Another Aspen Words Literary Prize 2022 Longlist read finished! This is my seventh of the sixteen and, as is a pattern with these Aspen Words books, I ended up being much more interested and invested in the story than I would have thought, based on the blurb. Which, honestly, is why I'm continuing with this reading journey/challenge for another year, and even after the shortlist announcement has been made. 

 

Asha Ray is a super intelligent coder, in a grad school program looking to revolutionize AI by adding empathy to their programming. But her entire life trajectory changes when she attends a funeral for a high school teacher and runs into Cyrus Jones, her high school crush. The chemistry between Asha and Cyrus is strong and, in a whirlwind, they are married. Cyrus' role as a sort of spiritual guide for those around him inspire Asha to start on a new coding project that leads to them joining forces with a third person (their now mutual friend Jules), Asha dropping out of school, and them joining a new age co-working space called Utopia that incubates creative solutions for end-of-the-world/apocalypse situations. After the typical initial "start-up" stress/drama, their ritual-creation platform hits the bigtime, Cyrus is being hailed as a Messiah, Asha's pivotal role in the platform's creation is downplayed, and their marriage is facing some challenges that it may not be able to survive. 

 

This has really nothing to do with the rest of the review, but I really am not feeling this cover. I walked by this book on the "new" shelf at the library a number of times before finally talking myself into picking it up, because I just wasn't connecting with the look. That being said, what I got on the inside ended up being so much better - so here I sit, a great reminder to not judge a book by its cover. Anyways, let me start by saying that the writing was stunning; it was alive, electric! It was an amazing mix of classic literary and contemporary snark/intelligence. I couldn’t get enough of it. Pacing-wise, the beginning and end were super engaging and surprisingly edge-of-your-seat (well, at the beginning it was a surprise to me, but by the end, the tension build throughout was coming to a head and the anxiety in the plot/relationships was expected…and well delivered). The middle did slow a bit for me, not quite to a drag, but it did have less of the apprehension and tightness to it, so it felt a bit uneven. 

 

The thematic content was incredibly timely and salient for the world we live in. I am a women neither in tech nor in a startup, but I am a woman…and the way Anam portrays that experience through both Asha’s self-diminishment and external minimization (despite have what felt like the best possible masculine co-founders at her side, which is really saying even more than if everyone was equally dismissive of her/unwilling to recognize her contributions) felt familiar despite my lack of direct connection to her specific experiences. There was a great conundrum of agency put forward, built to perfection as the plot unfolded: how much does one have the power to allow something to happen to themself versus how much power one actually has to stop it in a world/environment set up in opposition to it. Wow. Watching those close relationships in Asha’s life, especially with her husband Cyrus, grapple with the high-pressure situations/environments where home life cannot be separated from other parts of life, interpersonal conflicts spill over into workplace decision-making and vice versa, was fascinating.  

 

I was also totally drawn in by the questions of technological ambition and limits of power and the realm of what goes past what *should* be attempted, against any historical interest in those types of philosophical conversations. Anam made them really accessible and relatable (kind of on par with the vibe and accessibility of similar questions related to tech and romance in Pek’s The Verifiers). And the “big” questions, like: What matters in life? What is the point, in the end, when everything you know is gone/changes? What will you do with the terror and opportunity of starting over? They were intense, but explored in a way that never felt overwhelming or pedantic – very “real life” applications of these questions. 

 

This was a conceptually intriguing novel on so many levels, from the AI/tech aspects to the new age religious social media angle to the totally unique romance to the snarky social commentary on technology/the future/startup culture, all with an important connecting theme of questions of feminism in those environments and some phenomenally tense writing! The possibilities and limits explored in these pages are enthralling. 

 

“We want to address the thirty-seven percent who say they don't believe in God because their politics or their sexuality excludes them from organized religion. We believe that even the nonreligious among us deserve our own communities, our own belief systems, whatever they may be based in. Ritual, community, that's what religion offers that no other human construct has been able to replace. Until now. We are here to give meaning back to people, to restore and amplify faith - not in a higher power but in humanity.” 

 

 "Teachers are our most intimate acquaintances for a period of our lives, but the relationship is tilted toward us; they mute themselves in order to act as a conduit for our growth.” 

 

“…because all the great love stories are about two people bringing the story of their yesterdays and the story of their todays into one epic sewn-together poem, and that is what they mean when they say lightning strikes. It's not when it strikes the first time, it's when it strikes twice, which hardly ever happens, except, I think, when you fall in love.” 

 

“...how have I managed to put myself on the margins of this story?” 

 

“They are the curious, the wondering and wandering, hungering for connection, searching for meaning. They are the best of us. And we give them a place to be those people.” 

 

“We of the small appetites have no choice but to step aside.” 

 

“You’re telling me all greatness happens on the backs of other people.” 

 

“He is that very worst thing, an intimate who is also a stranger.” 

 

 

Between the eye-catching cover (those colors!) and the ALC I got access to through Libro.fm, I picked up this new release really quickly! Not my normal MO, so cheers to me. Haha. And it was a lucky choice, because this was a page-turner of entertainment and big ideas from start to finish. 

 

Olga and her brother, Prieto, are born-and-raised Brooklynites, and pretty big names around the area now, as Prieto is a popular congressman representing their neighborhood and Olga is a well-known wedding planner for NYC financial elite. Although on the surface, they seem to have everything together, as always, there are cracks beneath the surface. Prieto is hiding a pretty big secret that puts him in a compromising position as far as voting to actually support his constituents and protecting them against gentrifying influence. Olga is struggling to find her own romantic footing, despite it being her job to make others' big relationship dreams come true...though there's a chance that the guy she just met, Matteo, could help her find her own happiness. And both Olga and Prieto are struggling to come to terms with the fact that, when they were still children, their mother, Blanca, left them to be raised by other family members (and a father struggling with addiction) to travel the world leading and supporting militant revolutionary causes. Having stayed in touch only through letters since then, the siblings both face final choices regarding their relationship with her as the dire situation in their homeland of Puerto Rico post-Hurricane Maria leads to some new knowledge about their mothers projects, plans, and the roles she wants her children to play. 

