I read the first book in this trilogy, Her Majesty's Royal Coven, just a few months ago and thought it was a fantastic start to the series. I had a few critiques (which you can read more about in that review), but for the most part I was on board, invested in where the rest of the plot was going to take me, and ready for this next installation. 

 

This book picks up pretty close to where the last one left off. (I'm going to include a few spoilers for the first book in this little blurb about the plot of this second book, so beware if that's a concern for you!) We open with Leonie, Elle, and Niamh (or really, Ciara), along with Holly and Theo and some of the rest of the HMRC witches, at the funeral for Ciara (or really, Niamh, though none of them know it yet). And the novel quickly opens from there into a new set of dramas and threats: Ciara in Niamh's body trying to figure out who brought her back and why and preparing to take over as High Priestess (a role she never dreamed of having) while not letting on to anyone that she's an imposter, Leonie takes off to search for her brother who is missing in his efforts to recapture Dabney Hale, Theo is struggling with how she got her new body and what it means for the rest of her life/future and a mysterious lessening of her powers, Elle is trying to hold it together as all her friends have scattered and are struggling in their own ways and she becomes aware of her own troubles at home, and Holly is probably the most typical of them all with her worries about her best friend Theo falling for her brother (ew!) and her father's familial betrayal. And of course, along with all their individual struggles, the greater forces around them are coming together: mundane politicians, secret witch hunter societies, Hale's bloody search for power and control, and the oracles' constant visions about the plans of the demons to bring down the world as we know it to an end. 

 

Alright, the growth from the first novel to this one, in Dawson's writing and plot development and general depth, was so solid. There was a lot more background and bigger picture look at the interactions between witches and the mundane world and how they coexist. It's hard not to make this comparison, so I'm going to, but I want to recognize that it's not an uncommon trope in coexisting magic/non-magic societies fantasy novels, but there are some aspects that are reminiscent of HP, with magically hidden building facades, parallel governmental structures that the "mundane" leaders find out about after election, etc. But also, Dawson takes it further, recognizing the actual current-day politics of the developed world (and how they're getting ever more intolerant) within all those tropes. The gender politics in these overlapping groups have gotten deeper and more nuanced here, including the same witch-warlock tension as before, but now with an additional incel-vibes mundane-males group, and more. I appreciated that increase in complexity as the story unfolds more, it's great series-level arc growth. Related, these additional nuances and development extended to other areas as well, even within the witch community, and while there is always room for growth on this front, I thought the intersectionalities of womanhood and femininity were definitely better addressed here than in the first. 

 

Another thing I loved about this second book was the growth past the characters of the first. There were a couple of characters that played huge roles in the first novel that are no longer around, and Dawson filled those gaps with new voices and/or with developing other voices more and I was impressed with how smoothly she made that transition happen. As part of that, a couple explorations in particular were well done. One sort of reminded me of a concept from Wrath Goddess Sing - feeling guilty about actually getting the body that you want, while so many can’t - and how that shows up really makes you think about all the different ways our brains and society can sabotage our happiness, no later how joyful something could/should be. Another is that, as Ciara's memories came back and we learn more about Luke's background (and things got gorgeously complex!), there was a real reckoning with the individual responsibility versus being forced to do things because you have less power or are under someone's (or a substance's) will/influence or exist within the confines of a system that you cannot fight or bring down alone. Dawson addresses difficult questions like where does that line of personal culpability exist and what can you be forgiven for doing under those circumstances and what takes it too far and how do you atone (internally and externally)? She also brings up questions around what is acceptable in the fight to make a better/more equal power structure. Just, such multifaceted issues to grapple with and it's done really well as this second book helps grow the series into something more. 

 

A few final notes. I still love the magic. So much. It's such classic feminine witch power and while that's not everyone's jam, it's definitely mine (more concrete than, but similar vibes to, the magic in VenCo). I still hate the body-switching trope, but since it got resolved within this book, I'm letting it go and moving forwards because the rest is good enough that I want to.  The ending was great. (I was confused about Milo for a while, but there was a break between my reading the first and second books and I have spotty detail memory so I just kinda went with it, but then the final little twist was like, whoa.) And it was a well-balanced cliffhanger situation - enough for me to be somewhat edge of my seat for the next one, but not uncomfortably so (which I really dislike the feeling of, so I'm glad for that).  

 

So yea, a great second book. I didn't get any of the slow bridge-between-opening-and-closing that the middle book in a trilogy sometimes brings, which is fantastic and hats off to Dawson for that. The plot was action-packed and interesting (still no punches pulled with deaths and the responses of remaining characters - so good) and the human emotions and traumas and decisions are so messy and nuanced. This book really took all of that to the next level. It was a dramatic ride and I'm very excited for the finale! 

 

“Other people’s memories of your life are unreliable narration at best.” 

 

“Inside every witch there are two crows: one saying you can't use your powers to fix the world to your liking, and another cawing, why not?” 

 

“She hadn’t even started to think about her life beyond becoming a girl. That had been her only goal. It turned out there was a whole lifetime of stories waiting after that happy ending.” 

 

“Absolute certainty is the language of fools, and the demagogues who exploit those fools.” 

 

“They say love is blind, but it makes you blind.” 

 

“I will live to see the day when men no longer fear powerful women.” 

 

“He believed he was in love with her, and isn't that more or less love itself?” 

 

So, it's pretty hard to not have your attention grabbed by this title. And it's been on my back burner because of that alone. But then, as I was updating curricula this summer for my job (I'm a Health Educator focusing on adolescent health, especially puberty/sex ed), I was realizing that I was a bit uncomfortable with how highly our programming focuses on negative consequences for people with female reproductive systems due to unplanned pregnancies, but had comparatively nothing consequence-wise for male-bodied people. I started doing some research and realized...there isn't much data for that. It's just not really tracked/measured in a usable way. But I thought, there had to at least be some way to address responsibility more evenly at least, even if the consequences remain greater for the child-bearing person. Enter, as a starting place at least, this book. 

 

In Ejaculate Responsibly, Blair presents 28 points (arguments?) that reframe the common conversation about abortion, and how to prevent it. She moves the focus over to men, talking about the unfair burden of prevention that has long been laid at the feet of those with uteruses, and why that is, in fact, both unfair and not the best option(s) for prevention anyways. With arguments ranging from the higher fertility of male reproductive systems, the unevenness of the birth control market and the stigma around birth control for male bodies, the risks pregnancies poses to the child-bearing person and more, Blair builds a cohesive, effectively repetitive and incredibly accessible presentation for why pregnancy prevention (and thus abortion prevention) i very much a "men's issue." 

