Claire DeVoodgd’s “VIA”, Some Various Political Readings, and The United States V. Skrmetti

 Hey there Bookbaggers! I wanted to drop off my current reading list for you all (with the bonus of some strange tales and tidbits), as well as make you all aware of a vitally important Supreme Court case that is taking place. I’ll be talking about the court case first, as I really need to get this off my chest. I would like to add a pretty heavy trigger warning for any of you who are sensitive to topics of self-harm, gender dysphoria, eating disorders, or transphobia/homophobia. This might not be the one for you, and I love and respect you all the more if you need to give this one a pass.

As some of you may know, today, the Supreme Court of the United States is hearing the case of United States V. Skrmetti. This court case will decide whether Tennessee Bill 1 (a bill which prohibits all medical care allowing “a minor to identify with, or live as, a purported identity inconsistent with the minor’s sex”, or to treat “purported discomfort or distress from a discordance between the minor’s sex and asserted identity”) violates the equal protection clause under the 14th Amendment. Essentially, Srkmetti is fighting to protect gender-affirming healthcare for minors. Gender-affirming healthcare includes puberty blockers and hormone treatment, which are both life-saving for transgender children.

This isn’t something that I typically share online, as doing so puts me in a risky position. However, I feel that my story deserves to be shared. 

I am nonbinary. I have identified as such since I was ten years old when I first heard the phrase in my middle school’s GSA club. I received gender-affirming healthcare as a minor, and it saved my life. I would not be here, writing to all of you, if it weren’t for the support of my parents, doctors, and therapists who fought for me to receive this care. Though my gender expression has shifted over the years, I have never, not for a second, regretted receiving this care. 

When I was 13 years old, not long after my mother passed away, I came out to my dad and my step-mom as being a transgender individual, I expressed my desire to change my name, and to eventually go on Testosterone: hormone therapy administered to transmasculine (assigned female at birth, but identifying with being either male or some non-female gender, to put it simply) individuals. My father and my stepmom were immediately supportive of me. I remember my heart filling with relief, joy, and warmth, as my parents told me they would love me no matter who I was, and as we all walked to the basement to explain my coming out to my younger brother.

It was several years before I was able to receive hormone therapy in any form (to my chagrin at the time), and the journey was not easy. My dad, justifiably, was uneasy about the prospect of allowing me to make such a big decision at a young age. However, as I spent months, and then years, talking to therapists, psychologists, pediatricians, and endocrinologists about hormone therapy, the solution to easing my gender dysphoria became clearer.

When I was about 15 years old, I reached a point where my gender dysphoria (extreme discomfort with one’s sex assigned at birth) became nearly unbearable. I was miserable. Once a talkative kid, I struggled to speak, being unable to bear the sound of my voice when compared to the other boys my age. I showered in the dark. I struggled immensely with an eating disorder, using starvation to make my body appear more masculine. I over-exercised until I was so exhausted I could barely function. I had near-daily meltdowns due to my dysphoria. I developed a habit of hurting myself, a habit I would be unable to break free of until October of 2023. In other words: I could not continue like I was. 

My pediatrician, after watching me break down in tears for the umpteenth time, pulled my dad aside and explained to him that hormone therapy could change my life and that he and I could take the journey together, to do what was best for me. So, when I was 15, I was blessed to be able to start on a low-dose injection of testosterone. The first time I gave myself a “T-shot”, I felt that same sense of relief. There had been a weight sitting on my chest for so long, and I felt like I could breathe again. This feeling strengthened as I got stronger, listened to my voice drop, and watched some of the other effects of my medication kick in. For the first time since I was a kid, I felt at home in my body. Every kid, trans or not, queer or not, deserves to feel like their body is their own. I cannot fully explain how painful it was, before I was able to go on hormones, to not recognize my face in the mirror, or the voice in my throat. 

Because I’m nonbinary, and I don’t fully identify as male, I was only on testosterone for a year. I wanted the permanent vocal change, as well as some of the other, smaller effects that would make me feel more at home. Let me tell you: I have not, for even one second, felt any regret for receiving the care I did. My family, my friends, my teachers, and I, were all able to watch me grow into myself, becoming more open and comfortable with the person I was. I finally felt like I was able to grow up, to be in the same place as my peers. I felt like myself. I still do!

If it had not been for the support of my family, therapists, friends, and medical team, I would not have received this care. If I had been born into a state like Tennessee, I would not have received this care. If either of these misfortunes had been the case, I highly doubt I would be here today, writing to you all from this desk in my college dorm. I would never have experienced so many of the wonderful things that make up my life. The light in my best friend’s eyes when I see her after several days apart, the roar of laughter as I sit with my roommates and friends in the dorms, telling stupid jokes, the rush of emotion when I got to see my favorite band live for the first time, with some of my favorite people in the world, and of course the joy of discovering new books to read, and things to learn. There is so much laughter, and beauty, and joy. Queer joy, trans joy, is so so powerful, for we have Survived. 

