Alright so I haven't seen that many people read/review this one. But about a month ago when I was shelving at the library it sort of jumped out at me from the shelf and I decided to bring it home and give it a try. It took me awhile to start it, actually, and thankfully I'm a library employee because I definitely renewed more than the allotted two times (though no one was on hold for it, so I felt ok about doing that). But once I started...oh my goodness. This book hit me so hard that I had actually ordered my own copy of it before even finishing it the first time around, because I know, even though I'm not really a re-reader, that there are essays in this collection (and one in particular) that I'll be coming back to again and again. 

 

Let me just start by saying that this collection is the closest I've ever come to naming a book "life-changing." I mean there are books that I have loved, books that transported me, books that taught me new things, (many) books that adjusted my perspective, but honestly I'm not usually one to throw around the term life-changing. It's a grand claim. And I have learned that, for me, change happens with time and evolution and not in one major fell swoop. That being said, there is absolutely a chance that had I read this at a different time in my personal evolution, it wouldn't have been quite as impactful (though I cannot imagine ever not being fully impressed by it). But for where I currently am, this book was..a revelation.  

 

As an overall commentary, I'd like to start by saying that the writing was breathtaking. It was graceful and smooth and mesmerizing and so, so smart. It's the kind of writing that makes you have to read sentences, whole sections, more than once to make sure you not only fully understood all the concepts presented, but also to bask in the beauty of how all the words and thoughts came together. Related, I loved the way that so many themes/buzzwords/philosophical questions circled each other and were woven together and ultimately expertly connected both within each individual essay and across the collection as a whole. It's a writing style that is always so impressive to me when an author does as effortlessly (as in not feeling forced) as Febos has here. While it makes for a slightly longer (and at times more arduous) reading experience, the effort is worth it for the quality. 

 

I usually only do the following for short story collections, but I had so many individual reactions as I read through this collection that I am going to separate out this review, and my thoughts, by essay. I think I need the structure here. 

 

Kettle Holes – The interweaving of different stories/focal points that are all brought together around a primary theme was on display to perfection in this opening essay. There was so much in this that was recognizable to the young girl in me, the one who was always told "boys tease the girls they like the most" as some sort of blanket excuse that never really made sense. Also, the questions raised about the conventions and expectations around showing and holding gratitude, especially from unasked for sources, are important. 

 

 “We are all unreliable narrators of our own motives. And feeling something neither proves nor disproves its existence.” 

“One can only redeem a thing that has already been lost or taken. I did not want to admit that someone had taken something from me.” 

“The true telling of our stories often requires the annihilation of other stories, the ones we build and carry through our lives because it is easier to preserve some mysteries. We don’t need the truth to survive, and sometimes our survival depends on its denial.” 

The Mirror Test – Reading the trajectory of the word slut, and the meaning Febos assigns to the evolutions, was fascinating. Plus, the conversation about sex ed difficulties under this current operating idea of “slut” resonated deeply with me, considering that's what I do for a living and the (incredibly frustrating) "moral" roadblocks involved. A bit intense, but validating, to read about the way any social distinction/outsider characteristic of a woman is distilled into sexually shaming her, even if the original issue is totally unrelated. Just a thorough exploration and calling out of all the interwoven ways that “hatred and fear of female sexuality is baked into the foundations of civilization,” used to maintain power over the women (with social pressure, ingrained beliefs, language, media) who might threaten patriarchy/white supremacy by using a forced narrative to ostracize them from society and “rewrite” the way they/we think of/see/believe of themselves. Holy. Shit. 

 

“The acceptance of poor treatment has often been interpreted as validation of such treatment, at least by its enactors, who are not interested in questioning their own humanity.” 

“You don’t have to recognize power for it to be wielded over you, it turns out.” 

Wild America – I’d never before considered some of the points Febos makes in this essay. Considering the conceptualization of how we have inverted nature so egregiously that puberty causes females to regress to the opposite of anything that would help us survive at a base/natural level was a real intellectually stimulating exercise. And then the way it highlighted how hard it is to break that conditioning, even after we learn that it is, in fact, just conditioning… Phew.   

“Your body is no longer a body, but a perceived distance from what a body should be, a condition of never being correct, because being is incorrect. Virtue lies only in the interminable act of erasing yourself.” 

“However painful, we often cherish our own self-hatreds, mistake them as intrinsic to our survival.” 

Intrusions: Speaking again both from a personal and professional lens, I thought the conversation in this essay about the lines of consent in any type of sexual activity, and the consequences of not having those conversations, was important and unfortunately too infrequently had. The way that Febos is able to clarify the understanding that women “overreact/exaggerate” fears, but that those reactions are based on real truths about sexual predation, not paranoia, is very affecting. Related, the consideration of the many ways the message that our (women’s) lack of sense of safety – physical or otherwise – is worth the cost of the feelings of “good” men. Oh, it made me angry to see it so plainly written like that, because it’s so freaking true. Finally, this essay talked about who gets to define what is considered a “real” violations, what can and can’t be stopped/protected against, and how any violation will/won’t affect a person for life and the primary point, that it’s really never the person who is actually violated who gets to decide that for themselves is, again, so angering. 

 

“The belief in our own culpability encourages our silence, and our silence protects the lie of our culpability.” 

“Because those practices [“atypical” sexual practices] have been marginalized for so long, there still isn’t a familiar enough public discourse on them for the layperson to differentiate between the healthy and the harmful. […] The difference between consensual voyeuristic practices and nonconsensual in analogous to that between sex and rape. By condemning these practices wholesale, we make it that much easier to erase their complexity, the vast spectrum on which they function.” 

 Thesmophoria – This one was, at least personally, more of a miss (as far as how much it resonated with me). However, it was still a really well written and communicated meditation on mother-daughter relationships. Painful, but real and ultimately hopeful. 