 

This novel is primarily narrated by Olga, with occasional cameos from Prieto, Dick (one of Olga's lovers, that she met through her wedding planning business), and some of the letters Blanca wrote to her children over the years. Overall, it was really authentic writing, the kind that brings each of the characters' separate voices and personalities into life in a way that sparks with energy and personality. There was so much energy in these pages and I loved it. This was, as I said, in part because of the writing. But also, these characters are just straight real. Focusing on Olga and Prieto, because we get the most about them, they are just so genuine in their interactions with other people, their internal thoughts and processes, their strengths and goals, their flaws and questionable decisions, their fears and efforts to please their mother (despite everything). Like, they were so real. Similarly, Matteo and Dick, and even Blanca, have those nuances of character that make them feel real (for one, their "good" outweighs the negatives, for two of them, the deep opposite of that - cw here for sexual assault - but in all cases, tangible in their humanity). That's what made this cush a compelling, page-turning read, for me. 

 

Past that, there was a lot going on in these pages, plot-wise. Gonzalez managed to pair some lighter themes (family drama, romance, etc.) with some much heavier themes (imperialism, gentrification, psychological trauma) in a way that felt balanced just right. I loved Matteo and the way he and Olga interacted. The complex  dynamics of big, loud families was on full display in the best way. And I was especially into Olga and Prieto as siblings - I do love a well-written sibling relationship. Plus, the high society settings and wedding planning pieces (as well as everything that happened with Igor and the Russian mob) was just super entertaining. At the same time, there was a fascinating look at the potential harms of dogmatic social activism from an angle one doesn’t normally see: the children of the parents who disappear into the work (and react in different ways in trying to live up to that set standard). And wow, over time, as we see how Blanca communicated with Olga and Prieto over the years, this really morphed into something quite ugly (CW for parental abandonment/psychological trauma/manipulation); the fine line between efforts towards an important/necessary cause and taking things too far is examined in a way I've not seen much of before. Along those same fine lines, Gonzalez takes on an exploration of legality and morals, looking at how people react when the rich/powerful take advantage by influencing policies that support their interests vs how it's perceived when those with less social-financial capital take action in the ways available to them. As examples, Olga fleecing her clients, the Russian mob details, Reggie and Blanca's decisions/action, Matteo’s local real estate reinvestments, the "development" lobbying from Dick and the Selby brothers, present a number of perspectives on a fascinating continuum. 

 

Finally, there is so much in these pages about Puerto Rico, the way love for the country and a hope for a better future for it can take so many different forms/routes. There's also a dive into the history of colonialism/imperialism, and revolutionaries, in the country, and the way it's led it to a completely untenable (for the people) position today. Gonzalez highlights and calls out the hypocrisy of PR being a part of the US in a way that benefits the powerful, yet not enough to warrant real support for people who need it (thrown into stark relief by Hurricane Maria disaster "relief" ). And phew, the little bit of speculative fiction at the end, a sooth-saying about what the future could be if we continue to show how little we value the lives and livelihoods of the PR people, is a warning that should be noted for real. Overall, this aspect of the story (along with one side plot issue related to Prieto's personal life, that added some depth to his character and story that I really appreciated) got quite intense by the end, with some serious tension-build, and though it all wrapped up with a general hopeful vibe, I was definitely clenching my teeth there for a few chapters. 

 

I was totally engrossed in this novel from start to finish (and the cast-narration of the audiobook was spot on). Though I felt like there were maybe a few loose ends narratively, the major aspects were all wrapped up. Olga’s voice and embodiment were fantastic and I really enjoyed the unique mix of romance, girl-in-the-big-city, social justice realistic fiction, romance, and drama/thriller, and the fresh start vibe we were left with at the end. If you are looking for a quality entertainment read with a bit of depth, this book is it. 

 

I'd seen a few reviews and/or TBR stacks featuring this memoir, but it shot to the top of my personal TBR when I read a twitter thread about a horrible interaction the author had with an attendee at an event at which she was on a speaker panel. It was infuriating to read about, so I'm sure I cannot imagine the anger living through it caused, and it made me want to pick this book up even faster, in my own small personal show of support (and spite). I don't know what that says about me, but make of it what you will. 

 

Qian Julie Wang spent the first years of her life in China, but at age seven, she and her mother flew to join her father in Brooklyn, NY. For the next five years, the three lived in the "underground" of NYC reserved for undocumented immigrants. In this memoir, Wang recounts these years of her life in detail, from the family work in sweatshops to the poverty (and food insecurity) they faced to the lack of access to medical care to the adjustment to (low) academic expectations from teachers as a (low-income) immigrant to anti-Asian racism and Asian female fetishization to the ever-present threat of deportation (and the way that affects the ability to/comfort in reaching out for assistance in a variety of settings/situations). 

 

As expected, an author-narrator memoir always brings a little something extra to the reading experience, so on top of what would have already been a phenomenal book, listening to the audio for this one made it that much more special of an experience. Because let me just start by very clearly stating that this was a phenomenal memoir. The detail and emotion in Wang's memories, the honesty and vulnerability in the experiences she shares, combined for a profound and visceral work of nonfiction.  