There are so many trans and nonbinary kids who deserve to receive care in the way I did, I refuse to sit idly, with the comfort I have been afforded in my body, while these powerful young people are denied the same opportunities I was given: the opportunities to truly Live. All this to say: please write your senators, your local politicians, your representatives. Please get in their faces. Please sign petitions, donate to The Trevor Project or your local Queer advocacy groups (if you aren’t a broke college student, that is), take Action. Your actions, your words, and your power can and will inspire others. That’s all I have to say about US V. Srkmetti, and I hope you will carry my words with you as we collectively fight to protect the lives and well-being of trans and nonbinary youth in this country. 

In the spirit of uplifting queer joy, I would like to recommend you a wonderful YA novel I read a few years back: Aiden Thomas’ “Cemetery Boys” is a wonderful work of young-adult paranormal fiction. Written by a transgender author, and starring a transgender boy, the book can capture the trans experience wonderfully, without making the main character (Yadriel) centered around his transness. Yadriel, in this novel, is a “brujo”, practicing traditional witchcraft and religion in a practice central to Latin America and the West Indies (the religion: brujería, is a closed practice, meaning it is only allowed to be used by those who are born or invited into it). The plot of the book is twofold: both focusing on Yadriel and his accomplices’ mission to solve the mystery of their cousin- Miguel’s death, as well as the nuanced family dynamics that Yadriel encounters due to his Queerness. The book is incredibly realistic in its’ portrayal of nuanced issues, and every character involved in the story feels so tangible, with their own unique motivations and humanity. I would certainly give this one a read, as it is incredibly well-executed, and honestly, it's just fun!

My second book is one that I’m still annotating my way through, as there is just SO much to unpack. Howard Zinn’s “A People’s History of the United States” is one of the most important, evocative, and heartbreaking pieces of nonfiction I have encountered to date, and I cannot recommend this one enough. Expect to hear more from me about this one when I finish scribbling in the margins, but I’ll grace you with my thoughts on it so far. 

Zinn manages to capture the often-times stifled and honestly tragic history of minority groups in America, ranging from the “discovery” of our country into the period just before the Carter and Reagan eras. With heart-wrenching objectivity, he explains the stories that too frequently go untold in our history books. I managed to snatch a copy of this book from my favorite second-hand bookstore: The Eclectic Reader (which is certainly worth a visit if you find yourself in my neck of the woods), and I had a fascinating conversation with a fellow history buff. The older couple who owns the store are two of the most knowledgeable people I’ve had the pleasure of encountering since I moved out of my parent’s house, and being able to discuss this book with them was an experience I have long since bookmarked in my head. I would love to chat with other people who have read this awe-inducing work of non-fiction, so bear with me while I wrap this book up!

My final book recommendation comes with a rather strange story. My friends and I were hanging around outside “The Atrium” (a fun little underground bar and dance club that consistently hosts some of the best small artists in town), when we were approached by a strange man. Obviously, we all bristled a bit, as it was night-time, and he was a stranger, but he and I ended up having a brief and enjoyable conversation about literature. I told him that I write poetry on occasion, and he lit up with recommendations for me. 

After he left, my friends and I laughed, relieved that the encounter hadn’t turned sour or scary, and went back to chatting with the patrons of The Atrium. About two minutes later, I heard a window open and the same man, hanging out the window of the cafe that sits on the second floor of the building, called my name. I turned around as he wildly clambored out the window, and slid down the shingles of the roof towards the ground. He told me to hold out my hands, and I (albeit skeptically), obeyed. Into my open palms, he dropped a copy of Claire DeVoogd’s “VIA”. He had bookmarked a page for me, and I opened it to find a poem titled “Apocalypse (as the sun replies)”. He pointed to the poem, and exclaimed “That’s you! You’re the goddess of Apocalypse!”. 

This strange chance encounter not only won me a new book, but also one of my favorite compliments I have received to date. Prize in hand, my friends and I trekked back to the dorms, where I spent the rest of my evening reading through the book I had received. “VIA” is, in all honesty, one of the best poetry collections I have ever read. I adore the abstract horror that Claire paints when she references apocalypse again, and again, and again. Each poem in this book is striking, both in DeVoogd’s talent for writing and by essence alone. I cannot really convey the feelings that this art elicited from me, I can only recommend you check out Claire’s writing!

And after ALL of that, I have a couple of song recommendations for you all, before I relieve you of my ranting. As Spotify Wrapped just came out, I thought I would share some of my most-listened-to songs from this year!