 

“There is a difference between the fear of upsetting someone who loves you and the danger of losing them. […] It has taken me some work to discern the difference between the pain of hurting those I love and my fear of what I might lose. Hurting those we love is survivable. It is inevitable. I wish that I could have done less of it.” 

 Thank You for Taking Care of Yourself – This essay. This essay. This is the essay that pushed me over the edge in deciding to call this book life-changing. There are so many points and philosophies and conversations in this essay that were mind-blowing, for me, to see collected and communicated so clearly and understand how widespread they are, when they were so personally recognizable and sometimes feel unique to me (or I at least feel solitary in my experience of them). Of note, Febos speaks to a mental state regarding things that are not a reenactment of trauma, but rather a preoccupation with the threat of it. She talks of the problem and necessity refusing without saying “no” (so as not to put oneself in an even more dangerous situation). The way she drew the line that empathy and accommodation are not synonymous; that really spoke to me. And, oh, this idea of empty consent. The way that she describes how years of being socialized not to reject others touch conditions one to consent to touch one doesn’t want – in general and out of fear of something worse and to provide emotional relief – was conceptually revelatory, and deeply, horribly familiar. When she proposes the idea that all of us need re-socialization regarding women’s bodily autonomy in order to combat that insidious false belief in our own ability to consent truthfully, it hit hard. Febos equally places blame where it belongs, but with the complications of how we now all buy into and preserve this reality, and suggests how it will take conscientious and consistent and possibly boringly repetitive action based effort, not just knowledge or belief, to change it. And really, I’ve just never been more affected by a nonfiction essay in my entire life. I would have bought the book just for this essay (even if the rest didn’t stand up; though, to be clear, it does). 

“I have often wished for a different word, one that implies profound, often inhibitive, change, but precludes the wound and victimization inherent in trauma, which has become such a charged and overused term outside its clinical definition. […] I am not interested in defining my experiences as wounds so much as in examining their consequences.” 

“Desperation can be a profoundly self-centered state. The desperate do not necessarily see the world and its other people with the easy detachment of the contented. They have a heightened sense of potential resources. My past has taught me that the devotion of the needy – which I had known from both sides – while complete, is not always loving. There can be a mercenary quality to it. 

“When the dynamics of abuse underlie all of heterosexuality’s conventions, even consensual interactions share trauma-related effects. A girl can experience or reinforce harmful symptomatic consequences as a result of a sexual experience without having been victimized by her partner, without the experience qualifying as trauma.” 

“Where we should draw the line between the abusive nature of a patriarchal society and abusive acts by individuals is not always clear.” 

“The more we want to exploit a body, the less humanity we allow it.” 

“Belief in the sovereignty of female bodies is far from universal and still so new where adopted that our own minds have yet to catch up. Our culture and thus our minds are riddled with contradictions.” 

Les Calanques – After the intensity of the previous essay, this was a beautiful and slightly less intense closing essay. Febos examines the cyclical patterns of life and potential for a kind of redemption and reinvention in that, presenting the outline of a sort real life palimpsest. It was a lovely finale, with the hope of self-acceptance, including a grace and love for the younger person we once were, and a tenderness towards the harshness with which we treated that younger self. 

“Even the fiercest love can’t treat what you conceal from it.” 

“Rejection could easily turn sexual interest into cruelty.” 

“Sometimes our best efforts at self-preservation look like a kind of violence.” 

 

Final thoughts…just wow. This is such an incredibly philosophical, simultaneously intimately personal and universally recognizable, meditation on the truth of being a girl and a woman in the world. It’s fierce in questioning and facing down ugly realities, yet soft enough to give the reader comfort throughout. I haven’t had to concentrate this hard, or make such an effort to be engaged in a text, in a while. But it was worth every bit of that effort. I will be recommending and revisiting this book for…well…possibly forever. 

 

 

 I had one final very slow curbside shift at the library before we switch over to full open hours next week, so I decided to grab a graphic novel to keep me company throughout the morning. I'd heard some great things about this one and it was sitting there on the "new" shelf just looking out at me like "pick me, I'm the one." And here we are. 

 

Morgan has plans to get off the small island she lives on as soon as she is done with high school and head to a big city for college. Somewhere she can escape constant reminders of her parents divorce and her brother's bad moods and the person she is pretending to be with her friends. And, especially, somewhere she can tell her very biggest secret: that she likes girls. But one night, Morgan is saved from drowning by a mysterious girl named Keltie. Morgan and Keltie start spending (lots of) time together and, as their feelings for each other grow, the secrets they're both keeping bubble to the surface.  

 

What a delightful little story this was! It was a quick read, perfect for picking up and putting down in between calls. But goodness after about 25 pages I definitely didn't want to put it down. The art is absolutely gorgeous. It's sweet and fun and colorful in a perfect match to the story it's telling. And some of the full page spreads are just...*heart eyes.* 

 

As for the story itself, I have always loved the myths about selkies. I have mostly read about them in a Scotland/Ireland setting, but I feel like the Northwest Coast (an island off Washington/British Columbia) is similar enough in environment that it made sense for me. But yes, the idea of being able to shift shape, but only for a limited time and, in this particular version, with the option to stay when love is on the table, is just so fantastically appealing to me. And this light and youthful look at that folklore was whimsical in all the best ways. Plus, there were some great messages for young/coming-of-age readers about being confident and proud of who you are. There are benefits to compartmentalizing, and times when it is absolutely necessary, but it is also important not to use it as a shield too often, or you risk missing out on some of the best parts of life. To this point, sort of, the coming out parts of the story did a great job addressing some of the difficult conversations/ways it can happen, but also highlighting that way support from loved ones can change everything. Finally, I loved the environmental protection/conservation pieces of the story as well.  

