Amazing lecture series. Very concise chapters, extremely clear and gives context whenever something out of the cultural consciousness is brought up. The only thing I worry about is it the lecture series is also clearly significantly outdated. She drops some cultural touchstones like Disney’s Hercules and the Titanic movie, for instance. So, I wonder if (and sure there are) advancements or “updates” in critical thought on the subject.

I wrote about this on medium: https://medium.com/springboard-thought/for-good-and-ill-wolf-hall-wanders-the-mind-c92ebc1b1292

“Why are we so attached to the severities of the past? Why are we so proud of having endured our fathers and our mothers, the fireless days and the meatless days, the cold winters and the sharp tongues? It’s not as if we had a choice.”

England in the 1520s is a heartbeat from disaster. If the king dies without a male heir, the country could be destroyed by civil war. Henry VIII wants to annul his marriage of twenty years and marry Anne Boleyn. The pope and most of Europe opposes him. Into this impasse steps Thomas Cromwell: a wholly original man, a charmer and a bully, both idealist and opportunist, astute in reading people, and implacable in his ambition. But Henry is volatile: one day tender, one day murderous. Cromwell helps him break the opposition, but what will be the price of his triumph?

Wolf Hall is loved by many. Good reasons for that litter the opinions of various critics all over the world. I am not here to disparage them. I can say, ‘I liked Wolf Hall’ to anyone who asked and it would not be a lie. I may not have the same fanatical twinkle in my eyes that they do, though.
Let me start by saying I am a complete layman when it comes to all history. I entered Wolf Hall knowing very little about this history, in particular. The Tudors have never even been on my radar. Thomas Cromwell was a name that rang no bells in my mind. This ended up being of service to me in an unusual way…while also exposing some assumptions ingrained in the fiction.

I think Wolf Hall is very accessible if you already know about this time period. It feels like someone has sidled up to you while you’ve already been consuming historical fiction set in this time period and they’ve whispered to you that this thing you’ve been reading? It’s fine. You’ve seen the castles and pedigree, and perhaps even heard a rumor or two. But this, my friend, is the tea.

Strengths of Wolf Hall, in no particular order: incredible dialogue. Dialogue that will make you reread it. You’ll laugh out loud and your mouth will make an O when an insult is landed just right — often the delivery is timed perfectly with the end of a section or chapter. The quality of writing is great throughout. The drama and characterizations are buttressed by the historical accuracy of the major plot events. The slights and the torrid affairs that are hinted at in history are given more than a nod here. Its foundation is character drama and context around the sometimes phantasmagoric real-life, actual events. You’d think this was made up. But the larger plot points are for real. And that’s wild.

“…what’s wrong with you? Or what’s wrong with me? Why does everything you know, and everything you’ve learned, confirm you in what you believed before? Whereas in my case, what I grew up with, and what I thought I believed, is chipped away a little and a little, a fragment then a piece and then a piece more. With every month that passes, the corners are knocked off the certainties of this world: and the next world too. Show me where it says, in the Bible, ‘Purgatory’. Show me where it says relics, monks, nuns. Show me where it says ‘Pope’.”

The cast, especially royalty, sometimes resemble untamed feral creatures rather than people.
I, a foreigner to history and historical fiction, for the most part, was expecting to get a comprehensive picture of these lives. What was the fashion? What are the trappings of the period? What did a typical house look like? What do these old English castles look like in their prime; how were they decorated? Is this where pottery barn comes from? Or, if not all that, hit me with a sense of the general aesthetic for the time.

Wolf Hall is 650 pages long and has no time to give you these kinds of details.
It is, to its credit and its hindrance, mostly dialogue. I feel comfortable saying it is not a descriptive piece of literature at all. It may be the least descriptive thing I have ever read. (Or that I kept reading, anyway.)

This always caused my mind to wander. I cast about for details about where these people were. What were they wearing? How do they look? Why is it that there is almost no scene-setting throughout?

Being pulled out of fiction is not a positive thing for me. Eventually, I was pulled me back in. Auto-pilot time over. My mind naturally adapted to these incessant wandering by conjuring up the look of the thing derived from the actions and dialogue. It ended up being a surrealist brush that lacked in specific detail but was very rich in color and texture.

Reading became a fever dream.

Cromwell prowled the corridors silently, robes never giving away his many, many intrusions. black forms with the look of vampires — clothed only in black, of course — came to Cromwell at night and whispered secrets stemming from their pressed ears to frail wooden doors, always greedy for the unheard. They tailed targets across grain fields and streams and into church confessionals.
He, Cromwell (Ha!), and the king were the only ones with nuanced facial expressions. Curiously though, the king was clearly an asshole, yet scenes with him always had authenticity and golden sort-of weight to them. Flying out from his face and his hands, there was an almost comical amount of light about his person. The servants of royalty darted about with fear and hatred but always with deft, furtive movements as they lowered grapes into mouths and brought wine and water. These servants had flouncy robes, striped with odd colors, usually two-tone. Always stripes, never other shapes. Why? Who knows.

