Okay, first of all, this book is amazing.

The world-building alone is fantastical and I appreciate the pains Schwab took to make sure I could keep the Londons straight. And the diversity, not only in philosophy, but also in peoples. Goddamn. It seems so effortless. My jaw smacked the floor over the gender fluidity of the characters. Lila prefers men's clothing and experiences little to no qualms about it. There's a bi PoC character who explicitly recognizes himself as such, is accepted by his parents, AND doesn't die. Plus, amazingly for a shipper heart like mine, I don't ship him with Kell. Schwab strikes just the right balance of affection between the two, where their relationship is actually and for real brotherly. Unlike in that one TV show, you know the one *cough* *cough* Supernatural *cough* *hack* *cough*

Lila and Kell's relationship is a perfect symphony too. There is some romantic tension, but just because she had a clone of Kell striptease doesn't mean Lila's giving up her dreams to be a pirate queen. Lila's got that streak of independence that's hard not to love in literature, and I already want to read the next book.

Overall, great story, great protagonists, a great quantity of blood, and a great read.

[Trigger Warnings for murder and swearing]

Oh God. This book.

Here's a summary, through which my tone will convey what I thought about this shindig: As noted later by numerous psychologists, army doctor Macdonald has diagnosable narcissistic and antisocial tendencies. His masculinity is as fragile as a wedding topper. His wife Collette goes back to school, and he feels threatened about it. Macdonald takes some meth, murders pregnant Collette and their two younger daughters, and blames it on some hippies who somehow broke into a military base, murdered his family (while leaving him alive), and escaped without anyone seeing them or leaving any evidence behind. All while on acid.

The news story gets big. MacDonald goes on a talk show and acts like everything is fine, which is weird because his family literally just died. MacDonald hires noted inside scoop lover Joe McGinniss to write a book about his upcoming court case, giving McGinniss access to the entire defense team and experience. McGinniss signs a contract saying he can write what he wants as long as he maintains MacDonald's personal integrity. While preparing the case, MacDonald and McGinniss become best friends with homoerotic undertones. It's uncomfortable.

During the murder trial, McGinniss slowly realizes that MacDonald might have actually murdered his family. This doesn't sink in until after MacDonald is convicted, sent to jail, and starts exchanging tearful love letters to McGinniss.

The letters last four years, during which McGinniss' replies become colder and colder and MacDonald more desperate. The letters become even more uncomfortable because McGinniss is obviously exploiting MacDonald for information and book rights. MacDonald thinks that McGinniss' book will be about MacDonald as a Tortured Innocent. McGinniss is disappointed that MacDonald is not Hannibal Lector and instead a slightly charismatic, macho jerk who likes to be the center of media attention. McGinniss publishes his book, FATAL VISION, that paints MacDonald as Hannibal Lector anyway.

MacDonald finds out about this after the book is published, while he is being interviewed on live television about it. MacDonald sues McGinniss for violating his contract where he super pinky promised to maintain MacDonald's integrity. The jury at the trial, reporters/the journalist community, Malcolm (our erstwhile author), and literally everyone on the freakin' planet think McGinniss made a Dick Move, even if MacDonald did murder his family. McGinniss does not admit to the fact that he was a Dick and instead laughs a lot on live television. This makes everyone dislike him more. McGinniss and MacDonald settle the suit out of court, with hefty paychecks. MacDonald also gets a lot of hate mail while in prison. The End.

*HUGE SIGH*

Oh God. Yeah, so that's the book, except for some very weird rabbit trails into love affairs, out-of-date Freudian psychology, inaccurate allusions to Dickens and Romantic British literature, New England classism, and the basic morals of nonfiction writing, which can all be boiled down to the following: Don't Be A Dick About It, Writers Sometimes Have To Slightly Agree With People To Do Their Job Even If They Don't Actually Agree, and If You Get Really Chummy With A Subject, You Should Give Them A Head's Up If You're Going To Shit On Them In An Article/Book. The only people who made a modicum of sense were the prosecution lawyer, the two journalists interviewed in the trial, an elderly black woman on the jury, and an elderly Jewish psychologist with a working class background.

Uuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhh.

This was a surprising book. Usually when I read classic literature, all homosexuality and LGBTQIA themes are subtext. With BRIDESHEAD REVISITED, Ryder's bisexuality and Sebastian's gayness were as frankly discussed and indulged as possible for a book that's not published by Harlequin Romance. There's even a character who openly cross-dresses and ditches Oxford for a hot boy cop. I'm not kidding. It's great. Plus, the Flyte family is Catholic and that means there's /gay Catholics/ which is usually, like, sign me the heck up.

But while I enjoyed all that was mentioned above, the tone of the book threw me through further loops. While I understand that the 1920s were high-flying that then followed by a decade literally called The Great Depression and a terrible, awful World War, Ryder and the Flytes seem very determined to be melancholy and depressed throughout all three decades. Ryder is only happy for a grand total of 3 years out of 30. There's a sense that the characters, especially the Flytes, were not built for utilitarian work. They were meant to be the living embodiment of Lady Gaga's "Beautiful, Dirty, Rich," "Money Honey," and "Bad Romance" songs with a side of Lana del Rey's "Money, Power, Glory" and "Brite Lights." Ryder even goes as far as exclaiming that Sebastian's descent into alcoholism is because people keep forcing occupation and purpose on him. The book plays with this theme of avoiding work a lot, especially the moral aspects of wanting to be pretty and be surrounded by pretty things without working for it. Do people have an obligation to work? What are the consequences if people avoid occupation? Are you destined for sad, odd life, or can you get by? What's the point of the British aristocracy? How /useful/ is it, for one family to have all that wealth and then avoid contributing capital beyond the social? What are the consequences of forcing people to work or voluntarily working?

