Preteen favorite. I still want to make a zine thanks to this book.

A book that I had been meaning to read for years, and recently recommended to me for its analysis of how power is exercised upon the body. Baby's first Foucault, but it won't be her last.

This is my first Chuck Tingle, and I'm unsure whether or not I'm sad that I skipped right to his first traditionally-published, non-erotic book instead of cutting my teeth on his usual fare over my years of enjoying the titles (if you can hear Space Raptor Butt Invasion and not smile, I'm sorry that you have no joy or sense of whimsy).

I was eager to read Camp Damascus because I find Chuck's online presence fun and because I adore queer horror. I knew going in that it dealt with conversion therapy, but there is much going on that I didn't expect, particularly the supernatural elements of the plot.

But I was also surprised by how YA Camp Damascus feels. It might be marketed as an adult book, but it has so much YA crossover appeal that I would be tempted to say that its marketing is a mistake... At least, until I remember how much scrutiny children's and teens' colletions are under in public libraries, which makes me think it might be better to have this in the adult collection where it's less likely to come under fire.

Because I'm not as much of a YA reader anymore, I didn't enjoy it as much as I expected to. However, if I had gotten to read this as a highschooler, I think it would have blown me away and felt deeply affirming. So I hope that Camp Damascus finds the readers who need it.

Does what it says on the tin: Gives a very short introduction to body studies and the kinds of perspectives possible when you use the embodied subject as a lens for viewing various issues. Using this as a sort of preface to Shilling's book The Body and Social Theory.

Did not feel quite as twisty and suspenseful as I expected because you're right there in the characters' thoughts the whole time, going over the same events from different perspectives, and you find out most of the details about both women pretty quickly. Not a bad book, but also not one that strikes me as very memorable. However, I have to give Laura Sims points for perfectly capturing the dismay of a newly-minted MLIS-holding librarian who is getting her first taste of public library experience.

It needed more Marcellus and less manbaby. Strong start, but I ended up cranking the audiobook speed to 200% because Cameron annoyed me so much.

I read this for the komodo dragons (they're among my favorite animals and I recently visited my local zoo's new komodo habitat), and therefore got much more interpersonal drama than I might have liked. As much as it annoys me when readers complain about a protagonist being unlikeable, I really struggled with Meg's duplicity and poor decision-making, especially as it related to Jata, the komodo dragon in her care. Ruin your own and other human lives all you want, I guess, but keep it together with the animal who depends on you, and don't let the fallout distract you from your duties.

My favorite way to discover new-to-me poetry is to browse at McKay's, picking up slim volumes at random and buying them if 1. A quick perusal reveals at least one or two poems that seem interesting and 2. They cost less than a few dollars. That's how I found Heavenly Bodies, which had the further enticement of a cornsnake on the cover. (I have a pet cornsnake and think that they're darling creatures.)

I really liked these poems and their blend of mostly straightforward language and strange subject matter and images. I especially enjoyed Huntington's longer pieces, such as "Shot Up in the Sexual Revolution: The True Adventures of Suzy Creamcheese" and my favorite in the collection, the eerie "Some Testimony of Witnesses," which has kind of a Coast to Coast AM vibe. I also liked the structure of "Recovery Room," with its lines broken into perfect squares and its off-putting enjambment.

Cute, short, and exactly what I wanted from a cozy mystery about vampires who knit. Will continue with this series.

I set out to read Infinite Jest in a month, and I read Infinite Jest in 26 days and some change.

Mostly I wanted to read it because of spite: one time a man with pretensions of intelligence bragged to me not even that he had read it, but simply that he owned a copy, and since then it percolated in my mind that I should read it if only to be able to soundly one-up any future men who wanted to waste my conversational time in such a way.

But I chose to read it now, specifically, because this year has been personally horrid, and I wanted to give myself up to something that would get me out of my feelings and into my head in the service of achieving something and instilling in me a renewed sense that I can do whatever the fuck I want. And let me tell you, in that way, reading Infinite Jest worked. I found it a deeply satisfying project to undertake, and anything I felt while reading it was a product of the text itself.

My takeaways are that it’s not as difficult as people make it out to be (read House of Leaves and then talk to me about footnotes, you wimps), though it does demand attention and intentionally tests the reader’s patience. DFW presents some beautifully-articulated ideas and interesting characters, but far too often undermines himself with his own misogyny and weird hangups about trans women (that no one ever talks about??). It’s maybe one of my favorite books that I often didn’t even enjoy that much, and I kind of feel like I’ll never stop thinking about it.

So, I did it! Promise not to be the girl version of That Guy who tells every woman he encounters to read it.