 

I want to start by saying that I did appreciate the note on language and setting expectations at the beginning. It recognizes and validates other perspectives and experiences (primarily trans and queer, to be clear), while clarifying the intent of this book (that's not the audience most in need of this info at this time *cough* privileged white cis male politicians *cough*). With time, it would be rather better for this discussion to become more fully inclusive, but for a short piece like this, and as a starting place for a new framework/way of thinking, I agree that this simplicity can have a place and be effective and develop from there. But it's key that Blair starts with a recognition of that; and while I still think the inclusive language throughout could have been better, it wasn't altogether left out and that does matter. 

 

Other than that note on language, I found this to be such an easy read. The points she makes are all short, clear, accessible in structure and in the way they build on each other, so that when it gets to the more meaty arguments partway through, it's got enough baseline and buy-in for them not to be an immediate turn-off to more skeptical readers. There was also a significant amount of data, as well as some short anecdotes, and enough humor to keep what is really a very serious and frightening discussion light enough to keep a less invested reader moving through. Plus, the visual formatting was fantastic. There was some repetition for sure, some repetition for sure, but since each "argument" is individually succinct, and salient (and considering the intended audience)…it’s mostly ok. There are also a few sweeping generalizations all throughout, and yet, again, since the book is working to make some major and important points, it is possibly fair that the exceptions to those rules are not incredibly necessary to acknowledge in detail here. Though, I felt it worth noting as a reviewer nonetheless. Sort of related here, I really felt like the book came into its own at about the midway point, as the questions/thoughts and arguments themselves were able to get deeper and more complex, building on previously made/accepted points. And the way Blair ended with suggestions and action steps for what you can do to help move this thinking forward is lovely and very much appreciated. I always struggle when books trying to make a point or change a system don’t include that kind of thing - if you've taken the time to convince me, as a reader, that your POV is right, and successfully did so(!), then take just a little more time to help me find what to do next, becasue otherwise I'm unfulfilled and anxious. 

 

There were a few of the arguments that really spoke to me and I want to just mention them for posterity. First, a few different times Blair mentions that birth control for male bodies is both less risky and easier to access than options for female bodies. And within one of those arguments, she speaks about the downplaying of women’s pain (in IUD insertion not getting pain management is standard, but in the similarly invasive and usually lower-pain-reported vasectomy always gets it). Now, I can only speak to IUD insertion, but this was very validating for me personally. I've had three IUDs and two have been very unpleasant removal/insertion experiences, but afterwards, I never even considered asking for pain management in the future, I just felt weak, having accepted that it's a thing I should just be able to “grin and bear.” I'm still grappling now with the norms that made me feel that way, but I want to just say thank you to this book, for letting me release a breath over my internalized shame there, and maybe start to work through it. There was one other concept that really spoke to me (in Argument 13: "Men cause all unwanted pregnancies."), as it is a concept past what I’ve ever considered and I loved the reframing: that orgasm is not necessary for penetration to be considered sex and THUS unprotected sex without a male finishing is still sex but doesn’t carry that huge risk of unwanted pregnancy. Like, OMG. Because it’s still sex if women don’t orgasm so why not the other way around?! That was a mind-opener for me. And one more note on specific arguments. I appreciated the *looking directly in the eyes* of the scarier things we try to ignore and downplay (for many reasons), like the actual pain and danger of pregnancy and childbirth. It can be wonderful and terrible at the same time, but while we tend to focus on all the good, we never look too hard at the inherent risks that are always there (whether the pregnancy is planned or not). It's important to face these things directly, because not doing so is stunting our ability to fully and appropriately address issues related to them (by ignoring the risks, we don't have to admit that forcing someone to continue an unwanted pregnancy is as dangerous as it actually is, and therefore, we aren't accurately confronting the issue). 

 

Overall, y'all, what a primer! I really feel like there is something for (almost) everyone to learn in this. Even for myself, who is invested in these topics professionally as well as personally, I had a few "ah ha!" moments and it has really helped me distill some points I already knew/believed down into more concise and accessible for use in future interactions with other people. It was just truly a convincing and straightforward and approachable set of arguments and discussion points, presented in such an easy and quick format. I can see many applications for this book as we work to actually try to make some shifts in public thought on this. 

 

 “Would men really choose a few moments of slightly more pleasure over risking a woman's whole life?" 

 

“If someone tells you to do an irresponsible thing, and you choose to do that irresponsible thing, that’s on you.” (Plus, the ever-important concept that all irresponsible actions are not equal!) 

  

“If your bodily fluids have the potential to harm your partner, it's your responsibility to ensure they don’t.” (We see it this way for STI transmission, so why not for pregnancy?) 

 

“We, men and women, have a huge blind spot when it comes to men and birth control. Men assume women will do all the work of pregnancy prevention, that a woman will take responsibility for her own body and the man's body, and women assume women will do it, too.” 

 

"If you focus on dramatically reducing the number of irresponsible ejaculations, you will dramatically reduce the number of unwanted pregnancies, and you will dramatically reduce the number of abortions."  (That upriver approach tho.) 

 

“Motherhood [parenting] is hard, and demanding it for others, while being unwilling to do it yourself, is not okay.” 

 

I was browsing through NetGalley months ago when the cover of this one caught my eye, and the description was intriguing enough that I requested it. So first, thanks to NetGalley and Grand Central Publishing for granting said request. And then, I actually happened upon a physical ARC that had been sent to the library that was up for grabs, so I had oodles of ways to read this...and it still took me until months after publication to actually get to it. Best laid plans and all that... 

 

Years ago, when she was 13 years old, Ruthy Ramirez disappeared after track practice without a trace. And over a decade later, the rest of the Ramirez women - her older sister Jessica, her younger sister Nina, and her mother Dolores - are all still deeply affected by the mystery of what happened to her, as well as the daily mundanities and trials of their individual lives. When Jessica spots someone she is sure is Ruthy, on a late night reality tv show, she sets into motion an amateur family sleuthing project, tracking down details and making a plan to drive to the show's shooting location and bring maybe-Ruthy back home. Whether or not the woman in the show actually is Ruthy or not, the road trip and subsequent reckoning will force the family to finally face the past and deal with what's next. 