 

The way Wang puts into words the day to day life of a young immigrant child, both in the small details and in the larger vibes, in particular the way they interpret the “shadows” their parents now carry and that fall over everything that was once familiar, is aching. The family's ever present fear (and related anxiety and stress) of being found out, found without papers, that infused every moment and decision, even for Wang as a child - it just puts one's own youthful experiences into such perspective. It was especially affecting to watch innocence in her perspective as it slowly eroded over her years in NYC, in particular as she writes about her role as a therapist and advisor and protector for parents who were equally (if not more) lost and adrift. The matter of factness with which she talked about choices like lying about getting food at school and surviving the resulting hunger pangs, just to help/protect them, is heartbreaking. Just, so much loss of childhood and the carelessness that should come with those years. At the same time, Wang shares the moments of light, the (small, and few-and-far-between) things that provided some much needed counterbalance, like trying pizza for the first time, the lights in the city during Christmas, itemizing the gifts she receives, her time in libraries, to great emotional effect. 

 

Towards the end of this memoir, Wang takes some time to reflect on how it was only later, as an adult, that the full weight of what her childhood looked like, as an undocumented immigrant in NYC, really came into full understanding for her. She speaks to how the heaviness of those years will forever be a part of and shape who she is today in a way that cannot be fully escaped or grown out of, no matter "how far she's come" since then. And she explores the bars of circumstance and documents and fear and trauma, the way that those bars left her (and her parents) not knowing how to fully break free even once the option of safety is there. Readers are left with Wang's reflections on the challenges of acceptance and healing and reclaiming life, the reality of the scars of her childhood experiences making it hard to move forwards into the future with (very much deserved) grace for herself. 

 

Wang brings the voice of her youth to life in these pages for the world to see, with uncompromising and sincere narration. A phenomenal memoir. 

 

 

“She would say this more and more to me during our time to come in Mei Guo. Be silent. Say nothing. My voice no longer had a place.” 

 

“But in the vacuum of anxiety that was undocumented life, fear was gaseous: it expanded to fill our entire world until it was all we could breathe.” 

 

“I did not understand then that there are few things more activating than the quiet desperation of a dignified woman.” 

 

“Our family was closest when facing pain.” 

 

“How cruel it was that home could be so temporary.” 

 

“…see us living her dream - leaving this awful, beautiful country for a different place, a world where we were just as human as everyone else.” 

 

“…I thought about what happened when people and animals died. Where did this brain go that carried so many fears? Where did this heart go that pulsed with so much pain?” 

 

“It is odd, the images that come to your mind once you know you'll never see any of it again.” 

 

“The sunlight shines too brightly onto the fault lines the preceding five years had carved into our little family. Possibilities open anew before us, but we cannot see past the razor edges we had grown for protection in that beautiful country.” 

 

“You cannot know that some things are not enough until you have them.” 

 

 

I saw this one reviewed by @andreabeatrizarango on bookstagram a few months ago (maybe a year ago? - my conceptual handle on time passing right now is questionable at best). She spoke so highly of it, so I added it to my TBR for the next time I was in the mood for a quick read (graphic novels are perfect for that). 

 

Omar is a young Somali boy living in Dadaab, a refugee camp in Kenya. When we meet him, he's already been there for years, settled into his daily role taking care of his younger, nonverbal brother, Hassan, and helping their foster mother with daily chores. When Omar gets a chance to go to school, he agonizes over the decision, whether to take a chance that will help their future or stay to keep an eye on his brother. And then, when he and Hassan get a coveted interview with the UN for potential resettlement in the United States, he is forced to relive the worst days of their lives, when they lost their homes and families, to "prove" they have no option to go back. From there, Oamr and Hassan continue to live their daily lives in Dadaab, forever waiting and hoping, waiting and hoping. 

 

This is a really interesting mix of biography, memoir and creative license. The "real" Omar, now living in the US with his family, helped write this story of his own, and his brother's experiences as youth growing up in Dadaab, doing their best to keep hope alive as they waited to hear news of their mother, survived hunger and fighting, made and played with friends, studied with school-mates, looked forward to news of resettlement, and learned the many ways they had very little control over their life trajectories and yet still were full with support and love from those around them. So it was based on those real experiences, the truth of refugee camp life. But with Jamieson's art and creative additions, there was also an aspect of greater representation to the story. Omar and Hassan were, of course, the central characters and added in were a number of side-character stories that were just as illuminating about the myriad ways a refugee's life, options and future can turn out. In particular, we get a view of how different things are for girls and women, what deep inequalities there exist based on sex, on top of everything else. In fact, the way that Omar and Hassan’s “happy ending” is juxtaposed against so many others who didn’t get or will never have that chance is the horrible kind of real (especially, for me as a female reader, Maryam). But really, overall, this story highlights the terrible reality of the way refugee camps and resettlement are set up, like its a fight to prove the worst story, in a way the belittles the suffering of everyone else, that makes the whole thing even more heartbreaking, somehow. 

 

Although as an adult reader, I have read about these situations and topics in longer, more in depth, format already, there was something particularly affecting about reading it distilled down like this. That's due in part to the younger audience this book was written for, as well as the formatting of the graphic novel medium. The visuals of a graphic novel always submerge me into the story a little extra, and the stark simplicity in the words superimposed upon those images...the extra care that goes into choosing those words because the space is limited, just hits a little different. There was a very visceral representation of the nothing and waiting (interminable purgatory) that is reality in a refugee camp and the variety of ways that impacts health both mental and physical, especially the psyche of children. There is the depiction of the lashing out, always at those closest to you, that comes with loss of hope and sinking into a dark place, as well as the way the anger and fear is misplaced because the actual targets (UN officials, government leaders, the people whose inflicted violence causing the refugee crisis in the first place) aren't there to receive it. There was a a very affecting look at the complexity of emotions in wanting nothing more than to leave, combined with the complete fear of leaving the only home you’ve known/the familiar, and the jealousy created between and amongst refugees that get the chance (and those that don't) out of proportion to their own control over the choices/options. There is the constant longing to go back to a home that was taken forcefully and no longer exists. And there are also the heartwarming parts, the moments of comfort that comes from being surrounded by people that love and support you (Omar's love for Hassan is particularly special), that will fight for you and take care of you and watch your back. And there is the purity of joy in life that one can only find in children, that manage to shine through sometimes, no matter their surroundings. Strong emotions, all around. 

