soft, but strong, like a quiet passion. It’s feminine and reverent, like a prayer to a goddess.
Monet creates subtle, but powerful lines that evoke a primal emotion, like these:
"i cannot tell the difference between her wailing and mine my mother does not know we are sisters"
In poems like “ree ree ree,” Monet uses solid images to convey a simultaneous sense of womanhood and the weight that comes with that identity, as well as freedom from identity afforded by childhood:
"how black and brown girls gather and peel comparing stretch marks and playground scars."
Poems like “the young” give a raw and visceral feeling with images that pound on you as hard as the piece’s rhythm itself. This combination of detailed imagery with disciplined rhythms works to make a piece of art that hits hard.
The poems with short staccato lines create spitfire lyricism, while those with longer lines create a rich and lush cadence that conveys a sense of reverence. Monet is also adept at the use of space around words and on the page to convey sound instead of silence. The visual structure of the poems makes it feel like the blank space between words is louder than the words themselves.
Monet’s specific choice to use no capitalization and very little punctuation also plays into this sense of prayer within poetry. The collection reads as a series of pleas from the men, women, and children from the speaker’s world of simultaneous joy and sorrow.
While the first section focuses more on the power of femininity, the second part of the collection contains a cry for justice. Once again, Monet’s use of space and structure create a visual plea on the page that conveys a sense of urgency that evokes the pain behind the pleas.
The third part of the collection hones in on intimate relationships that have shaped the speaker. In the piece “selah,” Monet states:
"i love my body when it is with your body"
This language shows a total vulnerability and insecurity that many people have, and yet in that vulnerability there is strength. It’s a personal sentiment, but one that is universal, and that’s what makes Monet’s work so brilliant.
The collection ends with a salient call to “always, be.” It’s a statement that ties the whole book together and reaffirms the very title of the collection, because the speaker knows that merely to exist is to resist, an act that those in the margins are all too familiar with.
I highly recommend this poetry collection to those who want to dive into work that lifts the voices of those who were once made voiceless. It contains so much emotion and power that long after reading, it lingers with you.
Has anyone else read My Mother Was a Freedom Fighter? What are your thoughts on the collection? Any particular poems that stood out to you? Let me know in the comments!
Aside from being an avid reader, I also love listening to podcasts. Naturally, I gravitate toward a lot of bookish pods. I started in podcasts with Welcome to Nightvale and Lore, but soon expanded from audio dramas to topical shows. My foray into the bookish podcast world started with Book Riot, and it’s only gotten better ever since. Here are my favorite reading and book podcasts (in no particular order), and what value they add to my reading life.
I started by reading the articles, and then delved into the audio side of the media brand. I can’t recall anymore how I stumbled upon them. It was probably through Tumblr, but regardless, this podcast about books, publishing, and the world of reading just hit all the right notes.
It incorporates everything I love about that world, from discussion of news from the publishing and book retail world to analyses of the most recent branding weirdness that Barnes & Noble does. Hosts Jeff and Rebecca cover a wide range of reading topics that can appeal to any type of book lover. Whether you’re a professional in the business side of the industry, an aspiring writer, or an avid consumer of stories, this show has something to tickle your funny bone.
While Book Riot is the main brand of the media group, its many other shows offer readers of all kinds just what they’re looking for. Get Booked is my other favorite podcast from BR because it appeals to my particular addiction of adding to my ridiculously large to-be-read (TBR) pile.
The hosts, Amanda and Jenn, create a fun and energetic banter while answering reader requests for book recommendations. The way this show works is listeners send in their questions for books to read, whether it’s for gifts for someone else or book club or just to find out what they should read next. Get Booked offers listeners a more interactive experience. I actually sent a request and got it answered during the very next episode, which felt so nice to hear, because it made it all that much more real.
The other part I love about this podcast is that there are often questions and backstories from listeners that may be similar to something you’ve been looking for, so once they get recommendations, you do too. Recently, they started incorporating listener feedback, in which listeners can send in their own recommendations to previous questions asked on the last episode. It makes it all feel like a community.