 

Well, in addition to all the other copies of this I had, I waited long enough to read it that I was also able to get the audiobook from my library. So to just really quickly start with that listening experience, Jiménez narrates herself and I really enjoyed it. There was a spoken word quality to her performance that adds great rhythm and expression to the storytelling. I had to listen at a much slower rate than I normally do, as a result, but it was worth it. As for the writing itself, and the narration most definitely deepened this impression, it was incredibly raw. There was so much emotion and personality in it, stylistically. Although I felt like, at times, there was also a choppiness to it, that grew on me as I read/listened, and by the end I could see the way that, too, fit the energy of the book. 

 

I also really liked the way this novel was told from the perspectives of each of the Ramirez women, including a "day of the disappearance" unfolding from Ruthy's perspective. Each of the women had a strong, distinct voice (Dolores' in particular was quite robust, and really reminded me of the live-wire-ness of the MC/narrator in How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water, which I loved). And for Ruthy, I loved the look we got at the typical, everyday things she was enjoying and dealing with on that final day. It provides a heartbreaking look at the lost girls - brown and Black girls specifically - that don't make the big headlines that get public attention and support. And that they are complex and real and human in all the same ways and despite the greatness or smallness of whatever their lives are, they deserve the same care and attention and support. Jiménez takes this even further with Jessica and Nina's perspectives, that of those who are left behind and/or who face their own hidden traumas because of cultural norms, shame and stigma of talking about it. The way she is able to portray the ways they too are lost/missing - in the cracks - in their own unique ways, is spectacularly affecting. 

 

Overall, this novel was more about the family and their reactions than it was about the sudden reappearance of Ruthy and tracking her down. And while I'm not against that, it did feel just a bit different than advertised, so I'm just sharing for future reader awareness. And I do want to leave this review with the feeling the novel left me with. The pain of everlasting hope for a "happy" ending, without the closure that would allow one to move one from that, is palpable here. Jiménez presents here a devastating face-on consideration of how the many people who live this as a daily reality move through that pain. This is fiction reflective of, and with commentary on, reality at its finest.    

 

“I strongly believe that we all should be able to choose our own ways to be ashamed.” 

 

"Say something is bigger than you, like much bigger, like a lot; is it really your fault if you cannot stop it?" 

 

“How many girls in the world were there who looked like Ruthy, talked like Ruthy? Laughed like her? How many of us were missing?” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was looking to mix things up a little bit with my reading... This has been kind of a strange year for me, as far as reading moods go. I've been learning light and magical, but throwing in some heavy nonfiction, and all of a sudden, I just wanted something totally different. So, I grabbed this sort of mystery/thriller. It seemed like it would fit the bill of "outside my normal genre," but with an interesting and unique kind of twist (a woman leading a double life), and with a scary-level that didn't seem like it would keep me up all night (a low bar, tbh). And it turned out I was very right. 

 

Cassie Bowman is trying to get her writing career off the ground, scouring the internet for ever more unbelievable true crime stories and that she is nominally paid to blog about. During a search one day, she stumbles on an article about Lore Rivera, who was married to two men at once (one in Texas, one in Mexico City), until she was found out and one of her husband's shot and killed the other. Cassie cannot get Lore out of her mind: How did she balance both lives? What was the weight of the secrets and lies? Why did she do it? So, Cassie reaches out. She suggests to Lore than she'll write a book about her experience, but do it from her perspective, so that Lore can tell her own story, in her own way. To her surprise, Lore agrees. And as Lore's history unfolds for cassie in their nightly calls, Cassie finds herself opening up to Lore in ways that she never has with anyone before. And together they reckon with their pasts and find it in themselves to finally face their truths.  

 

Like I said, I was right. This had just enough mystery/thriller tension and secrets and a few final twists to keep me flipping pages to see where things would go, but not so much that it ever felt breakneck. And, it kept the plot moving and interesting while never sacrificing the development of the characters, especially Cassie and Lore. Because oh my goodness, I loved their development as it unfolded alongside the "true crime" aspects. How the characters each got to that point of drama and loss at the end, through all the tiny decisions and big decisions and avoidance of truths and pretending things are different and not knowing what to do and knowing it will end with pain but moving forwards anyways... They were so real - fully dimensional in ways that were messy and nuanced and real. It was great to see them "allowed" to be whoever they were, in all their complexities and soft spots and flaws; to own their darker parts and still be worthy of redemption and success, to deserve consideration and to tell their stories for themselves. 

 

For Cassie, confronting her past, her memories and guilt over the decisions she made, allowed her to accept herself, and show who she really was to the people closest to her (finally), without secrets or holding back. And though I truly loathed some of the victim blaming when it happened (that is *exactly* why no one feels safe/able to talk about what’s happening to them), it does reflect reality. And the way things worked out after that felt like the "right" ending: cutting free in some places, with unclear futures in other places, but with much less suppression and compromise for Cassie herself. So, I felt better about it. For Lore, oh what a phenomenal commentary on how womanhood can be, IS, more than just motherhood. And that should be, IS, ok. While in retrospect one can see the slippery slope of her decisions and how they led to such a tragic outcome (she definitely allowed herself a few blind spots), and watching the unfolding of this story as the tension rises to a crescendo and starts to break was super stressful, there is also a clear message about how empathy - and different societal norms - may have prevented the need she felt for such dramatic choices. 

 

Truly, I loved the way this book examined how love can encompass so much more than the typical socially acceptable patterns/expectations. And past that, how that expansion can allow a person to expand and explore (parts of) themselves in one life that they couldn’t find space for in another life. I found this read to be much more emotional than I had expected, to a level that really surprised me. I think Cassie and Lore, separately and in relation to each other, really did that. But then, the family dynamics as well, all of them, were so good. Not always happy/positive, but so well written. And that, in combination with a final twist that I really didn't see coming until right before it happened, made this a much deeper and more compelling read than anticipated.   

 

 “What happens when two people, for one night, close a great distance, and want to do it again?” 

 

“The thing about a spontaneous act, is that the consequences are long lasting.” 

 

“Because people aren’t just murdered in moments; they're murdered in all the moments leading up to that final act. That's what makes true crom so addictive. Godlike, you're allowed to see the intricate chain of events leading to the end of someone's life. You realize that everything you do, every decision you make, might bring you, too, closer to the abyss. Briefly, your own life feels precious.” 