 

This was a really wonderful introduction for young readers to the reality of being a refugee, in a way that is relatable to them, combining specifically traumatic topics with universal concepts of childhood, against a backdrop of illustrations that are revealing, but also full of life and movement and eye-catching color. And for this adult reader, there were equally strong messages, all the more powerful for their brevity. I am leaving this reading experience with the refrain Omar returns to throughout, that no one chooses to be a refugee, engrained into my mind and soul. 

 

“I wish there weren’t so much time to think in a refugee camp. But I have nothing to do today but wait...wait...wait... I try to forget. I want to forget.” 

 

“How long can you wait before you lose all hope?” 

 

“None of us asked to be born where we are, or how we are. The challenge of life is to make the most out of what you’ve been given.” 

 

What we have here is one more prime example of "Paige has abandoned the perilously high stack of books on her TBR pile next to the bed at home in favor of a spur of the moment library book" reading choice. And after basically speeding through this in one day, I can tell you that I'm not even sorry, not one little bit. (But really, I have to do something about that stack at home, as it's reaching unsafe heights.) 

 

Kitt Webb has left his days as a highwayman behind him, what with the loss of his best friend and the leg wound that plagues him And he's now living the life of a (more-or-less) respectable coffee shop owner (minus the fact that his closest friend/shop assistant using it as a meeting place for the people she works with that are looking to fence hot items). Percy, Lord Holland, and his best friend Marian, are looking for a highwayman of Kitt's reputation to help with a very delicate job: stealing an item from his father in order to bring him down (he's a horrible person, really) and simultaneously save Percy's own name/future. Kitt refuses to actually do the job, but does offer to help Percy learn enough to do it himself. And, of course, their time spent together leads to a deeper bond being formed...one that gives both Kitt and Percy a new idea of what their futures could look like, together, even though it's nothing that either of them planned for or expected.   

 

This is the first historical romance I think I've ever read, if I'm being honest. I mean, I (of course) binge-watched Bridgerton with the rest of the world, but I never read the books they were based on. I tend to lean more into contemporary and paranormal/fantasy romance, when I'm in the mood for something steamy and entertaining. But here we are. And it was awesome. Kitt and Percy were a great opposites-attract pair, with all the aspects of completely opposing backgrounds and realities and outlooks that make that trope so good. Combined with the way they interacted, all sullen and sarcastic covering up insecurities about how vulnerable their real feelings for each other left them, was *chef's kiss* as an interpersonal vibe. (I do love a snarky writing style though, so color me a bit biased there.) Plus, the slow burn and sexual tension build was excruciating and the sex scenes, when they finally arrived, were steamy and made the wait worth it. Let's hear it, too, for the bi male lead - not one I usually see and I was here for it! As far as the greater plot, surrounding the romance aspects, it was super fun. The planning and prepping for a road-side robbery was dramatic and adventurous, just the right amount of added danger and intrigue (as all the stories unfold). 

 

The slightly deeper point of discussion in the plot, which gave rise (I assume) to the pun/double meaning in the choice of title, focused on the difference between principles and manners. It was based on the underlying trope of lawful versus right with the "uncouth highwayman with principles based around doing good" (the Robin Hood vibe) pitted against the "fancy, rich landlord who acts very proper but takes advantage of people." In this case, it was explored in an interesting way between Kitt and Percy, as Kitt opened Percy's eyes to how bad his father actually was (IRL, past Percy's own knowledge), while Kitt learned to accept that a person is not solely who/what he was born as, and can change (for the better). This addressing of class difference and obscene wealth versus extreme poverty played it's part well as an external complication. And I really appreciate the way Sebastian was able to build to an ending where Kitt and Percy could coexist in a relationship moving forwards without having to pretend those issues weren’t/aren’t there, but also within reason considering the characters backgrounds and personalities. 

 

What a read! Spectacular, page-turning fun, sprinkled liberally with humorous dialogu and lots of sexy eyeing/side-eyeing (and more). The period drama, like sword-fighting and titled land-holders and castles and carriage robberies and fantastic ladies of the night side characters (I'm a sucker for those) and clothing, was all so entertaining. Despite being able to guess where things were going (as in, the plot twists were not as *gasp* shocking as they could have been), I was completely swept up in this dramatic plot adventure romance. A great impromptu library book choice! 

 

“Love, while a fine thing, might be little more than an accident. It was what came next that mattered.” 

 

“This was what he wanted - the chance to be known for the worst of what he was and to be held dear anyway, the ability to trust a person as more than an ally.” 

 

Thanks to the publisher (Vintage Anchor) for reaching out to send me a review copy of this debut novel. I am not usually a mystery reader, so I was initially hesitant, but something about this one sounded different enough that it might be worth a try. Perhaps the fact that the MC likes girls and wrote a senior thesis on Jane Austen had something to do with it (as in, I, too, like both those things...). And so I figured, why not give it a try. Plus, I do love to break from heavier contemporary lit and hefty sci-fi fantasy sometimes. And while I usually hit up romances for that, I figured a mystery might do the trick too. 

Claudia Lin wrote her senior thesis on Jane Austen, is obsessed with the Inspector Yuan mystery series, is a bit of an idealist/romantic when it comes to love, and has a bit of a fraught relationship with her mother and siblings, which means she hasn't come out to her mother yet and for sure hasn't told any of them that she just recently left the fancy corporate job her brother helped her get to work for a small mostly-secret agency called Veracity. Veracity is a company that verifies people on dating apps/websites. So, let's say you've gone on a few dates with someone you met through a dating app but you think they're lying about something they've said in their profile, you can hire Veracity to confirm (or deny) your suspicions. After one of Veracity's recent clients turns up dead, Claudia has some suspicions that everything is not as it seems, and she starts to do some off-the-books investigating, digging herself deep (possibly dangerous) into corporate drama in the big match-making industry. 