 

Overall, this was such a genuine and hopeful story. Morgan and Keltie were adorable, their interactions with and feelings for each other were so endearing. And, like I said, this was super visually impactful as well. It you are looking for a charming queer and confidence-building tale, full of family, friend and first love vibes, this graphic novel is for you! 

 

“Who you love is a good thing […] It’s never a burden on other people.” 

 

“Sometimes you have to let your life get messy. That’s how you get to the good parts.” 

 

“If war had taught her one thing, it was that ideology—how you believed the world should be, what you would die to uphold—was always flawed, and though innocent on its own, it could lead to tragedy.” 

So, last year I made a mini goal of reading the entire Aspen Words Literary Prize longlist. It was an awesome reading experience (I just love this prize) and I was hoping to make it a yearly thing. I'd only read one of the fifteen longlisters (The Final Revival of Opal & Nev) when it was announced a few weeks ago though (so I've got a lot still to read), and I've been in a sort of weird mental space recently, so I've been leaning hard into the mood-reading in order to try and cope. That being said, I think my attempt to read this year's longlist will be a bit more passive. There are a number that were already on my TBR, and as always, the full list looks spectacular (https://www.aspenwords.org/programs/literary-prize/longlist/), so I do want to read as many of them as possible. I just don't think I'm going to be rushing to fit them in before the shortlist/winner announcements this year. Anyways, here's my review for the second book from the list.    

Things We Lost to the Water is the story of a Vietnamese immigrant family to the United States. Having fled from the war in Vietnam, Huong arrives in New Orleans with her two young sons (Tuan and Binh), one of whom was born in a refugee camp, and without her husband, Cong, who was left behind when they ran. As the years pass and Huong manages to find a job, a place to live, and works to give her boys a steady home life while they adjust to life and school in America, she still holds on to the hope that Cong will be able to join them. And even after finding out that he won't ever be coming, she maintains a mythology around him to keep her sons "safe" from the truth of his absence. But as the boys grow and face their own challenges and identity crises, they inevitably find out about their father. And as Huong herself finally decides to move on and to own New Orleans as her forever home, she too must deal with her own dashed expectations of identity and her sons' lives in the US. This family's story builds to the inevitable environmental disaster that was Hurricane Katrina, and the ways that crisis may just bring them back into each other's lives. 

I waited a few days after finishing this novel before writing my review because I was struggling a bit with my thoughts on it. And if I'm being really honest, I don't think the time really helped me get that much clarity. Let me start with the things I really liked, because there was quite a bit about this book that was super well done. For starters, the writing was lovely. There was a bit of a poetic feel to it, that gave it a great ebb and flow of tension and emotion that matched both the thematic concepts and the metaphorical water references throughout. Although there were a number of harsh realities in these pages, the smoothness of the writing softened the edges just a little. 

In particular, at the beginning, Nguyen captured the feeling of complete displacement/confusion/loss/overwhelm from being dropped in a new place without planning or warning or knowledge so well. And then, as time goes by, he similarly captures the complexities of being not just an immigrant to the US, but specifically a Vietnamese immigrant to the US during the time of the Vietnam War. There is a poignant exploration of the many paths a search for home, belonging, recognizability, and a people in a place that is foreign can take. And then that search is expanded to show how, slowly, as one adjusts to a new place, you not only get used to it, but it somehow becomes a part of you (whether you really want it or not). With all this talk of finding belonging, it is no wonder that New Orleans, as the primary setting, is brought to life with a vivid clarity, taking into consideration both the stereotypical things it's known for and with an obvious focus on the Vietnamese and immigrant communities. 

The other primary thematic content was the way wars (and other traumatic events) break lives and make us create new ones when we are forced, in many ways, to leave old ones behind - not by choice, never by choice - and we all handle it differently and forget how to be who we were before. With that, I really appreciated the way Nguyen really brought attention to the injustice of forgetting as the only path to survival and how, in the quest to achieve that, we project our own pains onto those closest to us, onto those who most remind us of what we’ve lost. This hurt quite a bit to read, in this case, with the way Huong's treatment of her sons is so heavily based on her feeling about Cong's absence and the "expectations" he would have had for his sons, had he been around. This distant spector deeply affected not only the mother-son relationships, but Binh's personal connection (or lack thereof) with Cong, and the way he followed so closely in the father he's never met's shoes, while still mostly unable to forgive or come to terms with not having had him around. Heart-wrenching. 

All those highlights being stated now, let me try to articulate where my mixed feelings came from. Straight up, I don't know for sure. But for all the emotional depth and what objectively seemed like fully developed characters (they all dealt with a range of struggles and hopes that were unique to them, rounded in a way that immigrant narratives are not always given space to be), I still felt like some connection between myself and the story was missing. Maybe the jumping between the perspectives of Huong, Tuan and Binh, as well as major jumps between years, left me feeling jumbled between them. The overall feelings Nguyen was portraying hit me as spot on, but the specifics of each individual lifeline remained distant from me, like watching through glass versus being completely immersed in. I don't know if I can do a better job of describing how I felt than to say that maybe it was a case of the whole not adding up to be greater than the sum of the parts. And that lack of cohesion was a terrible feeling to be left with, because those parts were all so great and I wanted badly for the whole to feel just as great. 

My lukewarmness at the end of this novel notwithstanding, it had so much going for it. Nguyen's metaphorical questions about how many times in a life can you watch (the water) wipe away everything you have/ever known and survive a full restart, and can you ever get used to something like that, were so moving. This novel does a great job giving a personal face to a universalized concept, making it more genuine with that recognition. Although I didn't come away from this book as impressed as I wanted to be, in an overall sense, I did both appreciate the writing and find the story to be truly compelling. and if this is one you had been thinking about reading, I truly encourage you to ignore my weird vibes/reactions and go for it yourself.   