 

"It was a different kind of yearning. A nameless suspicion that there was more to herself than she'd ever accessed, and only by falling in love could she discover it, for only then do we become new to ourselves again.” 

 

"That perhaps not every affair is about lack in the primary relationship; perhaps some are about a complement. Perhaps multiple relationships can illuminate different parts of the self, like a prism turned first this way, then that, toward the light. Perhaps to love and allow love from only one person at a time is to trap the self into a single, frozen version, and it's this that makes us look elsewhere." 

 

“But that was all of us, wasn't it? Facades upon facades, only some were more damaging to believe than others.” 

 

“We should be able to stop ourselves from destroying the people we love. Love itself should not be a destructive force. But I'd been reading true crime all my life: love was the most destructive force.” 

 

“Truth is a malleable thing.” 

 

This is another example of a recent book (just like Big Swiss), that I would not have really been aware of, nor planned to pick up, without it being offered as an ALC from Libro.fm. But conceptually, after reading the blurb, I was really intrigued. It is clear to anyone paying attention that certain groups or types of people get the benefit of the doubt (in almost any situation) and some absolutely do not (and even more extreme, are facing an uphill battle from that start). And so, other than the clear cultural and social biases that must make up at least part of that, what else is happening that causes that unevenness is who is taken seriously? So yea, this was very much a topic that intrigued me. I wanted to know what Nayeri's research found. 

 

 In this book, Nayeri explores the power of performance, persuasion, repetition and how those affect what people perceive as truth or lies, and whose stories/testimonies gets believed or dismissed. She uses personal examples, such as a family member with mental illnesses and deep religious belief (including more "extreme" examples, like speaking in tongues), time spent in high-powered business world consulting jobs, and childbirth. And she weaves those in with interviews with others who work in emergency rooms, justice systems and, at the heart of it all: asylum seekers and those tasked with defending them (lawyers) and deciding on the "truth" of their lives. Throughout, there is also quite a bit of research, examination of language and psychology, and philosophical thought exercises that work to pull all the disparate stories and examples and situations together into a more cohesive presentation. 

 

Before I say anything about the book itself, or my thoughts on it, I need to make sure everyone is aware of how many content warnings this should have come with. I mean, this jumps in *hard* right off the bat with graphic descriptions of torture, and they are referred back to consistently throughout. Also, as one goes through, there are many other instances of graphic descriptions of mental illness and suicide, pregnancy/childbirth (and in general interactions with medical staff), other forms of violence against populations and bodies (like FGM), wrongful convictions and failures of the justice system, and just generally there is no sugar coating the traumas of dealing with being a refugee whether it be in adjusting to a new place or the myriad legal/procedural barriers and disbelief that they face. So yea, this is definitely a book that readers should be very careful about and sure they are prepared for the content before picking it up. 

 

Alright, so now for my thoughts. Overall, this book felt like too much. It felt like an overwhelming stream of consciousness connections between theory and philosophy and real life examples and family stories just barely woven together in a followable way. And the thing is, I get that people are complex and contain multitudes and all these thoughts and personal experiences and interviews and explorations may be both a part of Nayeri's life and somehow have gotten woven together for her, but this just may have tried to get too many of those multitudes into one book. All throughout, I was waiting to see if everything would build to a bigger point, and, though the message is obvious, it just never came together as coherently as I would have liked. There’s also a lot of repetition, conceptually and at a sentence-level, and I think this could use some more stringent editing. And really, there were a number of times when I couldn't tell what was legitimate data/science and what was her personal logic path and reasoning, which ironically made it hard to know what to give the most credence to. 

 

I will say, and I think that this is key, that the overall concept of this book, the idea that there are certain types of stories, ways of telling those stories, and categories of people that are more "believable" - for reasons that have nothing to do with the truth and everything to do with how a person performs/presents - is an undeniable truth that absolutely needs to be reckoned with, because otherwise justice will never be done. It was infuriating to read how "proper" storytelling, and a learned/taught performance of credibility (a combination of poise and language choice and external look that lends credence regardless of the actual knowledge/truth of the person), holds more weight than truth in whether a person is believed. Nayeri presents a number of examples to prove this, across industry and situation, and provides research and poses myriad thought experiments to back up those claims. Some of what she discusses was not a surprise to me (like the absolute lack of training, or follow through on using training, in understanding how trauma survivors and memory work - only used when the person with power individually decides to give "benefit of the doubt," but not universally/evenly applied), but some of it did add fascinating context and nuance to my understanding (like the power of repetition - how many times something is said or printed - in making it believable, even when there is nothing factual behind it/backing it up). I use the word fascinating because the exploration of human psychology and sociology really was, but again, it was also deeply enraging to be shown over and over how the truth is not enough if the systems/society are against you. I mean, what then, is the point of those systems? What will it take to change them to do what they are supposed to be doing (protecting the vulnerable, the one's currently least believed)?? 

 

A few final thoughts. Although this was a (much) more serious book, I think there was some real overlap, topically, with Cultish. The way language and the power of words/personality can lead to buy-in, as well as a look at how the differences among self-convincing done to nefarious/self-benefitting ends or as a more legitimate self-denial, or is it something that happens when the truth is too much (too terrible, too coincidental) to feel real or the repetition of terrible things becomes too much to handle and one has to self-distance - there was a lot of similarity there that, if you can handle the increased intensity here, you may be interested in if you liked Cultish. And I thought the cross-industry comparisons brought up some really interesting parallels, like how the “right" way to tell a story or present a need to get the result one wants works similarly in situations as vastly different as asylum cases and chronic pain/drug seeking (or other medical situations related to mental health) and religious belief. I appreciated the way that Nayeri was so willing to recognize and call out her own limitations in belief, where she got cynical, and these psychological traps that she has fallen into. I really did. And. I really struggled reading her outlook on her brother-in-law’s mental health, the way it seemed that (despite all her knowledge and research in this area), she appeared to lack any kind of empathy or even willingness to try to consider it a real illness/problem. 

 

I am having so much trouble trying to communicate my thoughts on this reading experience. The evidence presented is sweeping, convincing, and drives home a deeply important societal reality about believability as/achieved by performance. And at the same time, it felt so choppy, so thrown together. So, for all that it is ambitious and salient and necessary, it also isn't executed to the level that I would have liked or that would have had the desired impact. Plus, there’s never even an attempt to suggest ways to address/fix the issues that are being argued. And that's really really too bad. (Has anyone else read this? What did you think? Am I wrong? Did you want it to hit harder too? Does this review make you want to, or do you plan to, read this anyways? I want to discuss!) 

