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The Women's House of Detention is an exhaustively-researched and richly-detailed history of the eponymous women's prison that once operated in Greenwich Village, but its focus sprawls beyond the walls of the building itself as Ryan explores the lives of the cis women and trans men who passed through it. He argues convincingly that the Women's House of D served as a crucial center of queer culture in the Village, and in the process also makes the importance of prison abolition abundantly clear.
It's as fascinating, harrowing, and infuriating as you likely expect just from the subject matter. It feels very solid from an academic point of view, but Ryan's prose reads well and makes the book fine for slightly heavy pleasure reading. I have a couple of personal quibbles: The book does become a bit repetitive and I found it difficult to keep some of the individuals profiled clear in my mind, and the oft-repeated phrase "women and transmasculine people" stuck in my craw a little the way it always does when people say "women" but mean "cis women."
However, this feels like an important chronicle of queer history, and I do recommend it.
It's as fascinating, harrowing, and infuriating as you likely expect just from the subject matter. It feels very solid from an academic point of view, but Ryan's prose reads well and makes the book fine for slightly heavy pleasure reading. I have a couple of personal quibbles: The book does become a bit repetitive and I found it difficult to keep some of the individuals profiled clear in my mind, and the oft-repeated phrase "women and transmasculine people" stuck in my craw a little the way it always does when people say "women" but mean "cis women."
However, this feels like an important chronicle of queer history, and I do recommend it.
I decided to end my year with this fast-paced, popcorny thriller that I originally passed on when it was available for me in Libby... because it came in right before I was due to board a flight. No thanks!
The irony of Drowning is that it would be an excellent airplane read--propulsive prose, short chapters, suspense out the wazoo--if not for the subject matter. The first 13 pages--the ones covering the engine failure and resulting crash-landing in the ocean--are perhaps the most stressful passage I've ever read, and it made me cry while sitting safely on the ground. Maybe there's someone capable of reading it on a plane without having a panic attack, but I am not that person.
One thing I really enjoyed about Newman's writing is that she allows her women characters to inhabit a variety of roles, including being resourceful, knowledgable, and heroic, while experiencing strong emotion and having faults. It reads like the kind of action movie where typically women would be idealized figures in need of rescue, but go figure, when a woman writes this kind of story, that doesn't happen.
I would definitely be getting Drowning as a birthday gift for my dad, who was obsessed with watching TV shows about plane crashes, if he were still with us. As it is, I'll settle for recommending it to my survival and action/adventure readers at work.
The irony of Drowning is that it would be an excellent airplane read--propulsive prose, short chapters, suspense out the wazoo--if not for the subject matter. The first 13 pages--the ones covering the engine failure and resulting crash-landing in the ocean--are perhaps the most stressful passage I've ever read, and it made me cry while sitting safely on the ground. Maybe there's someone capable of reading it on a plane without having a panic attack, but I am not that person.
One thing I really enjoyed about Newman's writing is that she allows her women characters to inhabit a variety of roles, including being resourceful, knowledgable, and heroic, while experiencing strong emotion and having faults. It reads like the kind of action movie where typically women would be idealized figures in need of rescue, but go figure, when a woman writes this kind of story, that doesn't happen.
I would definitely be getting Drowning as a birthday gift for my dad, who was obsessed with watching TV shows about plane crashes, if he were still with us. As it is, I'll settle for recommending it to my survival and action/adventure readers at work.
While I don't love it quite as much as I love its successor, Drowning, Falling is still a damn entertaining thriller with a ton of heart. It reads like a blockbuster action movie, minus elements of that genre that leave a bad taste in my mouth. Pure fun. It would also make an excellent Dad Book.
Now that I'm sadly out of TJ Newman books (for now), I can confidently declare that I will read anything she writes in the future. Just never on a flight.
Now that I'm sadly out of TJ Newman books (for now), I can confidently declare that I will read anything she writes in the future. Just never on a flight.
This year I'm trying to read 12 banned or challenged books, and if you've been paying attention at all to the current situation facing school and public libraries in the US, you've probably already guessed why.
I decided to start with Bless Me, Ultima because it's a book I've always vaguely meant to get to at some point, and I thought it would be interesting to read something that has been banned for reasons other than depicting queer people existing. (I know that a lot of my reading for this project is going to be books that people are mad about because they depict queer people existing, and that's going to get depressing, and I'm going to need variety. I'm going to need to find some twisted comfort in reminding myself that sometimes people get irrationally angry about things other than queer people existing.)
I kind of expected that I would read this and it would be a pretty tame coming-of-age story about a young Chicano boy, and I would think, "huh, why would anyone ban this?" This was not the case. I can imagine that the child characters coming to straightforwardly heretical conclusions about God and worshiping a pagan golden carp deity definitely raised some eyebrows, not to mention the strong language and violence. I can also imagine people falling into the trap of assuming that the age of a book's protagonist reflects the best age of the reader, and then being shocked that this book presumably for young children has a brothel and brujeria in it.
That said, of course Bless Me, Ultima should not be banned. It's a significant book in Chicano literature and has interesting things to say about the protagonist Antonio's developing spiritual consciousness, and about the painful loss of innocence and grappling with the existence of evil that everyone goes through as we grow up.