 

The third installation and my infatuation with this story and these characters and the general cozy blanket feeling of reading this series remains just as strong. 

As we know, the last story really focused on Nick, his journey of self-discovery related to his sexuality and coming out. This third graphic novel really brings the growing relationship between Nick and Charlie to the forefront, allowing their feelings towards each other to grow, as they learn (together) to deal with the realities of coming out to friends and classmates and teachers and family over and over again. When they go on a trip to Paris with their school, lots of lessons are learned and steps of trust are taken.  

I’m not sure it needs to be repeated for the third time, but since that’s what reviews are for, let me just reiterate how well done the pacing and illustrative aspects of this story are. Like, I remain in awe of the movement and expressiveness of Oseman’s drawings. And I still cannot get over all the little side panel touches that add gorgeous, heart-squeezing intimacies to so many moments, with focus on the small things – hands touching, foot position, legs tangled together, checks blushing – it’s all just deeply wonderful. 

The story in this one gets a bit more intense than in the first two, I felt. The addressing of bullying and homophobia in some of Nick and Charlie’s classmates has always been a central theme, but this time, as they get closer to each other and are more comfortable leaning on one another for support, we get to see how deeply those interactions have affected them, especially Charlie. (On this note, I’d like to include content warnings for self-harm, disordered eating, and specifically biphobia, for this installment.) But in the same way that Charlie was there for Nick’s coming out journey in the last book, Nick is so supportive and careful with Charlie as he confides in Nick about his mental health struggles in this book. It’s so soft and sweet. I also know that this isn’t always the most exciting part of telling a romance, the part after the get together, where the real connections start to be built. But I love it so much anyways – it’s the part that resonates deepest with me, for the parts of my own romantic relationship that hold the most meaning. 

Oseman keeps the story moving, even with that “slower” focus for Nick and Charlie, by giving us a lot more of other characters’ stories as well. We learn more about Darcy and Tara and the way they handled coming out about their relationship. And we get to see Tao and Elle take some steps in their relationship as well. Also, there are some great extra moments (of both the forgiving and “tough truths” variety), based on some of the tough realizations Nick came to about his friends in the last book, as they try to reach back out to him and Charlie. There was also a small side story about the two teachers that are chaperoning the Paris school trip that really resonated deeply for me, as a person who came out much later in life and because of how quietly sweet it was. 

Overall, this graphic series just continues to impress me, with how relatable and real and still deeply comforting it is. High school comes alive in these pages in a way that is so genuine and nostalgic (both the good and the bad). And watching these characters navigate the complexities of adolescence, intensified by additional social pressures and judgements related to their queerness, and still find great joy and happiness and comfort in each other and their supportive friends and family, is the perfect mix of acknowledging and satisfying. I am so full of love for everything in these pages.    

 

Two thirds of the way through this series and I finally got the story I've been waiting for since book one. I know myself pretty well, and I knew that Hawke was going to be a favorite of mine since his first appearance antagonizing Lucas, being snarky, and nursing a deep sorrow despite his outwardly strong, overbearing appearance. Basically, my favorite male lead in a romance personality type. So, I cheated and looked ahead until I found his book and I've been eagerly anticipating it since then. I clearly have a bit of a bias, but I have to say...it totally and completely lived up to my expectations. 

 

So, obviously, this is the SnowDancer alpha, Hawke's, story. He's intense, vicious when he needs to be as alpha, but with deep-seeded internal loss/grief that goes everywhere with him, and (of course) the big softie heart that only certain people get access to. And then there's Sienna, part of the Lauren family that SnowDancer took in when they defected from PsyNet instead of capitulating to an order for rehabilitation. Sienna has antagonized Hawke since day one, but in that way that indicates something more is behind it. But she came to SnowDancer as an adolescent, wreathed in Silence, and struggling to come to terms with her violent and uncontrollable gift, one that spells death for her and, eventually, everyone around her (and was trained to weapon-like precision by Ming before she defected). But now, Sienna is grown. Still young, but an adult. And a mature one, after the "childhood" she had. Hawke is hesitant to act on the pull between them, because of their age difference, but also because he knows he can't offer the mating bond to her, having lost it years ago. But despite all the reasons not to, Hawke and Sienna just cannot keep themselves apart. 

 

Let me just say, one more time, FINALLY. The tension and tenderness and passion between Hawke and Sienna lived up to the freaking wait to a level that I just couldn't get enough of. As in, I stayed up way too late and procrastinated way too much work in order to blast through it. I couldn't put it down. Hawke's intensity and carefulness in equal measure in interacting with Sienna squeezes my heart in all the good ways. And Sienna stands up to and challenges Hawke, not letting him get away with the overbearing-ness, with such fire. I love it. While there is an age difference, I felt like it was handled with quite a bit of care. And the development of Hawke beginning to respect Sienna as a woman and a strong adult and a real partner, because she demands it (as she should), while also being gentle with her as the ease together was just right. Plus, the way they have to actively choose/decide to be together and create their own bond, because the official mating may not be available to them, is a wonderful show of strength of connection. Ugh. I just loved them.  

 

Also, we got a bonus side romance here between Lara (SnowDancer healer) and Walker (Sienna's uncle/father figure) that was quieter, but honestly incredibly heart-warming. So sweet and I loved watching the second relationship developing alongside the primary one. I also was so into the friend connection between Kit and Sienna, it was youthful and fun, but also full and strong at the same time. And getting more into Sienna's connection with her brother, Toby, really hit me in the heartstrings (as an older sister of brother's myself). And, lastly, Lucas and Sascha have their baby (kinda spoiler, but if you got to this book, you knew it was coming, as she wasn't going to be pregnant forever) and I loved the way that was interwoven and moved certain relationships forwards.  