 

 

"It’s hard to be objective from inside this feeble human mind." 

 

“To be believed is to know the signals.” 

 

“But it’s risky to say something simply, concretely, to have it judged on its content and remembered as yours.” 

 

“Before we decide how to listen to a story, we put people on a spectrum. Do they come to us with need or with potential? Should we listen with our guard up or our imagination on? Will aligning with this person benefit or drain us? How does the storyteller signal, even before that first interaction, that they are worthy of an unguarded, imaginative listen?” 

 

“The code works; it’s just that only a few of us are trained in it.” (few = privileged and powerful and fighting to keep it that exclusive) 

 

“Today's asylum officers are instructed to dig out inconsistencies. Trained to disbelieve, they demand a perfect performance...” (And isn’t that the opposite of what should be the point?) 

 

“Most human conversation is inconsistent, and inexact. This is how the trap works. It takes discipline to repeat an answer again and again, the precise way you said it before. [For torture survivors], fear makes consistency even less likely.” 

 

"Each culture has their own ideas of what a 'real' victim sounds like." 

 

“Just as grief performance is shaped by culture, so is all storytelling. But it is also singular. Stories worth telling are created by our relationships with culture - they are strange, unrepeatable. That's what makes them worth telling.” (So how does this translate to situations of accuracy/believability?) 

 

“It’s an age-old problem; every pain is only truly felt by one person. We are programmed to intuit our own suffering, to salve our own wounds.” 

 

"Those who are systematically disbelieved always come out defenses first." 

 

“Familiarity breeds empathy.” / “We want others’ pain to mirror our own; sensory recall removes our doubt.” 

 

“Sometimes, in desperate moments, we are exactly the thing we’re pretending to be.” 

 

“Fairy tale speech acts work if the powerful want them to work.” 

 

“It can take decades to unwrite a story that was crafted in hours.” and the related “…once something enters the record, it's impossible to pry it out, and once there is any kind of narrative, the system from hunting near and far for truth, to proving or disproving that narrative, however silly it might be.” 

 

“How do you know if you have a bad heart, when you’ve only had the one?” 

 

“We’ve relaxed into our shortcuts, and we’re primed to be fooled.” 

 

“We all look to verify what we think we know.” 

 

 

Well, this is one book that's been sitting on my TBR for awhile. I've been following Taussig (@sitting_pretty) in IG for years and the confluence of Disability Pride month in July and finding a copy at my local used bookstore (and realizing that Hoopla had the audiobook!) meant the time was now! 

 

This collection of essays blends memoir, theory, and a bit of research/data to paint a full, and accessible, look at the reality of disability, being disabled and disability rights in the US. As Taussig points out, many times (and rightfully so), hers is just one perspective in a tapestry of individual lives and experiences with disability, one that is shaped - not insignificantly - by the other privileges she has (being white, educated, employed, cisgender and straight, etc.). But it does function as a fantastic, compulsively readable, primer for those who are not disabled (nor caregivers for the disabled) themselves. Taussig tells the reader all about growing up without the full use of her legs and then moving into the majority of her time spent in a wheelchair. She talks about her friends and summer camp jobs and crushes, as well as the pressing fears of not being loved, of being a burden, of how to pay for her body, of how to navigate in a world that is not at all set up for someone with a (any) disability. And she intersperses these stories with history and policy and conversations and advocacy and myriad other insights that take this past "just" a memoir and into the realm of introductory social science and social justice. 

 

There is something really special about Taussig's writing. It's the kind of writing that is so personable that it makes you feel like she's actually there, having this incredible and educational conversation with you (probably in my case helped along by the fact that I also listened to the audiobook, which she read herself). She is open and honest about some places she has struggled and some of the less than complementary reactions/thoughts of her own that she's had, which makes it so much less painful (which is perhaps not a relief we all deserve) to confront some/many of the places where we have fallen short as disability allies. Plus, it's all so lightly and humorously presented, despite the fact that she holds no punches as far as how deeply she is critiquing the current systems and infrastructures.   

 

If you have never really considered how a person with a disability might navigate in the world that's been built without them in mind and/or how effective any policy changes to make things more accessible have been, this is a great first read to introduce these topics in a broad sweep, but still with nuance and a personal touch. Even for someone like myself that has already read some on this topic, there is always something new to learn or a unique perspective to consider. And I found that Taussig had a number of compelling moments on that note. In particular, I thought she had a thorough discussion of the connection between media portrayals of disabilities and how that informs the way the world treats disability (from physical structure to policy to social assumptions). It was difficult to read, but important, to see how even at a young age it affected her deeply. And how on the flip side, with the high schoolers she teaches now, it is so ingrained that even malleable brains like theirs struggle to see another way. 

 

I also enjoyed the commentary she had about the universal truth of having a body, the compromises we all must make for its health and safety and survival (some more than others of course), and the way that if we have less issues with that part of our lives, it’s easy to look away from/ignore how something devastating could happen at any moment and how we *truly* aren’t any more protected (financially, socially, knowledgeably, etc) due to a history of a “healthier” body. It was honestly a terrifying thing to consider. But a deeply important concept. This naturally flowed into a look at the idea of universal design (as I first really read about in Beyond Gender) and the fact that life doesn't have to be and, in fact, is not a zero sum game (as The Sum of Us details gorgeously). The way Taussig presents that we'd all benefit from more flexibility and accessibility makes it just feel...obvious. And that seems like the mark of a great "argument" (as it were). 

 

I really loved the chapter where she reckons with how her own identities, of womanhood and disability, overlap and contrast and are either encompassed by (or not) the feminist movement, both from a policy and environment perspective. It was elucidate and heartbreaking to read about the complexities of her personal experiences of feeling left out and secret/shameful joy when included even in the bad things (i.e. catcalling). It was so breathtakingly honest and cuts all the deeper for it. And, I was appreciative of the way she examined, and gave examples of what would be better, what it means to be accessible, what is actually helpful versus what "seems" helpful or is a surface-level fix that doesn't address the actual need to take the person's dignity into account. (Plus, her point about making sure that those accessibility options are financially available to anyone who needs them is key.) This too followed a natural flow, again, to the concepts of universal design and accommodations that would actually benefit everyone. And it happened alongside a concept that harkens back to my reading of Haben Girma’s memoir, Haben, (and a concept that is fictionally explored in Solomon's Sorrowland as well), in which Taussig recognizes how accommodations like glasses are so ubiquitous now that vision impairment isn’t seen as a disability in the same way as it used to be (or closed captioning for tv/videos) and, reasonably, asks why it isn’t possible to do that elsewhere too. 