I will say that I wanted to enjoy reading this book more than I actually did. I didn't really connect with the writing style, the long interludes of horseplay grated on my nerves, and I was frustrated by how little characterization the women and girls in the book were given. But I liked Antonio as a character (although his levels of perceptiveness and introspection at age 7 beggar belief), I loved his relationship with Ultima, and there are scenes that feel just about perfect. Anaya captures the landscape really well, and at a certain point I just started imagining everything in the style of a Studio Ghibli movie, because despite the very different setting, it just fits. Nature, the food, the scene where Cico shows Antonio the golden carp for the first time... Read the book and tell me it doesn't work.
I decided to start with Bless Me, Ultima because it's a book I've always vaguely meant to get to at some point, and I thought it would be interesting to read something that has been banned for reasons other than depicting queer people existing. (I know that a lot of my reading for this project is going to be books that people are mad about because they depict queer people existing, and that's going to get depressing, and I'm going to need variety. I'm going to need to find some twisted comfort in reminding myself that sometimes people get irrationally angry about things other than queer people existing.)
I kind of expected that I would read this and it would be a pretty tame coming-of-age story about a young Chicano boy, and I would think, "huh, why would anyone ban this?" This was not the case. I can imagine that the child characters coming to straightforwardly heretical conclusions about God and worshiping a pagan golden carp deity definitely raised some eyebrows, not to mention the strong language and violence. I can also imagine people falling into the trap of assuming that the age of a book's protagonist reflects the best age of the reader, and then being shocked that this book presumably for young children has a brothel and brujeria in it.
That said, of course Bless Me, Ultima should not be banned. It's a significant book in Chicano literature and has interesting things to say about the protagonist Antonio's developing spiritual consciousness, and about the painful loss of innocence and grappling with the existence of evil that everyone goes through as we grow up.
I will say that I wanted to enjoy reading this book more than I actually did. I didn't really connect with the writing style, the long interludes of horseplay grated on my nerves, and I was frustrated by how little characterization the women and girls in the book were given. But I liked Antonio as a character (although his levels of perceptiveness and introspection at age 7 beggar belief), I loved his relationship with Ultima, and there are scenes that feel just about perfect. Anaya captures the landscape really well, and at a certain point I just started imagining everything in the style of a Studio Ghibli movie, because despite the very different setting, it just fits. Nature, the food, the scene where Cico shows Antonio the golden carp for the first time... Read the book and tell me it doesn't work.
Something like 3.5 stars. This book taught me more than I ever consciously wanted to know about hot dogs--but I love a weird history book, even a weird history book that's really a memoir more than anything else--and also made me ravenously hungry every time I listened to it, despite the author's repeated insistence on comparing food products to bodily fluids. An unexpected bonus is that Loftus really captures summer 2021, a deeply bizarre time that I think most of us have hazy memories of.
Jenn McKinlay's Library Lover's Mysteries are the series that got me into cozies, and they continue to be my favorite cozy series. I've been meaning to give her other series a try, but was a bit apprehensive that they wouldn't live up to how much I enjoy the Library Lover's series.
And I mean, this didn't, quite, but that doesn't mean it's not a perfectly enjoyable cozy that has all the things you want in a cozy. It's fun and breezy, a bit silly, with (mostly) likeable characters and an interesting setting. There are some moments that feel slightly dated because cozies tend to be quite of their time and this was one published in 2010, but it's not that bad.
Not much to analyze here, but also not much to complain about. I'll continue with the series.
And I mean, this didn't, quite, but that doesn't mean it's not a perfectly enjoyable cozy that has all the things you want in a cozy. It's fun and breezy, a bit silly, with (mostly) likeable characters and an interesting setting. There are some moments that feel slightly dated because cozies tend to be quite of their time and this was one published in 2010, but it's not that bad.
Not much to analyze here, but also not much to complain about. I'll continue with the series.
I’ve only read a handful of Agatha Christies, but this is my favorite so far. The setup is intriguing, the wait for the murder intensely suspenseful, and the twists are shocking. I also really liked the characters and all the subplots going on. I recommend the audio production, read by David Suchet.
I was so excited to read this book, but when I say that absolutely nothing about it worked for me, I am not exaggerating.
At least I have some strong examples of what I dislike in a survival thriller, I guess?
At least I have some strong examples of what I dislike in a survival thriller, I guess?
I know that a lot of people dislike this novella—for “how dare Stephen King write this lesbian couple like this?” reasons, but different flavors of them—but I kind of loved it? My heart was warmed? It seems like a natural expression of Uncle Steve’s faith in the inherent goodness of people and his dismay at the Trumpian political landscape, and it’s got solid King writing in a concise little package. And I liked his narration of the audiobook. It had me sniffling on my morning commute and hoping I didn’t cry my mascara off before work. A solid 4.5 rounded up for me.
The bonus story also made me cry, and I also loved it. To other dog lovers who will need to hear this going in: Don’t worry, she doesn’t die.
And just… If you think that it’s off the wall to posit that a straight guy and long-term townie might have more social capital in a conservative small town than his lesbian newcomer neighbors, and think that it’s awful that he might leverage that to be helpful, I don’t know what to say. Signed, a lesbian from a conservative small town.
The bonus story also made me cry, and I also loved it. To other dog lovers who will need to hear this going in: Don’t worry, she doesn’t die.
And just… If you think that it’s off the wall to posit that a straight guy and long-term townie might have more social capital in a conservative small town than his lesbian newcomer neighbors, and think that it’s awful that he might leverage that to be helpful, I don’t know what to say. Signed, a lesbian from a conservative small town.