AND THEN, THE ENDING? *SPOILER* once happiness is on Ryder's and the Flytes' doorstep, Julia...ditches him to join the war effort because she's Catholic? Because Catholics don't believe in divorce? What about an annulment and the fact that you refer to your husband as an ambitious sociopath? Also Julia never speaks to Charles again? *END SPOILER* My face did lots of confused facial expressions. I feel like I missed something and will have to check Sparknotes. Because what the *bleep*.

I tried to think of something clever to say about this book, but it can all be boiled down to "My God, it's Gwendolyn Brooks, go read it right now."

This book was cute with a capital C. While it took me a solid 50 pages to fully jive with the writing style (for some odd reason, Heilgman took on the tone of an illustrated children's biography, even though the book is marked young adult & sometimes she delved into full-on, techy "historian mode"), I fully enjoyed learning about Emma, Charles, and their home life. Heilgman fully accomplishes her task to prove that a harmonious union of the uber religious and the uber scientific/agnostic is doable, and I learned a bunch of silly parenting techniques to boot, like bribery and teaching children swear words as a party trick.

Overall, a joyous, informative read.

GODS WITHOUT MEN pretty much does as it says on the tin: across time and space, vastly different groups of people come to California's Pinnacle Rocks trying to find meaning and pattern in the chaos of their lives. Kunzru is a master of prose, spooling out story and its delicate spider-web of connections with the sandy dryness and glittery, mirage-inducing heat of an actual desert. As a Southern California native, I was pleased and engaged.

On the feminism front, however, this book lost stars for me. While I think the book is a brilliant study of racial microaggressions towards immigrants, people with brown skin, and natives, the female characters were more props than people. Even Lisa, our supposed main heroine, seems more a collection of anxieties and thorny source of obstacles for her husband Jaz. For example, she complains constantly about how rational and logical Jaz is, especially as she becomes more religious. And yes, it can be frustrating to be around a logical person all the time, or an agnostic person if you're faithful, but....Jaz was logical and agnostic when she married him. Why did she marry a logos-driven person if she doesn't jive well with logos-driven people? How did their relationship even function its way into marriage? It's just...very odd to me.

Finishing the book, I was torn. I appreciated learning more about what it's like to be brown. I didn't appreciate all the femmes being treated like objects. I found the writing style intriguing. I couldn't stand that every other character was named a variation of "Willis," "Prince," or "Fenton." I liked all the connections forged across timelines, all the lives the book touched. I really, really, really disliked the domestic abuse, violence, and threatened violence against women.

TL;DR: Kunzru is a beautiful writer. Read GODS WITHOUT MEN if you're interested in learning more about race, deserts, and space hippies. Don't read GODS WITHOUT MEN if you also want fleshed out femme characters.

STILL POINTS NORTH was a book that bit in deep and settled its teeth there. In elegant, succinct prose, Newman drew a bloodied me into her adventurous tribulations with zero fuss or pagentry. I loved the balance of showing vs telling. Newman drops just enough hints and symbols for the reader to understand the subtext of her post-divorce childhood, and she does it without bogging down the story or talking down to the reader. It's as lovely and rare as a twin snowflakes.

STILL POINTS NORTH is an excellent book whether you've never read a memoir, read a few memoirs, or read five memoirs a week. It's going up on the mental "favorites" shelf for sure.

Les Guérillères is more a circular art installation than a book and I kind of loved it. It's more abstract than I'm used too, but the insistence on the femme was such a breath of fresh air while I trudge through the bogs of MFA reading. From page one, Les Guérillères has a sense of all encompassing wholeness to it that literary fiction always seems to be searching for.

Before you pick it up, here's some tips that prepared me for reading: (1) the "story" is told in a series of very lyrical vignettes from the POV of 3rd person omniscient narrator; (2) from what I can tell, the lack of commas/listing of synonyms is to connote that women encompass all of this, it is part of them, they are one body, etc; (3) the intrusion of names and circles is a reminder that WOMEN WOMEN WOMEN THIS IS STORY ABOUT REAL WOMEN WITH REAL NAMES (PS it is super trippy to see your own and your friends' names listed); (4) The plot functions sort of like a circle and time skips around/backtracks/fast-forwards a lot; (5) multiple generations of women live and die throughout; (6) Yes, they did eat that man. Wittig is juxtaposing stark bloodlust/battle/warfare/dystopia with the idyllic/pastoral because she is awesome; (7) It also helps to think of the book as a found feminary.

In short, Les Guérillères is a no holds barred intersectional feminist fest, and it is absolutely awesome.

This book somehow cages poetry that paces like a tiger, burns like hot stove, mocks like a courtier, and destroys as much as it creates. Split into four sections, the poetry within demands justice just as much as it rails against more mundane, ordinary things and celebrates the sexiness.

It's quite a sensation to read, especially if you're sleep deprived in an airport and half-reading, half-lucid dreaming the words. Images pop, pure and disjointed. I sat down, but my head spun. I flipped the book around, as if reading upside down would be clearer. I gasped, giggled, and groaned. People in the airport left me alone, not because it was 3am and I was wearing a duly creepy Welcome to Night Vale shirt, but because I was clearly in an intense relationship with this book.

WHEN THE NEXT BIG WAR BLOWS DOWN THE VALLEY was one of my assigned MFA texts, so I was lucky enough to meet Svoboda, and she is a doll. Very kind and understanding of this wide-eyed reader. I say give this book to any and all poets in your life, as well as anyone who has been angry with a septic tank. This is a book for everybody.