 

I had two major takeaways from this, other than loving the writing and being surprised and a bit disappointed when I was finished with the book so fast (I wanted more!). The first is a hard truth: that it seemed, on the whole, that even from childhood, exhaustion was a primary theme in Taussig's life. And that exhaustion came more from living in a world not built for her, that the burden of existing in the world in her body is more than the burden of the body itself. Can we really not do better than that? The second is one that leaves some hope. Taussig reiterated over and over that just a little imagination can create so many new ideas and options that could create a better and more inclusive world. Even if we aren't doing well now, as humanity, we can get creative and use all the power of that ubiquitous imagination and potential and innovation to find and make something more. And that is encouraging.  

 

“The idea that some of us are firmly fixed in the "able-bodied" category is a fiction. A world built on speed, productivity, more, more, more! and far too few bathrooms (and bathroom breaks) does not consider or care for the actual bodies we live in. In other words, ableism affects all of us, whether we consider ourselves disabled or not. Because the disabled body is most powerfully affected by ableism, it is the first to cast a light on the structure, to resist and protest it, to call for its public execution, but we're all living under its dictates. Ableism punishes all of us.” 

 

“Ableism separates, isolates, assumes. It's starved for imagination, creativity, and curiosity. It's fueled by fear. It oppresses. All of us.” 

 

“Instead of disability as the limitation, what if a lack of imagination was the actual barrier? It's our affinity for familiarity that traps us. Our impulse to adhere to that which came before. To stick with the script, follow instructions, keep with the norms. I think the assumption is that this will keep us safe. But the truth is, of course, we are never safe.” 

 

“A group is marginalized because society marginalizes them. Society also has the power to change that. What would it mean for disabled folks if society saw us as acceptable, equal, valuable parts of the whole?” 

 

“I live in a culture that uses my form as a symbol, a shorthand, an illustration for something else - weakness, captivity, and victimization or super strength, triumph and feel-good inspiration. Even if I do claim a narrative all my own, when I go out in public, I can feel others' stories written all over my body - stories I didn't and would never choose for myself. [...] Our stories continually reduce disability into something small - a trinket to manipulate - as if an experience as sweeping, rambling, layered, contradictory, ordinary, vibrant and human as disability could be reduced to something so one-dimensional.” 

 

“So many of us agree to these rules, even as we know we don't thrive there. We're rewarded when we fit tidily into the parameters set before us, so we pretend, mask, and go along with it as best we can. Those who simply cannot fit are highlighted as outsiders who need something extra to make it work. Instead of looking at the larger, varied collection of humans on a team and creating a structure that accounts for their real experiences, needs, desires, and motivations, so often work systems prefer to dispense the smallest portions of flexibility to the ones who simply cannot fake it any longer [...] I'm glad employers are required by law to dispense those small portions of flexibility. It's invaluable change. It's also entirely limited by the larger environment - the larger cultural values surrounding work and the people in charge - that houses it.” 

 

“Maybe the tender center of what I'm trying to say is this: there's something disorienting about being both a Woman and Disabled.” 

 

“Nuance is harder to rally around or shout from a megaphone, but it's also sturdier and more sustainable.” 

 

“When I imagine the shape of kindness that actually feels like kindness, it necessarily includes the pieces of this moment with [Amanda]: dignity and an unwavering understanding that falling is not the worst thing that can happen to a person.” 

 

“When I take a beat and look around, I don't know where my personal insecurities end and ableism picks up. [...] I mean - really - what would happen if I stumbled onto some alternate universe made perfectly accessible to me? It's hard to imagine such an unfamiliar flow of confidence, self-assuredness, and ease.” 

 

“My experience of inaccessibility is cumulative. [...] It's a way of being in the world, or just outside of the world. [...] Inaccessibility over time tells me that I do not matter, am not wanted, do not belong.” 

 

And I'm caught up! Though it looks like Volume Five will be published later this year and I will definitely be continuing with this series, because after the first two volumes it has really picked up! I definitely sped right through this in a single (possibly less than an hour) sitting. And it hit the spot. 

 

This is just a continuous story carried over volumes, so this picks up right where the third left us. But, with a major perspective switch to start. This installation opens with the background on and character development for Hades that I have been waiting for (perhaps why I liked it so much, tbh). We get to see deeper into some of his insecurities, stemming from wanting something serious but (due to his position) tamping it down or taking what he can get, because he assumes no one would want to be with him. Between that and the trivialization of his romantic dreams from both his brothers (Zeus and Poseidon), it all very much explains why he is in (and stays in) such an unhealthy - really emotionally abusive - relationship with Minthe. Really, all that elaboration on his history is really kinda heartbreaking (and as a reader, I have all the more emotional investment in his successful outcome with Persephone now - a perfect opposites attract). 

 

I also remain thrilled to see the ever more fully dimensional Persephone. Her emotional range and standing up for herself and just generally having more and varied feelings was everything I thought she was missing earlier and love it here. Like you go girl, with the shutting down of Apollo's horrific emotional manipulation. The entire flashback to her first meeting with Ares, and then "re-meeting" in real time here, was similarly good, as far as building that dimension and flushing out her story. I also have to say that, while fairly heartbreaking, it was great development writing to see her trying to deal with everything (specifically related to Apollo and her future with TGOEM) on her own and keeping it on the DL. I mean, I hope over time she finds a way to talk to more people about it and get support, but it's a very realistic emotional journey and I'm glad she's getting that.  

 

And of course, the centerpiece relationship: Hades and Persephone together. *Big* yes on that front here. It is a deliciously slow burn, first of all. Alongside that, they are talking (at least a bit more openly) about their feelings and concerns, but still with their own shit they're playing more close to the chest. It's a great balance. And the playful and yearning interactions are too sweet. Plus, Persephone is already making Hades work on himself more, which is awesome because he deserves that in general, but it's also leading him towards benevolence and respect elsewhere because he sees goodness and a reason to in her and just...oh my heart. 