If you have ever read a detective or mystery novel and wished you were the protagonist, then this is the book for you! Claudia Lin is the most fun MC to take a narrative ride with: human, relatable, and totally invested in solving a mystery that she may or may not be qualified to get involved with (in the way that makes for a fantastically adventurous reading experience). Pek's writing is superb for the story she is telling, full of that self-recognizing snarky-smart vibe that (especially millennial) nerdy literary people will recognize and love. If you've read Soulless, I felt like it had a really similar feel to that. There are many nods to literature and language (mystery, classic and otherwise), but all communicated in a really accessible way that was just a low-key joy to read. There is also a really fun thread throughout in which Claudia references the fictional Inspector Yuan, a long-running mystery book series detective that she and her mother have bonded over throughout the years (sort of like Miss Marple), as she pulls ideas and inspiration from the situations he has been involved in as she works through her own real-life mystery. And in an overall sense, the mystery itself felt well-paced, had some nice twists, and just generally kept my attention. 

 

On a slightly more serious note, Pek brings depth and infuses some real contemporary life discussion into this novel with the inclusion of Claudia's family dynamics and the exploration of the way technology is playing an ever-greater role in romance. As far as the family piece, I really enjoyed the way the sibling interactions were written. The combination of supportive and judgmental felt so accurate to me. The added context of being children of immigrants, both in relation to sibling dynamics and parent-child dynamics (within Asian immigrant families), as well as the model minority expectations and issues related to coming-out, is not something I can speak to personally, of course, but the way Pek wrote about it felt quite genuine. It is, of course, speaking to just one experience, instead of making a universal statement, but in that specific context, it seemed spot on, and well done. As to the romance aspect, I was interested in the (light) philosophical lean into the role of technology in our decision-making and finding love in this age of tech-enhanced dating. 

 

All in all, this was just a super fun read, with top-notch entertainment value. An homage to classic lit (in an upbeat way, not a heavy or verbose way) and cozy murder mysteries (which is not my usually genre but is absolutely a great experience here). The ending sets up really nicely for a series, but without leaving the reader with an unbearable cliff-hanger, (which is perfect, IMO) in regards to setting up a next story-line in continuation of the mystery solved here, as well as Claudia's "team" and a potential(??) romance of her own (maybe not, that could just be wishful thinking on my part). And I can definitely see myself picking up that next book. 

 

“If this were a novel, he might simply be a poorly written character. But there are no poorly written people. Only ones you don’t yet understand.” 

 

“Love is an engine that can power you off the edge of a cliff and across a chasm of dissimilarity to land, exhausted but exhilarated, on the other side.” 

 

This is the sixth book in my slow-but-steady read-through of the 2022 Aspen Words longlist. They just announced the shortlist, actually, and, while I still plan to finish the read-through, I have to say that my totally random reading order choices were quite on point, because of the 6 I have now read, 4 were in the final 5 on the shortlist! 

 

What Storm, What Thunder is a literary recounting of the 2021 earthquake that struck Haiti; the before, during, and after, of the disaster, from a number of different perspectives. Told in vignette style, each of the characters get a single (though encompassing) chapter of page time to give witness to their experiences, with the one exception of the elderly market woman, Ma Lou, whose voice both opens and closes the novel. While their stories are completely individual to their own lives, internal and external reckonings, and truths, there is a theme of interconnectedness among them, as each ties into the others in some way (think Girl Woman Other style). 

 

This novel carried with it enough emotional force to rival the strength of the earthquake whose devastation it enumerates. I must start by pointing out that there are CWs for almost everything you can think of in these pages, death (including child and parental), physical and sexual violence, (general) environmental trauma, grief, a variety medical/injury content, and likely more that I am missing. But for all that, Chancy is able to keep the story focused on the characters themselves, and their reactions and day-to-day experiences of both the natural and man-made aspects of the destruction. We get glimpses into the lives of characters like Richard, a wealthy businessman back for a big sales pitch meeting in the home country he left behind for good; Sonia and Dieudonné, business partners in some less-than-socially-accepted lines of work; Didier, a young Haitian immigrant cab driver in Boston; Sara, a mother living now in an IDP camp and mourning the loss of all her children; Olivier, a father forced to leave his family by grief and the need to find work; Taffia, a young girl who experiences unspeakable violence in an IDP camp after the violence she lived through during the earthquake; Jonas, a young boy just celebrating his 11th birthday; Anne, an architect working for a global NGO. They are visceral stories. Full of life (and death) and truly tangible. Which, in reading the Afterward and a bit more about the author, makes sense, since many of these vignettes were informed by real stories of of the earthquake, by survivors or families of those who died, that were told to Chancy over the years (both solicited, through her work in connecting/networking in the aftermath, as well as unsolicited). 

 

It was profoundly affecting to read (and listen - as I also had access to the audiobook) this sweeping collection of stories of the effects of this natural disaster on the country and people of Haiti. And the ring of truth in these stories makes it all the more intense. I honestly haven't read anything fictional (or, really, nonfictional, outside the news I read at the time) about this earthquake in Haiti. And though reading this was an emotional cataclysm, it was also breathtaking in the stark portrayal of physical and psychological tragedy in the face of unmitigated environmental destruction. We see snippets of the characters pre-earthquake, as well as in the moment it hits, the immediate aftermath, throughout the longer term recovery, and including those with a variety of coping mechanisms and resiliency, as well as those who descend too far into grief and loss to make it back out. There are myriad introspections and explorations of before and after, and especially of the not-knowing in between, the reality of suspension within a nightmare. And as you can tell from the example characters listed above, we hear from those who have always lived in Haiti, those that had come back, those that had left Haiti and never returned. We hear from the natives and the transplants, the young and the old, the families and the single people, the dreamers and the realists, the victims and the “helpers” and those that span the divide, the physically present and the emotionally distant, the emotionally distant but physically present. It’s such a fully encompassing representation. 