 

As far as the greater story of the Psy/human/changeling conflict, this book was a big one for moving it forwards. Basically, the war has begun. Henry's Psy faction (and allies) targets SnowDancer with quite a few attacks, so there is a lot of violence. Heads up for that. And by the end, there is a major confrontation with all the changeling packs and their allies and the Psy forces. Things get intense. (As to this ending, I'd like to point out that, in addition to the violence and the mating and the sex, there is also a really cool take on natural and biological failsafe’s that develop, as with all adaptations, over time, if given the space to do so without outside interference/limitation.) 

 

Anyways, this was a big one for me, for the overarching plot, as well as (and if I'm being honest, for me, primarily), the romance between Hawke and Sienna. So good. My absolute favorite of the series so far! 

 

In this work of nonfiction, Smith presents a contemporary exploration of the history of slavery in America and the way it's inextricably intertwined with the formation not just of this country, but on an international historical scale as well. Combining investigative journalism, interviews/conversations, and personal stories/reflections, Smith guides the reader through the way this history is portrayed, passed on and lives on, at (and through the lens of) various key locations, including Monticello Plantation, the Whitney Plantation, Angola Prison, Blandford Cemetery, Galveston Island, NYC, and Goree Island.  

 

Although topically this nonfiction touches on many of the same themes and messages as Kendi's Stamped From the Beginning (and I'm sure many others), there is something entirely different, conceptually, about this work. With both the style of his writing (wow, can Smith paint a picture with his words - you can feel his background with poetry in every line) and the structure of the history he presents, Smith's book is eminently approachable and accessible (much less textbook-y, not that there's anything wrong with that style, and indeed it's a necessary one as well, since it's been missing for much of our nation's past, but in a complementary sort of way). There were some perspectives in Smith's writing that I was already familiar with, like the contradictory nature of the morals/ideals Jefferson said he espoused (and supposedly formed the nation on) versus his reality as a slave owner, and the general hypocritical bullshit of that. But though I know of and visited Monticello, I had no idea about the Whitney Plantation, or the recent efforts at that location to tell a more full, realistic, picture of plantation life, with a focus on the lives of the enslaved people that were its base. I also had no idea about anything related to Angola Prison, from it existence to its history and ties to the history of slavery in the country (though understanding the current prison system as an extension of slavery gives you a solid starting idea of the relationship), and I am deeply disturbed and disgusted by the fact that it’s a currently functioning prison that also gives tours. Like, seriously, what the hell?? Goree Island was pretty much new to me as well. And though I have an idea about Confederate legacy (having lived in NC for over 10 years now), the Statue of Liberty (I grew up in New England and went there on a field trip in elementary school), and (more recently) some information about Juneteenth and its origins, reading about these locations and their roles in the history of slavery, as well as their present-day roles in working to reclaim narratives and educate the truth of it now (or not, as it were), was super instructional.     

 

There are a few points of history, records, passages from official documents, and other patterns and connections that Smith makes throughout the book that were either new or presented in new context. I don't want to make this review too long, nor "give away" too much (because you should totally go read it yourself), but I do feel like it's worth pointing a few of them out. I had never before seen/read direct quotes/passages from any articles of succession and the number of them that specifically quote the continuation of the institution of slavery as central to the state’s decision to secede unequivocally throw every other mythology about the Civil War (like, "it was about state's rights") on its head. Also thrown on it's head, in the NYC chapter, is the lack of culpability in the “we were the good guys” POV of the northern states (something I can definitively confirm, having grown up there...we vilified the south and never introspected about roles played), which both did hold slaves for many years and also benefitted greatly from the institution as a result of what it shipped in from the south. Looking at historical patterns in ways that I'd never been "taught" was particularly strong in Smith's connections drawn between the Haitian slave rebellion and Louisiana purchase and the mass population interest in sugar/sweeteners in Europe with demand on US plantations/slavery. Similarly, Smith parallels the evil plunder of slavery in the US with colonization in, specifically, Africa. This was a particularly impactful parallel, for me. And with it, I deeply appreciated the dramatic perspective shift in Smith's directive to reexamine the way we teach/learn African and African-American history: not as a story that starts with the slave trade, but one that was irrevocably interrupted and stunted by it. Africa's nations and cultures were full, rich and thriving prior to the advent of the Middle Passage, and while the history of slavery internationally must be faced and remembered, it must not be at the expense of these peoples and traditions. All of this, and more, is missing in US history education, a wrong both in general and to the detriment of cultivating critical thinking skills and pattern/cause and effect recognition (for prevention purposes) in our students. 

 

A real gem, for me, that Smith introduces in the first section, and uses as a framework consistent throughout the book, is the role of tour guides (and re-enactors) as "casual" conduits/vessels for passing on history. (Also, a different look at oral history sharing, which is also a recognition of oral histories being the only way we know many of these stories of enslaved peoples in the first place.) He writes of his own experiences and reactions as he tours Monticello and speaks further to the guides, fellow tour-takers, and other employees responsible for discharging the presentation of history provided by the plantation. These interactions provide a baseline for the key message that runs as a thread from beginning to end of this work: the way that the "average" person understands the history of slavery in America and it's still-present consequences today, based on the access to information they've had over their lifetime (from whom and where they were hearing it). A major, consistent, point here being to upend the abstract and distant way this information is usually presented, in favor of painting it in an "individual experience" way that makes the horror understandable on a real, personal, human level. This stylistic gathering of information and personal reflection on the way it's told and shared and, as the title suggests, passed on from person to person by word of mouth, is repeated with each site that Smith visits. It's fascinating and compelling, the perfect mix of the individual and the historical/educational. And the mix of points of view and opinions that Smith gathers, due in large part to the locations he chooses to visit/include, are expansive and personal in equal measure, even-keeled in their inclusivity of perspective, yet shared with a tone of staunch awareness (and refusal to accept/bend to) of the falsity of some of them. Smith takes this question of oral history, and the importance of the way it keeps stories alive versus the way it distorts fact into something different/exaggerated(?), even further in the last chapter about Goree Island. He speaks to the way the place is deeply tied to memory, but is keeping that memory more important than, or worth the manipulating of, the facts. He leaves the reader with that question fully explored, conceptually, but without a true answer, which feels...right. It's maybe not a question with a true answer. But that doesn't mean it's not worth spending the time trying to find one.    