 

A last few thoughts... This is like candy for the eyes, color wise. It's just so fun, stylistically. Though, there are still some panels where the characters' features change enough (or resemble another’s so much) that I can’t pinpoint who they are for a bit. It's slightly disconcerting but overall doesn't take away too much - the context of the words and interactions helps place them reasonably quickly. The story arc is really coming into its own and feeling much less scattered and disconnected and confusing. So that's awesome. And I'm personally looking forward to more on the secret fertility goddess plot line and how that plays out. Plus, all the bonus side plot stories (because when talking about Mount Olympus and the gods, there is *so much* drama to choose from and adapt), Smythe does a great job keeping all that ridiculous (and careless) sleeping around and family drama, but doing it in a way that doesn’t make you hate *all* of them (exceptions being Apollo, and Zeus, of course), or at least complicates the hate with other reaction and dimension.       

 

Unputdownable fourth volume. Really looking forward to the fifth now! 

 

“Joking aside, being optimistic doesn’t make you naive. / You see things not for what they are, but for what they could be.” 

 

 This has been on my TBR list for...so long. And I have almost read it so many times, but it's just never happened. Until... I got the (apparently) final nudge from another book. I just recently read Kiss Her Once for Me by Alison Cochrun (yes, I know, it's a Holiday romance and I definitely read it in the summer, I am who I am) and the book our OTP "bond" over during their bookstore meet cute is, you guessed it, Fun Home. And I was just finally ready to know what it was about for myself. 

 

This is basically a seminal memoir in queer history, and perhaps graphic novel history (though I know less about that myself), in which Bechdel gives an unflinching view into her relationship with her father and the role he played in her formative years, for better and worse. From the legacy of his cold distance and high expectations on her as a child to the details of his untimely (and kinda gruesome) death and his extramarital affairs with younger men (boys, in some cases) that she mostly only found out about posthumously, Bechdel unpacks with detail and insight and profound literary allusion and intelligence his part in - or the inverse mirror he was for - her own identity and coming out. 

 

Objectively, I have read a lot, of all types of books, and I feel pretty confident in my ability to "get" most things, at this point. But this...I'll be honest, reading this made me feel literally inadequate for the first time in a long time. Bechdel's writing is exquisite, the vocabulary is so intellectual (I need more than one hand to count how many words I looked up) and everything is so extremely precise, a function both of the graphic novel form (where word space is at a premium) and the exemplar of the skill of the person behind it. And then there are the mythological and literary metaphors and allusions, as well as the western philosophical inclusions and musings and comparisons. They were classical and high brow and, while I know with absolute certainty that some points sailed right over my head, what I did catch was spot on. 

 

As far as Bechdel's interrogation of her relationship with her father and family, and how those intertwined...it is clinical and intelligent in a way that is distant enough to recall the way interactions with her father felt IRL. Yet the need for that exploration to have to happen at such a distance belies, a bit, the reality of Bechdel's emotional investment in it. If it was easier for her to examine, perhaps that distance wouldn't be as necessary. Sort of along the same lines, I felt like there was something solemn in the coloring choice, a sort of monochrome with "hues of pale green" to add depth. Similar to the bichromatic/sepia tone of Palimpsest, it fits the seriousness of the topics up for discussion and pretentiousness of the events in Bechdel's formation and memory. And that all fit so well with the strange literary grotesqueness in the reality of her family's interactions against the backdrop of a funeral home and a home of gilded restoration. Just, a masterclass in vibes and delivery. 

 

I had to take my time with this graphic memoir (I've actually never read anything graphic-novel-esque this slowly before), but it was wholly necessary for me to digest the content. And I was blown away (and remain a bit dazed, to be honest) by it all. But in the "good" way. What a writer, what a memoir! 

 

“He used his skillful artifice not to make things, but to make things appear to be what they were not.” 

 

“If only they made smelling salts to induce grief-stricken swoons, rather than snap you out of them.” 

 

“Causality implies connection, contact of some kind. And however convincing they might be, you can't lay hands on a fictional character.” (In speaking about her father and any role her coming out may have played in his death, and what a sentiment, hits - not to be insensitive - like a truck). 

 

“While I was trying to compensate for something unmanly in him...he was attempting to express something feminine through me.” (The way they formed around and due to each other is such a crux of this memoir in a painful, but absolutely human and real and unavoidable, way.) 

 

“I suppose that a lifetime spent hiding one's erotic truth could have a cumulative renunciatory effect. Sexual shame is in itself a kind of death.” 

 

I have absolutely no idea how this book came across my radar originally. Probably while doom-scrolling on bookstagram, but I didn't save any posts or reviews, so I got nothing now. Anyways, I know for sure I was drawn in by the title, so I Googled it, and learned that dyscalculia (at least to my understanding) is like dyslexia for numbers. Fascinating. Mostly the only other thing I caught was that this was a memoir, but I'm usually into those (especially if they cover situations/themes I haven't encountered much before...enter dyscalculia), so onto the TBR it went. 

 

In Dyscalculia, Felix opens with going through a life-altering breakup, a relationship that basically imploded. This experience opens into an entire revisiting and processing of her childhood trauma and mental health (content warning for sexual abuse/rape, in-hospital stays for mental illness, and a variety of interactions with menal health care providers and systems). As a framework for this exploration of pain and heartbreak and breaking down and healing, Felix uses mathematics, and her relationship with it, to illustrate the philosophies and (mis)calculations of love and relationships and her own life. 

 

So, I went into this expecting a more "traditionally" written memoir, primarily because I didn't know about Felix's history, as it were, as a poet. But, as with all more prose style works that I have read by poets (like One Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous and A Bound Woman is a Dangerous Thing and The End We Start From), I got such a different reading experience from it, more like a lyrical journey, a feeling, than a linear "story of a life." And I loved that. The writing was stunning. Such an elegiac communication of the myriad overlapping and contradicting emotions and fallout of heartbreak and trauma. The way she is processing her life and identity and feelings on page in words is devastating, in all that ways that word can be interpreted (destructive, gorgeous, shattering, dazzling). It's the kind of writing that you have to reread and/or re-listen to (I did both) parts of in order to really find everything she's trying to say. And even still, the individuality of every readers' life/background means that there will always be something we’re missing because we are on the outside, but for some reason that creates not distance but connection here. 