 

The vastness of the violence in the moment and the aftermath is incomprehensible. And yet in the final chapter, when we revisit Ma Lou, we are left with a pervasive hope for renewal, and looking forward. Overall, this was a stunning work of literature, one that gives voice to so many who haven't had that chance (and many who now never will). A few times throughout this novel, characters ruminate on the many people whose names and lives will be remembered by only their few family/friends who survived and, with time, no one. And yet, their bones are part of the land of their country now and forever, and, here, Chauncy's words memorialize them for the world, if not individually, than in honor and spirit. Gutting, staggering, and completely deserving of its shortlist spot (and more). 

 

“We treated everyone alike. They had become all the same, were always the same.” 

 

“What we had learned from the hustle was that once you got to the top of the hill, no one cared how you got there.” 

 

“It’s like this: when everything becomes chaos and disorder, you begin to understand that control is only illusion and repression.” 

 

“Douz: when something terrible happens to you, it feels like a dream at first. Not until the pain and the panic settle does it seem real. […] We all know – however is it we will ourselves to move through this: afterward, the terrible thing never goes away. It dims but remains, lurking, an uninvited guest, a leech. The more you try to forget, the more it hangs on. One side is scissor to the other, back and forth, conjoined, not able to leave. The feeling uniting dream and pain lasts eternally, but you yearn for the return to a blank space, the in-between suspension between the two before they came to be jointed. You yearn for the sweet, open-eyed innocence, the comforting warmth of the blankness, to never become aware of the jointing itself, of then having to live in the after, always, remembering the before.” 

 

“…sometimes, I do think that the dead are luckier than we are.” 

 

“No one will know the difference between the good and the bad. The bones won’t give up the secrets of who they once were.” 

 

“…I was struck by a simple realization, that there was a beauty and majesty to ruins: they lent testimony to the past.” 

 

“Ruins had meaning: they revealed time like nothing else could, outlived bodies, love stories, everything. They should stand.” 

 

“All that was man-made fell, including time, buckled into the sky with nightfall.” 

 

 

Enter my like, twice-annual, foray into poetry. Still not a form I'm really comfortable with or feel particularly confident reading and understanding and reviewing. But, you know, personal growth and whatnot. I ran across Tracy K. Smith's name in a bookish article somewhere and took a peek at my library to see if we had any of her collections. This one, published in 2011, won the Pulitzer Prize, so I figured it was as solid a starting point as any for her work. 

 

Let me just start by saying that I know I lean towards prize-winning poetry (Brown's The Tradition was a recent Pulizter winner I picked up, I read Rankin's Citizen recently as well, and I read Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings because I wanted to read something by Harjo and that was the only one my library had). Mainly this is because I actually am not sure how to judge "great" versus "less great" poetry, so I rely on other people to tell me. And I'm hoping that, with time, I can start to get a feel for it? So that brings me here, to Life on Mars. 

 

If you are looking for a mix of sci-fi and poetry, this is it. Interestingly, I felt like it was unexpectedly exactly as the title indicates. I feel like, since it was poetry, I was really anticipating something more symbolic. But it is as advertised. It opens with a first section that is very much the “what are we, in the massive scheme of space and time?” vibe, with lots of oblique (and some less subtle) references to the cosmic and sci-fi in contemporary media (music and movies and literature). The does continue throughout the collection, but is most pronounced at the start. We then move into a section that is primarily in eulogy/remembrance of her father (who apparently worked on/with the Hubble telescope, so that explains, at least in part, the inspiration for this title and theme). And then the final two sections sort of explore the line between the earth-bound and the space-based, in form and possibility. 

 

There is a fascinating super-imposing of earthly terrors/disasters/horrors (including, but not limited to: violence, environmental decay/extinction, war crimes, interpersonal violence, murder, death/grief, hate, anti-semitism/racism/prejudice and religious fervor leading to heinous acts, etc.) with the language of the extraterrestrial, to create a feeling of how unbelievable our reality can sometimes be. Specifically, the poem in in the third section that imagines the letters from the dead, at major landmarks/attractions, to their murderers is a great example of how Smith does this. The final section really brings this part home (literally and figuratively), with images and small moments that tether us to the reality of our lives on this planet. 

 

I enjoyed many of the poems, was really into a few, and liked the combination of sci-fi and contemporary life a lot. The section on processing the grief of her father's death was emotional, but for me, my least favorite. Within the context of the rest of the poems and themes, it sort of felt like it didn't belong. And it jarred me out of the vibe of the rest of the collection. There were also, as always, a couple of poems that I think went completely over my head. But I pretty much figure every collection will have a couple of those, and I sort of just skate past them and on to the next, so they don't affect my overall reading experience too much. 

 

If I had to sum up this collection in one line it would be: the human experience, juxtaposed over the mysteries of space and nature, and the reach of hope and imagination for us as a people, a planet. I had a very positive overall reading experience with this collection. 

 

Favorite Overall Poems: 

Museum of Obsolescence (put me in mind of like, a museum of the present from the future, a la Doctor Who) 

The Universe: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (just a very cool poem, a calling to the sounds of daily life that maintain themselves in the background and tend to go unnoticed) 

The Speed of Belief (part 6) (part grief for her father, part mourning of all things gone/extinct, part a hopeful imagining of the next life for all those beings)  

Life on Mars #8 (rumination on the patience and ever-present, subtle strength of the earth, as planet and physical land)  

Ransom (similar to the above, but for ocean; a nod to the power and constancy of water in the face of human's war upon it) 

They May Love All That He Has Chosen / And Hate All That He Has Rejected (just a deeply emotionally affecting piece) 

 

Favorite Lines: 

“Just like the life / In which I'm forever a child looking out my window at the night sky / Thinking one day I'll touch the world with bare hands / Even if it burns.” 