Hosts Andrew and Craig make for a hilarious duo in discussing backlist “books that you’ve been meaning to read.” Each week one host reads a book and tells the other about its plot, characters, and his thoughts on the story. What I like so much about this podcast is that it sounds like my best friend and I talking about our latest reads. It’s smart, but not academic and dry, perfect for the average reader who wants to discuss themes and symbolism, but still wants to make jokes and puns to lighten the tension on those tough reads.
The most fun part are the episodes in which Andrew and Craig embark on a choose your own adventure book. The hosts will do about seven different paths, depending on how each one ends, all while getting through fits of giggles and making character voices that just absolutely make a long work commute worth the time in traffic.
I can’t very well talk about bookish podcasts without mentioning the Eclectic Readers. Disclaimer: my cousin is on this podcast, so there may be a bit of a bias.
With this podcast, hosts Jeannette, Tara, Susan, and Meredith rotate between episodes, sometimes with all four discussing that month’s read or just a select few. They call themselves the Eclectic Readers because their tastes vary in range, reading across the board, from Pachinko to The Last Black Unicorn. They started as an in-real-life book club/virtual book club until these four hosts eventually developed a podcast for their group.
My favorite part of this podcast (aside from my cousin) is hearing their pre-show discussion of their latest non-book club reads. It feels like sitting down with friends and catching up on mutual bookish interests. Plus, there always seems to be some kind of reading or book event happening that one of them is attending, so it’s always fun to hear about those.
Listening to books and reading podcasts has only enhanced my life as a reader, whether it’s by increasing the TBR, knowing there are others like me who care about reading as much as I do, or getting the insider scoop on the publishing industry. What bookish podcasts do you recommend? Why do you like them? Let me know in the comments.
What is it about not finishing a book that gives us so much guilt? Find out in my latest blog post!
I’ve spoken before about that awful feeling with the DNF pile in your reading list. You can check out that post here. Quick definition for those that aren’t familiar, DNF stands for “did not finish.”
I know, it’s hard to imagine not finishing a book when you really consider yourself a reader. When you identify so strongly with the label reader that it’s just a core part of who you are as a person, the sick feeling of not finishing a book feels like a betrayal somehow.
I was listening to my cousin’s podcast recently (Eclectic Readers – check them out!) and they discussed that guilty feeling with the DNF pile. That got me thinking about the association of guilt with leaving a book unread.
The word itself means a sense of remorse for some wrongdoing, like breaking a law or committing a moral offense. Lord knows there’s nothing illegal about leaving a book unfinished. There’s nothing even immoral about it. Seriously, it’s a totally neutral action, of which there are no consequences. So, why do we feel the DNF guilt?
As I began to really think about it, I’ve come to believe the feeling stems from a sense of “cutting your losses.” Sure, it’s not the same as running a business and spending millions of dollars on a project that turned out to be a lost cause. It’s probably at most a $25 + tax loss on a brand new hard cover from Barnes & Noble.
It’s still a loss though. It’s a loss of money spent to purchase the damn thing. It’s a loss of shelf space that could have gone to more worthy contenders. It’s a loss of time and energy, as you’ve already spent both on starting and getting through some portion of the book, so you might as well finish, right?
The guilt we feel from not finishing a book comes from a sense of loss, and in my experience, people sure hate to lose. For me personally, that monetary loss cuts deep. Sure, one book is at most $25, but what if I bought 10 books that I didn’t end up finishing? That’s $250! Maybe that still doesn’t sound like a lot to some people, but for those who prefer to save money wherever they can, that’s a dent in the wallet that makes them wince.
This also reveals another deeper problem: the need to stop buying so many books. It’s so easy to get caught up and swept in by the love at first sight feeling when you see that gorgeous cover on the shelf and just want to take it home. Looks can be deceiving. Even words can lead you astray. That back cover description of fascinating worlds and characters just sucks you right in and entices you with, more often than not, sweet nothings.