 

Topically, I guess this is, as advertised, about a breakup, but honestly it's more like the memoir was spurred by one. The breakup was a catalyst, but it was never Felix’s actual story, or at least not the one she needed to tell, even though she didn’t realize that until after. I was also just as conceptually fascinated with the reality of dyscalculia, as well as how it something more intense/profound (like bipolar) might present as something like dyscalculia in a child/adolescent, as I had anticipated. In both a general sense and in the way that Felix used it as a scaffold for the book. Her mental illness and masking and diagnosis (and lack thereof) all fold together with a mathematical poetry, a lyricism of numerical language, that is complex and lovely and profound and emotional and just brings together the beauty in those two seeming opposites - numbers and letters - in such a unique and impactful way. 

 

This is a book, a memoir, a reading experience like few I've had before. And, since you can get through it in a single day (or even sitting), I really recommend giving it a try! 

 

“Children see the world clearly when they first come into it. It's circumstance that sullies the walls of our terrariums, less and less light getting in each day.” 

 

"Time is an anarchy. There are whole sections of years that have, in my mind, disappeared, time revealing its tricks to me like a cocky necromantic. The gaps are caverns of absence, temporal wormholes, where all I can recall is the sensation of being stretched between many different dimensions of crisis at once." 

 

"We are all in common crisis - lending our sex to fantasies (or delusions) of worth." 

 

"...math is the same in every language - and cause and effect is too." 

 

“…think of the soul as a string that spans the length of your lifetimes, and that string gets to see a different life every century or so, and each life is a chance, in a series of chances, to build a pathway back to the divine, to wind the string back toward your soul's ultimate home…” 

 

“Haunted by the threat of perpetual incompletion, I wanted to be able to say I did a hard thing well without being pulled to the cross about it, that I learned to bury the worst of myself for someone else's happiness, the sharp remains of my unresolved youth-hood clinging to the underbelly of my ambition, begging to be taken with.” 

 

"Love itself is an unfair bargain and most of the time it's missing the point. / Who would I be if not a woman who can run up against the tides of her cliches?" 

 

“Masking was me thinking the labor of hiding was equivalent to the labor of care, but it was a convenient lie we both let me tell.” 

 

“What I know now is that love is a chaos system dialing us into our highest selves and troubling the foundation of what makes us us. And with a chaos system, all you can control is what you can account for, whatever you can quantify and collect.” 

 

“…how numbers become shapes, and how shapes become functions, and how functions become systems, and how systems can be disrupted. If I know the line, then I know its function. And if I break the function, the system cannot survive.” 

 

“When you’re healed you tell the story differently.” 

 

 

I can't say I would have read this if it wasn't offered as an ALC from Libro.fm. Honestly, this is one of the most visually off-putting covers I have ever seen (personally...I know it's all a matter of opinion). And it does really match the off-putting-ness of the topics, so there's that. But as I was carrying my physical copy out of the library (you know I like having both), I got three separate comments from people either wanting to read it or having really enjoyed her prior books or being struck by the cover. So maybe this book is a bigger deal than I thought! Haha. 

 

Greta has just moved in with her friend, Sabine, who owns a decrepit old farmhouse in rural New York. There's no heat, and there's a beehive in the house with them, but Greta is having enough of a struggle with her life that really, she's making it work. Her days are spent transcribing the sessions of a local sex therapist and with her dog. She's mostly just coasting, until she first hears the voice of a new patient she nicknames Big Swiss, and her obsession with this stoic and sexually repressed married woman begins to form. Both Big Swiss and Greta have some truly dark and traumatic events in their pasts, but while Big Swiss holds everything at arms length to cope, Greta sort of enjoys dwelling and holding on to her own. When they meet in real life (and Greta lies about her identity), they quickly become deeply intertwined, emotionally and physically. But the unreality of the situation has to break, at some point, and with a complicated situation like this one, it's unlikely to go easily. 

 

What a weird freaking story. Like, not weird in the fantasy/sci-fi tentacles and what-happens-in-the-dark sort of way, but weird in the profoundly uncomfortable and ridiculous sort of way. One of the first little notes I made was actually "what a strange book." There is some really unique and insightful human observational content mixed with myriad uncomfortable topics within a deeply discomfiting framework. The dark quotidian humor, delivered with incredibly precise language, feels like it can only have come from someone who has direct knowledge of this specific lifestyle. So, whether Hudson, NY or old farmhouses or "retired to the country to pursue off the wall hobbies" is something Beagin has been around a lot or not, the writing makes it seem that she has, and that's impressive. It felt super tangible and with a well-appointed eye for the absurd. 

 

The whole “I know all your secrets and hidden truths, but you don’t know me at all nor know that I know” that Greta has going on was itchy-in-my-skin levels of uncomfortable for me. Side note here: I did love the nicknames Greta gave people she doesn’t know personally to delineate them. Anyways, I was essentially dread-anticipating what would happen when she’s found out until it happened, so that honestly it did feel a bit anticlimactic at that point (but I know for sure that's a "me" issue). While I found Greta’s voyeurism of Big Swiss’ therapy sessions so fascinating conceptually - to be able to hear someone’s unfettered thoughts about you, confession style, but also without shame because of the confidentiality of the setting...it mesmerized me - I was also terrified by the thought of being on either end of that in real life. The way it’s written, with Greta’s own interjections, made for a really nice structure and reading experience that toned down the discomfort marginally. And it added in some of the dark humor that every other review I've seen has centrally mentioned. The entirety of the affair between Greta and Big Swiss (their interactions both in solitude and in public), as well as Greta's living situation, had the exact same mix of discomfort and dark humor. Overall, Beagin nailed the literary vibes she was going for. They were consistent and strong and (imo) took what My Year of Rest and Relaxation did to a whole new level. 

 

Quick content warning for violence/physical assault, suicide and suicidal indeation and attempts, and animal injury. 

 

The story itself wrapped up about as well as it could have, considering the relational and personal issues central to the plot and the characterizations. I honestly don’t mind an open ended finish, since that’s pretty realistic here, but just, I’m not sure how I feel about this closing, when all is said and done. And in general, although I think I have used all these words enough times already that my opinion about this book has been quite established, this was a ridiculous, uncomfortable, anxiety-ridden reading experience, with really meticulous, high quality writing. It absolutely will not be for everyone, may not actually have been for me, but I really respect what Beagin created here.   

 

“Because, well, the pain is rarely in the actual words, which nine times out of ten are imprecise, or the wrong words altogether. People are almost never articulate about their pain, as I'm sure you've noticed. Their pain can only really be felt in the pauses…” 

 

“…but maybe one was never too old for a little behavioral modification.”