 

One final thing I want to mention, before closing out, is the final chapter, in which Smith writes about his own family's stories, the words of his grandparents about their personal experiences with the Jim Crow South and the lasting effects of slavery on their, and his own, realities. One of the major points throughout is that making history more individual, less abstract, brings home the realities in a more potent and provoking way, and this last part proves that without a doubt. The people who lived what we learn about history were real people, full lives, and just because the photos are in black and white doesn't mean those realities are in a distant past, but rather continue to walk beside us, closely, today. 

 

I know this was a long review, but with a book this impactful and educational, there really was no other option. I just had so much I wanted to say! And, truly, I cut many reflections and responses to keep it as short as it is. Basically, what I'm saying is that this nonfictional reclamation of historical narratives about slavery, its inextricable role in the foundations of our nation and its history since then, is masterful. Smith attempts to fill the myriad gaps of this history, call out the many “contortions of history” we take as truth today, and call on us all to find the will within ourselves to reckon with it all. I absolutely see why this was a top nonfiction of the year and I'll just add my voice to the chorus of praise and recommendation. 

 

“I thought of how this might extend beyond the guides at Monticello, and to the visitors as well. What would motivate a Black family to come spend the day at a plantation if they were concerned about how the story of that land would be told, what kind of people would be standing alongside them as it was told, and who was telling it?” 

 

“There we’re other brilliant, exceptional people who lived under slavery, and many resisted the institution is innumerable ways, but our country’s teachings about slavery, painfully limited, often focus singularly on heroic slave narratives at the expense of the millions of men and women whose stories might be less sensational btu are no less worthy of being told. […] In overly mythologizing our ancestors, we forget an all-too-important reality: the vast majority were ordinary people, which is to say they were people just like everyone else. The ordinariness is only shameful when used to legitimize oppression. This is its own quiet violence.” 

 

“The illogic of it all appears to reveal a simple linear truth that is often lost – oppression is never about humanity or lack thereof. It is, and always has been, about power.” 

 

“Lineage is a strand of smoke making its way into the sky even though we can’t always tell where it’s coming from, even though sometimes we can’t distinguish the smoke from the sky itself.” 

 

“How do you tell a story that has been told the wrong way for so long?”  

 

“When I hear those deflections, I think of all the way this country attempts to smother conversations about how its past has shaped its present. How slavery is made to sound as if it happened in a prehistoric age instead of only a few generations ago.” 

 

“White supremacy enacts violence against Black people, but also numbs a whole country – Black and white – to what would in any other context provoke our moral indignation.” 

 

“You don’t have to be actively involved in the system to derive at least the psychological benefits of the system.” (Reminds me of some of the points McGhee makes in The Sum of Us.) 

 

“So much of the story we tell about history is really the story that we tell about ourselves, about our mothers and our fathers and their mothers and their fathers, as far back as our lineages will take us. Throughout our lives we are told certain stories and they are stories that we choose to believe – stories that become embedded in our identities in ways we are not always fully cognizant of.” 

 

“What would it take – what does it take – for you to confront a false history even if it means shattering the stories you have been told throughout your life? Even if it means having to fundamentally reexamine who you are and who your family has been? Just because something is difficult to accept doesn’t mean you should refuse to accept it. Just because someone tells you a story doesn’t make that story true.” 

 

“…the work of preserving history must be taken on proactively, that history must be cultivated and nurtured, or else we risk losing it.” 

 

“For most of my life the Statue of Liberty was one of a number of pieces of American iconography that seemed to memorialize an idea that had never materialized. It is a feeling I suspect many Black Americans experience with respect to pieces of history that commemorate an ideal of US history. […]  The Statue of Liberty is an extension of a tradition that seems to embody the contradictions in America’s promise, and I reminder that its promises have not always been extended to us.” (Also, this quote/chapter definitely made me re-examine my childhood field trip experience there.) 

 

“Don’t believe anything if it makes you comfortable.” 

 

“…parallels between the debate in Senegal over the remnants of colonialism and the debate in the United States over the remnants of slavery.” 

 

“Can a place that misstates a certain set of facts still be a site of memory for a larger truth?” 

 

“It wasn’t that the stories themselves were something I was unfamiliar with, it was that whenever I had encountered these stories, these images, I had not fully considered the way they might have affected my own family – perhaps because of the way we talk about certain episodes of US history. Black-and-white photographs and film footage can convince us that these episodes transpired in a distant past, untouched by our contemporary world.” (This is exactly what I found myself feeling as Smith talked about his families’ individual experiences, experiences they were telling him, in their own words, because they lived it and also are still alive.) 

 

“The history of slavery is the history of the United States. It was not peripheral to our founding; it was central to it. It was not irrelevant to our contemporary society; it created it. The history is in our soil, it is in our policies, and it must, too, be in our memories.” 

 

Back with my review for book nine, a quick turnaround after finishing the eighth because I was so excited to get back to changelings! 

This is an internal SnowDancer pack romance, between one of the top lieutenants, Indigo, and Drew (the middle brother of the Riley-drew-Brenna family). Indigo is essential to the pack, one of Hawke’s most trusted wolves, and very high in pack hierarchy. Drew is an interesting case, younger and with a flair for the dramatic and a reputation as a ladies’ man, and also outside the typical pack ranking through his role as the tracker. Drew has decided that Indigo is the only one he wants, but has to learn to adjust his pursual due to her own dominance and position. Indigo has quite a few reservations about Drew’s seriousness, his being less dominant than her, and just the fact that she had certain perceptions of her mate that he doesn’t seem to fit. But this opposites-attract situation might be exactly what they each need. 