“Silence taunts: a dare. Everything that disappears / Disappears as if returning somewhere.” 

"Night kneels at your feet like a gypsy glistening with jewels. / You raise your head and the great mouth yawns. You swallow the light." 

“We’ve learned to back away from all we say / And, more or less, agree with what we should.” 

“Moments sweep past. The grass bends / then learns again to stand.” (What a closing line!) 

Alright. I did it. In one of the most overwhelming #bookstagrammademedoit reading choices I've ever made, with particular shout outs to @thestackspod and @irisbooklist, I decided to give this one a go. I've never really seen a nonfiction book talked about like this one was, with so much hype. I hesitated to read it though, because I worked in youth substance youth prevention for years, in a state (NC) and county (Orange) that were part of the suits brought against Purdue Pharma, and it was in the depth of argument while I worked there. I was really enmeshed in the world of prevention and harm reduction related to opioid use (pushing patient education materials and new tracking software on prescribers and pharmacists, among other things) and I wasn't sure I wanted or was ready to jump back into that world. Also, for a few years my partner worked as a pharma rep (for a small, now bankrupt/nonexistent company, that did not, in fact, have an opioid in their repertoire) and he truly hated the role. So, for that reason as well, I was concerned about revisiting some of that, mentally. However, I am nothing if not a sucker for book hype, especially from certain readers/reviewers, so in the end, I decided to give it a go. 

 

After that intro, this nonfiction chunk is, obviously, about the opioid crisis/epidemic in the United States. There have been many other books, both fiction and nonfiction, that address this topic from a variety of perspectives. This expose in particular focuses on the Sackler family, the family who owns Purdue Pharma, and their history and rise to financial and social prestige, and the way their marketing and business decisions were pivotal in the way the opioid crisis played out. As the author addresses in the afterward, this book touches on but doesn't delve as deeply into the affected people/communities, the consideration of prevention and treatment availability moving forwards, etc. - as other books have done that well already and otherwise this book would be too wieldy to pick up. This particular book delves into the Sackler family itself, and their internal development/issues, as well as how they managed (for so long) to keep their name disconnected from this unfolding epidemic, despite how deeply involved they actually were, in an attempt to call them to account, to responsibility, in a way that hadn't yet been done. 

 

We begin with the "original three" Sackler brothers Arthur, Mortimer and Raymond in the early 20th century and their general rise through medical school, the first investment in the company that became (expanded into), Purdue Pharma and what was, essentially, the creation of the field of medical/pharmaceutical marketing. In addition, this beginning part chronicles the way the family put an emphasis on philanthropic giving, to arts and sciences foundations, widely and generously, but always was an obvious attachment of their name to the giving. On the other hand, we see how, from the beginning the family chose to disassociate their name from their business interests, in a dichotomy that is fascinating and does cause one to question, even before things got really shady. Anyways, we then follow the next generation, Richard Sackler in particular, as Purdue Pharma created and aggressively marketed the opioid OxyContin without real scientific evidence of its safety, and even against all (increasing) evidence that it was deeply addictive. Keefe uses court documents, company communications, employee/family friend interviews, and many other primary sources to detail the way the Sackler's ignored the actual needs of patients with a view solely on creating their "empire of pain." There are no words of the Sackler's own, at least in interviews or in response to Keefe's writing here, because they have steadfastly refused public commentary. However, even without that, this is an incredibly robust and intricately researched work of nonfiction, really bringing this family and their history to life on the page.  

 

So, after all that background, let me just start by saying that everyone was right. This was truly a spell-binding piece of nonfiction. I listened to the audiobook (which Keefe himself reads) and it was unputdownable. The 18 hours went by so fast. I couldn't believe it. And, as a few people messaged when I posted about having started reading this, I was both astounded and infuriated, in alternating reactions, over the course of the book. I mean, with my personal/partner background in what this epidemic turned into (sales and prevention), I shouldn't have been surprised by as much as I was, but seeing the narrative unfold "in order" like this, I honestly sometimes was. To start, the amount of conflicting interest in the Sacklers' rise to fortune through monopolistic drug production/testing/medical journals/advertising, etc. is unbelievable. So many legitimate efforts to move treatment and medicine forwards were co-opted for prestige and money with no regard for anything else (like patient safety or sales/marketing regulations) and it's sickening. Also, like I knew the FDA has not always been above reproach (re: lobbying and bribing and sub-par investigation), but honestly reading about the corruption here was sickening, making one question (more than before) and lose trust in all FDA approvals and now here we sit with the shit end of that stick mid opioid crisis and COVID with no end in sight... 

 

Anyways, this whole book was an astounding primer on willful ignorance, detachment from reality and lack of cognitive dissonance. The outmanned/over-gunned smear campaigns against individuals bringing attention to red flags, and the efforts to cast all naysayers as “addicts”/unstable. The systematic undermining, through lobbying/bribing, of Congress, the DEA, the CDC, state legislatures, federal prosecutors, and more. Basically, the way that rich white people can get away with stuff, in this case legitimate mob and drug dealing type shit is unreal to see this clearly displayed; what money can get you as far as leverage is frightening. This kind of elitist bullshit is the baseline of so many social issues now. 

 

The Sacklers were just so blind to their own immorality, to an unbelievable degree, with an addiction to money and prestige and the lengths they went to (what they ignored and willingly misunderstood) to get and maintain it. Keefe highlights so many really fascinating insights into this family's rise and the way they were hyper-focused on philanthropy (being known for "good"), but ignored how much harm they were causing the world; the way they started out so diversified and ended so single-minded. Plus, the internal family drama was kinda unbelievable and entertaining in the way that messy families and rich people behaving badly can be. Honestly, I have no idea how Keefe made this long of a book, on such an intense, heavy topic, such a parge-turner. But damn, he sure did. 