That’s why this year, I’m resolved to exercise restraint to reduce the DNF guilt and the feeling of having wasted money and minimize time spent on books I don’t enjoy to avoid that feeling of money, time, and energy lost. That means less trips to Barnes & Noble to browse the aisles. I often go to the cafe to write, and when I’m done with that, I think to myself, “Let me just take a quick peak.” I have to physically force myself out the door, because I know a quick peak will devolve into “just a book or two.”
I’m also going to use my library more to find books I want to read. Granted, that’s a bit harder, because many of the books I want to read are independently or self-published, which means they don’t get picked up by most libraries. My library especially can be a bit lackluster with its selections. Unless it’s The Girl on the Train or Gone Girl or The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo or whatever iteration of Girl we’re on these days, the chances of finding the book I want from my local library are slim.
I will make every effort to find the books I want to read through the libary first. When that fails, I’ll look into second-hand options to try to find them for much cheaper than retail prices. Heck, I’m even making the effort to borrow books from friends more often. Buying brand new from a big-name chain bookstore is my last resort this year.
Also, I already started making the executive decision to just nix some titles off my TBR altogether. If I can’t find it for a reasonable price anywhere, I take the Marie Kondo approach. If it doesn’t spark joy, I let it go and click delete on my Goodreads “Want to Read” list.
What are your thoughts on the DNF guilt? How do you avoid the guilt altogether? Let me know in the comments!
I read a few Michael Connelly mystery books and other similar novels throughout college. I’m currently working through another hard-boiled mystery, Privileged Lives, the first in the Vincent Cardozo novels by Edward Stewart. I love the gritty, dirty mood and feel these novels provide. I like rough around the edges detectives who are kind of jerks, especially to bad guys, but deep down they’re really passionate about their job of protecting people and finding justice, even if they are a bit jaded after decades on the job. I love skeevy settings and shady characters. I love the down in the dirt crimes and seeing the worst of humanity. It’s a weird wheelhouse, but I know I’m not alone.
What I don’t love about most of these books though, is that they also come with a healthy helping of sexism, misogyny, homophobia, and racism. There’s something about the hard-boiled detective that makes writers turn to tropes of womanizing, prejudice, and “just being honest.” I get it. These novels are made for a hypermasculine audience. That’s their appeal.
And yet, the more I read them, the less and less I can stomach dialogue that blatantly uses slurs and stereotypes to convey the image of hardened police officers who are just macho men. That’s just what these detectives do. They rough up criminals, drink straight Scotch, and spend too much introspection time on pondering the length of a broad’s legs and the attractive shape of her waist to hip ratio.
I guess what I’m getting at here is recommendations from fellow readers. For those like me who love the gritty, hard-boiled mystery but without the bigotry, I’d like to invite you all to tell me what some of your favorites are. I’m still all for the gruff detective who won’t let go of the case that haunts his nightmares, and in the end gets the girl. I just want less of that man’s man mentality that leads to toxic masculinity. I’d really like a female detective lead that has those same qualities that a male character is allowed to have, and still be loved by the reader.
You could say I’m looking for Jessica Jones read-alikes. I think that’s what really appealed to me about that character and show. She was a flawed and terrible protagonist who acted like she didn’t care about anyone, but she still did the P.I. job because the truth was she did care. It’s probably the only time I’ve seen a female anti-hero that fans love and want more of her story.
Though I’m a big fan of the character and the show, I don’t just want to read J. Jones comic books. I want other novels and mysteries in that vein that give me the seedy side of humanity without the outright prejudice. I know that sounds contradictory, but it’s clearly possible if the creators of Jessica Jones could make it happen.
So if anyone out there has suggestions to help me get my fix of the hard-boiled detective mystery without bigotry, I’d greatly appreciate it. Let me know your recommendations in the comments!