Oh, I enjoyed this one. It was one of the more lighthearted overall installations, which I think we were due for. Drew is such a fun character – his antics are funny, but also do cover the heart of gold he has underneath. And though Indigo has seen a really toxic relationship between a dominant female and less dominant male ruin the love of someone close to her, and there is a closed-ness to her because of that that she has to overcome, it is still low key as far as trauma goes in this series. Getting to “watch” Drew pursue Indigo, mess up and apologize, antagonize and also be sincere, and seeing the way it slowly but surely opens up Indigo to the feelings and vulnerability she needs to accept the mating bond and learn how to deal with Drew in his non-traditional dominant situation, was just a good old-fashioned ~paranormal~ romance storyline. With, of course, a healthy dose of changeling heat and steamy scenes. I do love how openly and positively sex is talked about and practiced in their stories. Mmmmmm.  

There was also quite a bit more information shared about the SnowDancer pack, the other members and the way they interact, and the alliance with DarkRiver from their perspective, than we have gotten before. (And some nice extra groundwork laid for the upcoming Hawke/Sienna story as well – squeeee.) As for the overarching plot with the upcoming confrontation with the Psy… now that the heat was turned out at the end of the last book, things are really starting to get more intense as far as external threats. There is a clear uptick in assassination/infiltration attempts by Psy into changeling land (clearly under direction from Shoshana and Henry), with some real violence and almost loss of life (let me just say, poor Drew always seems to be getting the short end of the stick as far as terrible injuries while jumping in to protect other people). But also, we’re starting to see real factions and agreements develop as things are coming more to a head – further changeling alliances, direct cooperation of certain Councilors with changeling packs (if you’ve gotten this far, who those Psy are is probably not a surprise), and an intro to the role Max will play as a mediator amongst them all. 

A really good intensity break from some of the more traumatic stories we’ve had recently, moving the greater story along, but also giving the reader a bit of a release of breath. I had fun with Drew and Indigo and though their story won’t necessarily stick with me super long, in detail and impact, I needed it, sped through it and was totally entertained by it.  

 

And I'm back, having finished the eighth book and officially halfway through this end of the year paranormal romance series binge read extravaganza. (I was hoping to get through the whole series by the end of 2021, but it may bleed over into the new year *just* a little. We'll see!) 

 

So this is another romance featuring two non-changeling characters. We are re-introduced to Max, who is a human cop that we first met during Clay and Tally's story (and his work in helping protect Shine youth in that story gave him some major loyalty from the DarkRiver pack). Sophia Russo is a J-Psy, so she's worked hand in hand with human law enforcement for years, but is coming up on the end of her "usefulness" - facing a dramatic break in her shields (an inevitable rehabilitation) after years of being exposed to the worst of humanity (and Psy). But after she and Max are pulled together to work on a special project for Council Nikita Duncan, she realizes that she does, in fact, want to fight the inevitable. Because although her case may be hopeless, her shields too far gone and her ability to disentangle from the PsyNet impossible, her feelings for Max make her want to try. Her need for him, to touch and be with him, is worth fighting for. And he definitely isn't letting her go without a fight either. 

 

Well, as you already probably know, I was a bit disappointed by the lack of changeling in the central romance in this book. I mean, I'm invested enough in the overarching story now to want to know where it goes (and I can get down with "regular" romance too, of course), but having begun this series with a specifica reading "want," having it not met two books in a row was "meh" for me. I didn't dislike Max and Sophia, necessarily, but I was a bit "meh" on them (not least of which is because one of their major "steamy" interactions, as a result of Sophia legit not being able to touch people, was dirty talk/notes, which just personally doesn't do it for me). I did appreciate though that this is the first time there was no "convenient fix" for a Psy not being able to leave the PsyNet. Like, Sophia is legitimately stuck in it, and at the end, she's still in it. I appreciated that because it was a new twist on the Psy-falling-in-love story we've gotten used to throughout the series. And is realistic, since Max is the first love interest that has no access to another Net of any kind. 

 

Where this book lacked, for me, in the romance department, it did make up for (at least mostly) with the overall plot development. We learn quite a bit more about the Psy Councilors and their motivations and "sides" in the clearly upcoming "break from Silence or not" fight. Lots of insight into Nikita and the Henry/Shoshana team in particular, with many suspicions from previous books being confirmed (or denied), with the details we get here. Plus, some real lines in the sand are drawn in this book, which indicates to me that a "major event" on the Psy front is coming soon. In addition, I was super intrigued by all the insights into Kaleb's connections and powers and motivations that we get. He is not just the silent, powerful, secretive Councilperson character in this book, but actually has some major action, resulting in me being fully interested in more about him. And having peeked forward at the synopsis of the upcoming books (sorry not sorry), an knowing we get a story focused on him before the series ends, I am getting pretty hype for that installation. 

 

Overall, not my favorite of the series. But it was solid. And it did a lot to move the greater story forwards and set up what I hope is some great upcoming drama to unfold alongside the romances in the second half of the series. 

 

 

The library came through! Cause I wasn’t lying when I said that after reading the first Heartstopper a few weeks ago that I was not ready for the unexpected romantic cliffhanger and needed more immediately. Thankfully, I may not have been alone in my needs/requests, because the second and third volumes just got added to our catalog (a pretty quick turnaround). Yay! 