The court was a dark fantasy pastiche with abstract colors; abstract, blurred faces that stared endlessly.

People on the streets were ragged and bowlegged, denied dyes, and were either in decline currently, from the sweating disease, or else sweaty in general, because they worried they’d get it soon. Merry at breakfast, dead by dinner. Those cast in a minor role were dropping like flies.
Reading Wolf Hall was an interesting experience.

If you can’t tell by now, I have no idea what this time period looked like. I was not kidding. I think it’s fair to say you are expected to know some things about The Tudors and their time period. I have since looked up this era and boy, let me tell you, the things these people put on and flouted are worth describing.

I do not think this assumption of knowing the trappings of the period is a bad one for fiction to have. Even historical fiction. Especially when observing the success of Wolf Hall! But for those showing up wishing to be let into a room with many, exquisitely painted pieces that embody the time period, I do think there will be some disappointment. Look out for vampire whisper network servants. Those things are everywhere.

“He turns to the painting. “I fear Mark was right.”
“Who is Mark?”
“A silly little boy who runs after George Boleyn. I once heard him say I looked like a murderer.”
Gregory says, “Did you not know?”

This book is really, really good. It took a bit to get acclimated to the writing style but once I did, boy was it ever hard to put down. I'm going to go into a spoiler free breakdown of some immediate thoughts and then write a couple spoiler stuff that was fantastic.

Ren Warom has a fan now and her familiarity with cyberpunk tropes coupled with what must be some pretty in-depth personal knowledge make this book riveting.

Everything that is a veneer in this book at the beginning becomes recycled and pertinent later on. So much so that the name of the book only really becomes entirely clear in the very last paragraph of the book, wrapping a bow on the entire character arc of the main protagonist, Shock Pao.

While Shock is a Haunt, which is essentially a hacker in what's called "the slip", Amiga is a cleaner. She's an infiltration and assassination expert. If you're thinking this sounds like a pretty typical team up of protagonists, you're totally wrong. In fact most of the assumptions I had were blown away at around page 70ish out of 445.

Both of their character arcs are similar and are somewhat eluded to with the title of the book, but both are really well fleshed out and enticing. These are not likeable people (which, I like a lot!) who are thrust together by the repeated consequences of their own actions. One of the best things about this story is that the characters make this story. It is not a story in which the characters and put into, instead, they're entirely the vehicle for everything. And it works.

There's a system in place that grinds people down by way of a psych test when they come of age. Pass and you have a somewhat golden ticket, only they're looking for complacent people, dull individuals, etc. "Fails" are people that get cast aside from society. And the fails are literally outside of it, usually squatters in abandoned buildings barely getting by, but aren't ground up in the corporate gears.

Everyone has a drive that is basically just a flash drive in their heads but also allows them some measure of VR. Some tech lets them do stuff with that like most cyberpunk books, usually weaponry.

Where it's really interesting though is the digital environment. It's not a matrix or grid like system at all, in fact it's called the slip because it's an underwater realm. You literally dive into water and have avatars there for your needs. Most of the time it goes into just Shock doing hacking stuff but it's by clear design that the most freedom anyone has is in this place, and of course jacking in costs money and is regulated and what not for most individuals.

Shocks avatars are an octopus and a shark. Later on in the book the avatars become a predominate part of the fiction that end up being really interesting parts of Shocks and others personalities and identity. I really enjoyed what was done with this.

At its heart, it's about a job that Shock gets forced into doing that goes wrong and shit unravels from there. But it always has just enough going on outside of that and within the headspace of both Amiga and Shock that, it really feels like a lot more is going on.

It gets personal, it's gritty, its unapologetic in its depiction of bad people doing what they do as a reflection of their reality. It's crass only when it feels warranted and the punk elements really sing through with a lot of British speak mixed with some cyberpunk terminology. Fails ride metro lines apart from society, specifically Amiga, a lot. They are often depicted as the most humane compared to people in power. Not a new thing, but the world itself is a faaaairly big drift from typical cyberpunk stuff and it's also super enticing. Bits and scrapes of stuff get thrown out and the writing is in such a way that she puts a lot of faith in the reader to fill in the blanks after giving the larger chunks of world building. This coupled with how unique the slip was makes me really excited for the second book coming in June.

Read this book!