 

“The doctor is feted and courted by drug companies with the ardor of a spring love affair [...] The industry covets his soul and his prescription pad because he is in a unique economic position; he tells the consumer what to buy.” 

 

“...a classic Arthur Sackler play: innovative, showy, a little bit shady...” 

 

“…Arthur liked limbo. He thrived on it. He'd built a life around fuzzy boundaries, overlapping identities, conflicts of interest. Limbo was his element.” 

 

“It is a peculiar hallmark of the American economy that you can produce a dangerous product and effectively off-load any legal liability for whatever destruction that product may cause by pointing to the individual responsibility of the consumer.” (With guns, underage access to/overuse of substances like tobacco and alcohol, addiction, and more - it’s freaking infuriating.) 

 

“He had a hubris, a blindness to consequences, and unshakable certainty in his own convictions. If there was one attribute that Richard shared with his uncle Arthur - apart from a common name, a genius at marketing, and a sense of unquenchable ambition - it was the stubborn refusal to admit doubt, even in the face of contrary evidence, and a corresponding ability to delude himself into a blinkered faith in his own virtue.” (And let me add a disgustingly nonexistent ability to accept responsibility for his own choices and actions.) 

 

“I wondered if, for some of these people, it was just too demoralizing to take a sober measure of their own complicity, if it was simply too much for the human conscience to bear.” 

 

 

I, like so many people in the book world, was sucked into the Barnes and Noble 50% off hardbacks sale at the beginning of this year. It was basically irresistible. And this memoir was one of the selections I made. I haven't really seen it around much, but with a background in childbirth and breastfeeding education (an MPH in "Maternal and Child Health"), and my current work in efforts for more inclusive adolescent "family life" health education in NC, this felt like a "must read" for me. 

 

In The Natural Mother of the Child, Belc shares his deeply personal experience as a nonbinary, transmasculine gestational parent. Starting back with reflections on his own childhood and parents, moving through his journey of nonbinary conception, birth and breastfeeding, and finally the way that having his son, Samson, helped him clarify and fully step into his own gender identity. Interspersed throughout are images of documents, as well as photo reproductions, that provide insight into both the limiting ways that gender and parenthood are viewed, societally and legally, and Blec's own journey and growth while coming to realizations about himself.  

 

My first impression, while reading, was that this memoir is deeply introspective, but with a straightforward (short, almost jumpy) style that belies emotional distance. Interestingly, as the work progressed, the style of writing felt a bit like it changed, and became something more comfortable. In thinking about that, I feel like there is a fascinating point to be made about the probable parallel in the writing with what Belc himself actually felt about the person he was at the times in his life in question. (Alternatively, I just got used to the style as I read, but that's a less insightful commentary...) I also found the visuals to be surprisingly affecting, despite (or perhaps because of) their repetitive and everyday vibe. It really added something to see these social and legal definers of life/personhood/identity in conjunction with Belc's reflections on them, the way he really works to move past them. 

 

In regards to the topics that create the central focus of this memoir, they are understandably related to gender and parenthood. If you are enmeshed in these topics in your own daily life, there are perhaps no surprises in these pages. And yet, being allowed into this personal lens, as opposed to working with everything through an academic one, is incredibly moving. It gives depth and humanity to discussions of gender and parenthood in a combination that for most of us, is not commonplace or acknowledged or even on a radar. The way gender is in and affects everything (inescapably ingrained as a binary) and, because of the way Belc tries to move past it, it just totally eclipses the other things (like interpersonal/family relationships, grief, etc.) to a false extreme that doesn’t allow for any sort of nuance. It's a complicated juxtaposition that Belc explores thoroughly, both within their own experience and in the context of the larger world. 

 

Some of the most affecting moments, for me, were the times when Belc was willing to intimately share what one might consider the "uglier" parts of himself, the deep seated anger, his frustrations with his partner, etc. The way he reflects on the parts of himself that fit into gender stereotypes from both sides of the binary, essentially questioning the truth of the binary but without the actual question(s) being overtly asked, is juxtaposed so well with the questions he explicitly does ask of himself, regarding the sociocultural implications and important placed on a baby's, and a parent's, sex/gender and the exclusivity inherent in that that we all buy into to some extent whether or not we want to, because we are surrounded by it incessantly (in ways both larg and small, from all angles). In addition, Belc explores his own confusion about how to be himself and a parent (a gestational parent and a father both), especially considering the way that no matter how obviously he is trans/non-binary (or not, as it were), carrying a baby changes the way people talk about/to you. This all plays in tandem with his own comfort with labels and what does/doesn’t "qualify" him to feel like he deserves to be or belongs as a father (versus a mother versus a parent). It's complicated and insightful and introspective and a full social observation and commentary all at the same time, and if reading about it feels like a lot, just imagine how overwhelming it can be to actually navigate. 

 

I feel like (with the caveat that I am not an own voice reviewer) there is something for every background here, no matter your personal experience with gender and parenthood. If you are totally unaware of the realm of nonbinary and trans parenting, this is a phenomenal introduction to the reality. If you are conceptually enmeshed, but not personally aware, there is an individuality and real daily truth that this memoir provides. And if you are intimately aware of, have personal experience in nonbinary or trans parenthood, this is an invaluable public voice given to a very marginalized, generally dismissed, at times deeply unsafe reality. Although, as with everything, this is just a single voice of a single experience, it is still so important as a move towards visibility. 

 

“How much can you hate a system you pay to be a part of?” 

 

“I could not set aside an enraged life because I loved someone.” 

 

“In that moment I know I can never have my past and present at the same time.” 

 

“…now they say You're such a good dad because now they think I am a man and no one thinks men can do anything related to children, least of all make one.”