This second volume of the Heartstopper graphic novel series starts immediately where the last one left off – the night after the party where Nick and Charlie first kissed. And while Charlie is freaking out that he pushed Nick too far and is going to lose him as a friend, Nick is freaking out because…he super liked kissing Charlie and still isn’t sure what that means (plus, of course, he sort of ran off afterwards and left Charlie alone…). The rest of this installation covers, basically, Charlie and Nick’s developing feelings for each other, as each realizes that the other does, in fact, like them back. In addition, it focuses on the major self-discoveries, for Nick, about his sexuality, and Charlie’s deeply wonderful support as he works through it and comes out at his own pace/in his own way. 

UGH MY HEART. It fluttered. It fire-worked. It sighed great sighs of contentment. Nick and Charlie are just freaking adorable. And their earnest little touches and looks and the shy kissing that slowly got more and more sure and steady (but remained totally sweet) – I couldn’t get enough. Oseman’s illustrations of those moments are still perfect as well. As I said with the first one, there is so much movement in the panels she draws, and fantastic facial expressions (even as illustrated characters) and it just brings them to life so well. Plus, I loved the small (but many) additional panels that zoom in on their feet and hands, there was just something so intimate about them.  

Moving outside of our main two characters for just a moment, Oseman also addressed a few really difficult realities of friend groups and high school in general. The way she brings attention to being outed before you’re ready, due to rumors and talk, as well as the realizations that some people you thought were your friends just aren’t who you thought they were (or were always exactly who you thought they were, but now you have reasons to be upset about it/call it out), is so real. And she lets her characters respond in ways both high road and low road, which is so authentic to high schoolers.  

This second volume was just as cozy and great-big-hug-like as the first. It was a fulfillment of a relationship cliffhanger that was worth the wait. I sped through this in one sitting (I had to force myself to turn pages a little slower) and am left so full of the aftermath feelings of wonderful and warm unconditional support and young love. Mmmmmmm. 

 

I love a good mythology retelling. And I'm a real sucker for the "from a female/feminist perspective" retelling trend that has recently hit the book world. I just loved Miller's Circe when I read it a few years ago (yea, I'm a reading cliche right there). And more recently I also really enjoyed Barker's The Silence of the Girls. So needless to say, I was psyched to see this new one. Plus, I do love Norse mythology and prior to now, many of these retellings have been Greek focused. So, with my copy of Gaiman's Norse Mythology on hand for reference, I got ready to dive into this tale of Loki's wife, Angrboda, "in her own words!" 

 

After a series of run-ins with the gods (more specifically, after having been severely punished by Odin for not providing him with a vision of the future), Angrboda flees to the forests of Jotunheim to hide in peace. While there, she is found by a mysterious, mischievous man who turns out to be Loki, the trickster god, and the two fall for each other. Years later, their complicated, up-and-down relationship ends abruptly when Loki betrays her, and their three unusual children, at the behest of Odin. In the years following, with the help of her friend Skadi (a strong and intense huntress) who, from their first meeting in the woods, through the raising of her unique children, and supporting her during Loki's absences, has never left her side, Angrboda fights for the future of her children (always in her heart, despite being far from her side). Because in the end, Ragnarok is coming, and it’ll take all her powers to try and get them through it. 

 

Yup. This was freaking great. Not quite up to Circe, but probably my new second favorite mythology retelling. The first thing that indicated how much I’d like it was the writing. The oral story-telling, folk/fairy tale vibe style of the writing is damn perfect. It creates the exact right ambiance for the novel and even as it takes a turn for the more “normal” narrative as the plot progresses, it holds on just enough to keep the feeling without overdoing it for the full length. I also loved all the references to Loki’s many, and well-known, misadventures (many of which I know as well as I do from Norse Mythology in the first place, so it was great to have it on hand to refer back to in order to flesh out the minimal details Loki gives Angrboda, to explain his absences, when he visits her). Also, many of the tidbits about Skadi, Angrboda’s children and travels, the other Aesir and Vanir (gods), and more that included details from other parts of the Prose Edda. I have not fully read it, but there was something about the way that Gornichec writes certain sections that prompted me to Google for more info. I loved those hints and the prompt to be able to read/learn more as I went. It was all such a well interwoven representation of Norse stories and writings, into a perspective that was not given the chance to be so represented in the original. 

 

Topically, as with many of these “recasting tales of famous male figures from the female eye,” this was not an easy read as far as what Angrboda deals with. She faces blow after blow against her person, her feelings, her family, her autonomy, her life. And yet, the fight to survive and carve her own space and fight for what matters to her, through whatever route(s) available to her, is a drive strong enough to keep her moving forwards. Of note, here, there was a lovely sapphic respite for her towards the end and while it was bittersweet – as was basically every other part of Angrboda’s life – it was a balm in the midst of everything else. In what probably comes as no surprise given the themes, there is some really wonderful heart symbolism in this novel, both real and metaphorical in juxtaposition, throughout. It could have been overdone easily, but was used sparingly and nicely placed, in my opinion. Related, there is a comforting, in the sense that it would have pleases Angrboda to know it, ending. The reader is left with a strong message about the sacrifices of the heart for the betterment of one’s children and the future they’ll live. There’s also a wonderfully strong message about how, when those on opposite sides of a conflict come together, even against the face of what seems like an inevitable end, there is so much hope for a better tomorrow in that as well.      

 

This was just a gorgeous and deeply enjoyable retelling to read. If you love strong women, those who fight with whatever little they are given (like, if you loved Langoureth in The Lost Queen and The Forgotten Kingdom), with a sprinkle of the magical/supernatural conveyed in language that takes it in stride as the norm, you will love this story too. And as with all folk/fairy tales, the reminder of the power of story-telling its role in memory/memorializing, is strong and leaves the perfect taste in your mouth, as a reader, as you turn the final pages. 

 

“It doesn’t really matter where we came from, does it? We’re here now. We’re ourselves. What more can we be?” 

“And I will burn not for the god’s will, but for my own.” 

“If hope is for fools, then so be it.”