Also, some spoiler stuff I loved about this book below:
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1) Right away I felt like Shock had a chip on his shoulder and typically this is normal for cyberpunk. They are punks afterall! But slowly learning how Shock completed a transition while walking into the heart of Korea town on page 70 (I think?) was amazing. It mentally clicked everything into place for me. I was elated to read a book with a main character grappling respectfully with the fallout of that decision. But coupled with the absolute assuredly that he'd always been a man. It was just a really great read that wasn't an info dump. You slowly learn about it over time and it becomes a pertinent thing that drives Shock and fuels his every reaction. So. Good.

2) Amiga is the embodiment of the cyberpunk trope "technology is going to make us resemble itself and not humanity", and by having an actual protagonist completely roll with that POV, and making it a character arc as well, was just so satisfying for me. One because it's eventually subverted only because of the interactions between Shock and her. Two because it's pretty deftly done. When she realizes it, so do you. Or I didn't pickup on the trope or took it for granted until it was so blatantly brought to the forefront at a pivotal part in her story. Either way, awesome.

3) Shock's avatars being brought into the story was not something i expected at all. But was teased earlier on by some hints as to what he feels when he's driving the avatar and how he thinks and feels, was super interesting. The shark, a reflection of all the emotions he never ever expresses, most predominately his anger, was really neat. And to have his other avatar, which was assigned at birth, identify as female and have him grapple with those implications until the very last page. Again, extremely satisfying.

4) Having the entire story be a consequence of choice, bringing forward the case study on escapism and addiction, was just genius for me. Shock continually asks himself why he does the things he does and knows bad things will happen but instead gets high and continues to do it as though it's not a choice. Because it's not right? It's his addiction and it's also a major plot device for the entire book that makes it very organic. Never was there a line where I was like " Aw, fuck why'd you do that, Shock!?" It always made sense because that overriding urge that drove him was spelled out from the beginning. It's never in question and always has its hooks in him and because of that the normal system of control takes a back seat to a much more human one. A timeless one that won't ever stop being relevant and that's what makes a lot of this book so good.

After seeing Rocketman, I knew most of the big things and I have never been into his music much, so it was an interesting read but a 3.5 rounded up for me. I liked that it was frank and candid and it kept my attention. But with no personal connection to the artist a bunch of it could have been cut and was there for big fans. Which makes sense. Still a decent read.

I found this to be very insightful. Elliot comes at the issues from different viewpoints. The intricate dichotomy of passing for white, nutrition, self-love, beauty standards, art—especially photography, which was my favourite chapter in the book.

This is a great companion to The Inconvenient Indian because while the problems remain the same shifting the lens to that of a younger woman immediately reveals many more ways in which Western culture has caused harm and been continually abusive to First Nations peoples.

The ways in which this abuse plays out that Elliot has noticed are more intersectional and nuanced than other writing I’ve encountered on the subject.

Fantastic stuff. This primarily comes at indigenous community problems from a a criminal justice angle. It analyzes why the system needs to be decriminalized and suggests substantive changes and the thinking behind them. It’s a great text to round out other reading on the subject.

It is incredibly thoughtful and backed up with actual data and lived experience. The author is an indigenous lawyer and he’s been practicing for some time in those communities, and has also had personal interactions with the justice system on multiple levels.

It’s a short, clear, and important read.

While it was well written there are a number of contrivances that amass into it being very hard to suspend disbelief. But the annoying thing was that it also ends up not really being about anything. It doesn’t have anything interesting to say at the end of me going along with things that made me shake my head. It’s cheeky and might be fun, if it went anywhere.

I've begun writing essays like this on Medium. Throw me a follow if you like this content?
https://medium.com/springboard-thought/looker-what-society-tells-us-to-envy-unravels-us-at-the-seams-f15c31f995ce

A heads up: spending time in the head of a woman who is going to pieces can be intense and disturbing. But it also provides a unique way to illustrate the ways in which all of our lives are tailor-made for others.

“I am sick to death of men. Buzzing, angry men. Hot liquid men. Men wanting sex. Men wanting to touch and be touched. Men wanting to drain you of every last ounce of energy you’ve reserved for getting through the days…Men leaving their refuse everywhere: inside, outside, all over the world. Until the world fills up and spills over as it may soon do: The End.”

Looker casts an unironic, unyielding gaze on a woman who, at first glance, seems like she would be fulfilled by her life. At least, by the standards society has set before us as attainable precedents, anyways— savings account, “decent” male partner, post-secondary educated, a good neighborhood in a desirable city — all checked boxes; but our narrator is anything but content.

Ostensibly, this all begins with a splash of envy.

