Female DC Superheroes set in the 1940s. Sounds like a PERFECT comic book novel to me. I was instantly hooked from the first page with the gorgeous illustrations and the story. The Japanese American internment camps and dislocating Native Americans from their land was a beautiful core to tie the whole story together, and it easily fits into our contemporary time today as we question our privilege as inheritors of places that were taken with ignorance and violence. Using Wonder Woman and her allies as a conduit for this type of message was beautiful and fitting, but over the course of the first issue, my enthusiasm gradually declined. As much as I loved the diverse group of heroes, I didn't grasp a sense of who the girls were in this alternative timeline, how they work together, etc. except in their idolatry towards Wonder Woman. It started to come across as a group of DC heroes in groups collecting on the page blurring together with a lot of repetitive exposition. Every few pages or so, the illustrations morphed into a modern "cartoon" style, which became very distracting. Though its cliffhanger is typical of comic books, the story ultimately felt like it unraveled and left me questioning to check out the next issue.

It's the basic 'kick in the butt' inspiration, where the answer is clear and simple: if you want to be a write, you have to write. Too much of our approach to any kind of dream we have is caught up in fears and assumptions, and the only way to really make the abstract turn into something tangible is to actually do it. This book, and every other one, I read was made because writing is a verb. (If only, I start doing it myself.) There's not much in the book that wasn't new or fresh compared to other writing books I've read, however, the worksheets made me think differently about my approach to writing, and the publishing chapter was helpful - even though I don't know how much times have changed from now since the book was published.

I didn't finish this, so it's probably not fair to give it a review. But I just couldn't follow along with the story. I've seen a lot of comparisons between this cast of characters and Guardians of the Galaxy, and I think the big difference between them is that you could tell who was who in Guardians. They're a dysfunctional family because of their similar sense of humors and sassiness, but the actors make them distinguishable. For Aurora Rising, the multiple perspectives all exude the same tone, it's hard to tell anyone apart except between a shift in setting. As for the world-building, there's just too much name-dropping for species, jobs, planets, etc. to keep track of in such a short span of chapters and plot. I'm kind of surprised by how popular this book is, but it might just be that I didn't get things out of it that other readers did.

The briefcase design is what drew me to this book. Since Fantastic Beasts takes place in the 1920s, and I've been looking for wizarding inspiration from that era, this was a nice find at my local library. The author goes into simple-but-interesting enough detail about how the production was created and the detail towards characters and costume designs as well as pulling quotes and interviews with the cast and crew. The level of detail of the book's layout reminded me of the amazing graphic designers MinaLima who work on all of the Harry Potter movies, and it was a surprise that the book included posters / graphics like Mary Lou Barebone's flyers and 'Wanted' posters of Newt and Tina.

However, there are other companion books of the Harry Potter franchise that are more impressive like Harry Potter Film Wizardry. After reading this, I felt excited to watch the movie again and notice new details, but was underwhelmed by the book itself. Like a lot of the quotes from the actors and director were repetitive, and I felt the information skimmed through certain details I would've liked to have known more about from a behind-the-scenes process. Except for the inspiration I got from the film's era, I'm not sure if I would race out to include this in my Harry Potter collection.

One of the most iconic moments from the animated Beauty and the Beast film for any bookworm is when Belle walks into the library at Beast's castle. Bookshelves line the massive room from floor to ceiling, and Belle can read anything she wants compared to the limited library in town for which she is constantly ostracized about. As a fan of the animated princess Belle (who isn't?), I wanted to read something from her perspective that highlighted her love of books. Belle's Library is told primarily from Belle's point of view, almost like a diary. One page features a quote from classic literature and poetry about adventure, humanity, and love, while the opposite page contains Belle's thoughts about the quote. Admittedly, this is probably not geared towards my age range (I'm old, let's just put that way), so it's expectantly simpler in its language. It's not going to be delve deep into essays or analogies of her literary influences and idols, and that's fine. But the book's repetitive use of descriptors makes the book impersonal, and doesn't actually feel like Belle's thoughts. The prose is limited to 'this is something I believe in', 'that's a great passage', 'there's something wonderful about', etc. (Every few pages French words are included to remind us that Belle is originally from France). Similarly, the appendix in the back that explains why the passages were chosen contain the same descriptors - 'Because it came from her time period', 'Because Belle would've found it fascinating', 'Because Belle would've appreciated', etc. Belle is realistically just a fictional character, but she resonates with readers because of her compassion, intelligent, and fierce spirit. And, the tone of the writing is too redundant and formulaic. Even if I was a teenager, I don't think I'd be very charmed by this. If it wasn't for how well-designed the book is like the charming gold front cover and the adorable watercolor drawings that accompany every page, the book wouldn't really have a personality, especially one that matches Belle (either the live action or animated version).

After suffering a stroke, and the symptoms escalating to locked-in syndrome, Jean-Dominique Bauby spends the rest of his short life being cared for in a hospital. His only escape are trips outside of his room via wheelchair transportation, and his own imagination. Though his body fails to move and he cannot speak, he has his own way of communicating by blinking his eye and corresponding it to letters and meanings of things that he wants and needs - which is how this book is written.

Jean shares his experiences of what he's going through, mostly describing places and people that he visits and reconnects with in his mind. His prose is short and to the point, yet contain a sharp tone of his senses, memories, and dreams/nightmares - unrealized hopes of jumping out of bed and moving like he used to only to be reminded of his stark 'reality'. Like a butterfly moving from flower to flower, fluttering through the world, Jean's stories are short in length but paint in-depth pictures of life as he grazes through it.

I think more than any other book genre, we can go into memoirs with the unrealized expectation that the author is supposed to teach us something profound - whatever trauma or success they experienced, we hope to glean something from it that we can take away into our own lives. With The Diving Bell and The Butterfly, most memoir reviews contain a heavy emphasis of this not being in-depth, personal, or effective as other memoirs. For me, sometimes the best-taught memoirs are the ones that simply remind us of what it means to be human, how our bodies work in their own ways, and that we find a way to survive even when our bodies seem to be working against us.