Envy for the actress, who has moved closer than ever into her orbit, causing her to contrast her own life with that of the hallmark. The narrator imagines hers to be a perfect life, but these fantasies feel more like a mere simulacrum the narrator projects her desires into, even as it cleaves her wide to do so.

But this all-consuming desire she develops isn’t the underlying cause, I’d wager. It reads more like a drive to obtain or possess the actress herself in some way, any way at all. This is a more “real” trigger, rather than simple envy. Interestingly, it is the response of a man. Of a consumer. Of somebody with autonomy and power and sway over their life.

But it too is merely a byproduct.

Where it all actually begins, we find out early on (a mild spoiler here), that the one true catalyst is the narrator not being able to conceive a child. She and her partner try everything, at great personal and emotional cost. Then, as she tries to cope with this loss, venturing out into the world and her curated life. Everything tells her she is ruined. And she begins to unspool.

I reference the narrator with pronouns and not by name because the perspective is stream-of-consciousness. All of our time is spent in her head (similar to the perspective of “You”) and so, there is no name. Granting the fiction the power to have the reader on a ride-along. This obsession could pervade anyone’s life, even your own; look out!

In a bid to reclaim control (as she perceives it) the narrator begins recreating toxic power dynamics she’s witnessed, and been subject to, throughout her life; with people she interacts with directly and in fantasies both. The lens she uses to view the world begins to change, accommodating a new outlook.

“But wouldn’t it make us sisters, the actress and me? Wouldn’t it be an act of communion with her, in the end? Could I ever make her see it that way?”

She also becomes bolder. As do the prose, which mimics poetry. They build up; become frenetic and desperate and lilting. Where once it was unnoticeable, the prose, and she herself, transcend their former structure.

Throughout, the narrator begins to take actions that are absolutely inexcusable and harmful to others, but they are also placed into a context such that the reader can at least understand them, and possibly, therefore, generate some empathy for the narrator. Two things withheld from her by those people she knows and associates with.

“Nothing can touch me, not the loud noise of traffic, not the crowds, not even the foul air. I’m as sheltered from it all as the actress would be — or more than she would be, because I don’t have the prying pairs of eyes, the dropped jaws, the pointed fingers, the tourists sneaking smartphone pics. I’m invisible — except for a few men who, predictably, do double takes as I pass. I ignore them. I feel so light and free I could lift up off the sidewalk and fly all the way home.”

Every interaction is punctuated by somebody wanting something from the narrator while giving nothing in return. And granted, she is an unreliable narrator… But this too is interesting because isn’t the fact that you, as a reader, may not have cause to believe her also the default position most people take in society when a woman behaves outside of how a woman ought to behave, think, and act?

At the very least, in Looker, nothing in the narrator’s life helps her mental and emotional well being, that can be said for certain — and we can take something away from that.

Even when people become aware that something is amiss with her, something they intuit to be wrong or “off” somehow, their reaction is to either condemn her or do nothing at all. The result: every interaction pushes her further away from stability and improvement, of course.

The hard truth found in Looker is that there is no real, substantive justice to be found here — for anyone. Our society is not arranged to help the majority of people. Even more deplorable, it doesn’t help, only hurts those individuals who do not — or cannot — fulfill their asymmetrical social contract. Life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness are never quite within reach, and our envy often is left to spoil, turning into something dark and toxic.

“This cannot be my life. I never thought it would be. I envisioned a sunlit, stylishly decorated place, with books lining the shelves and a beloved’s arm holding me. I envisioned children playing in the backyard as I smilingly went about menial household tasks. I envisioned myself as a tenured academic, wrapped safe in the belly of an institution for all time. I envisioned myself as a good woman, a great woman — the best! Better than the actress, happier than the actress, more alive and connected to life than the actress could ever hope to be, trapped as she is in the velvet prison of fame.”

Exceptional. Thomas King opts to present history from his own lens with his own personality and the result is an exceptionally witty dialogue with historical events. He points out the stereotypes most associated with indigenous peoples and where they came from, disarming them effortlessly.

Every argument I’ve heard from people about what indigenous peoples’ “problems” are, is interrogated aptly and succinctly here.

It also goes into a surprisingly comprehensive look at events in all of North America and contrasts United States and Canada, disallowing the typical arguments you hear from people from either country.

He does all of this with his own voice. And states his intentions up front, knowing full well some people would attempt to discredit this history lesson because of goal posts set as to how a history book ought to be presented. And he doesn’t care at all. The result of allowing himself his own voice and history within the text, in my mind, creates an accurate picture that comes with the lived experience of a person who knows what he is talking about.

It’s the best book on the subject I’ve read. Period. And I have read quite a few.