The song I listened to the most this year is entirely unsurprising if you know me off of the internet, or have ever stalked my Spotify playlists. “Groan” by Dazey and the Scouts is by far my favorite song of all time, and I listen to it at least once a day. This year, I listened to the song a total of 533 times, which, I suppose, is why my friends are so sick of hearing it. I, however, am not. “Groan” is a power ballad of a song that makes me feel like I’m ascending to another place of being. I scream it in the car at every chance I get, and it always elicits a passion in me that I try to harness at every opportunity. Not to mention, the song is the opening track for (in my opinion) one of the best albums of all time. Dazey and the Scouts released their first (and only) album: maggot in 2018, and didn’t really see their songs gain mainstream popularity until the 2020 pandemic. I was introduced to Dazey in 2019, with their most popular song: “Wet”, which is a beautiful, angry, heartfelt song about the intensity of young love and heartbreak. Every song on the album is incredible in its own right, and Dazey manages to perfectly capture the emotions that run through many queer youth. No wonder it was the backtrack to my high school career!

The second song is one that was shared with me by someone pretty special to me. “American Beauty” by Biig Piig is a gorgeous, slow, and powerful song that I have had on repeat all year long. Not only are the lyrics incredible, but the melody of the song managed to capture my mind and my heart to the point I find myself humming the song under my breath as I go about my day. Go give it some love! 

The last song is another slower song, and it is one that I got to see live this Halloween! “Piedmont” by Destroy Boys has been my go-to “cry in the shower” song since I was a Junior in High School, and I am not ashamed to admit that I broke down in tears when I finally heard it performed live. This song truly had my high-school heart captured, and it’s one I brought with me to college without hesitation. When I hear the intro to this song, I will always feel “nostalgic for memories I haven’t had”. I would recommend not only listening to this song but diving into the whole Destroy Boys discography, as they are truly one of the most incredible bands I’ve found. 

And with that, I would like to thank you, dear bookbagger, for reading this LONG post, for sticking with me, and for valuing my opinions enough to devote time to reading them. Thank you, and I hope you have a very happy Holiday season! I’ll see you soon, if not in the new year! 

- J.M

The passing of a torch, featuring my review of Mary L. Trump’s “Too Much, Never Enough”

 When my mother died in June of 2019, I was twelve years old. I won’t burden you with the extent of my experience, as that is not the point of this blog. However, I was unaware of “Bookbaggin it” until the weeks after she passed. I remember spending several months, pouring through her blog (this one as well as Dr.J Life This Way), hoping I could, at my young age, find solace in her words and carry her grace with me. 

I come to you now, as a college student. I’ve now observed five Christmases, birthdays, and holidays without the presence of my mom, as well as two major elections, and her absence still weighs heavily on my heart. I find myself craving just one more conversation with her, as she always had an uncanny ability to know what to say and when (not to mention how brilliant she was). 

I remember, after my mother’s passing, having nearly everyone in my life compare me to her: telling me that I was her spitting image, not only in appearance, but in spirit. As a preteen, trying to fill the shoes of one of the most exceptional women I had (and have) ever met, was overwhelming, and created a resentment within me that took years to shake. 

Having shed the resentment towards being like my mother, these days I find myself, ironically, becoming more like her than ever before. As my features have grown into a more adult state, I can catch her face in the mirror. While I sit in my college library, late at night, writing papers on topics she introduced me to so many years ago, I can see her voice in my words. 

I love my mom. I adore her writing, and I want to restart this blog, not only to continue her legacy, but to show you all that our lives are more than the sum of their parts. Her passion for knowledge, which I have been delighted to inherit, is something worth displaying. Worth continuing. 

My name is Jay Martin, and I may not be my mother, but dear god, I hope I can capture this part of her. 

As a political science student (minoring in American History), I seldom find myself pouring over fiction the way I did as a child. I still read voraciously, but I now throw myself into journals, dissertations, and autobiographical writings that help to illuminate perspectives on not only this country, but the workings of humanity as a whole. I hope I can entrance you, as I have been entranced, with the reality of this crazy world!

And with that, I’ll spare you anymore of my waxing poetical about my life. I recently finished a book, lent to me by my grandmother. The book is appropriately titled “Too Much, Never Enough- How My Family Created the World’s Most Dangerous Man”. Written by the only niece of now Presidential Elect Donald Trump, Mary shares her devastating insights into her and her uncle’s family history. 

Mary, a PhD holder and certified psychologist is qualified enough that she could have simply rattled off a list of potential diagnoses for her uncle. However, her book goes much deeper than that. She begins the book by describing a terse family celebration that took place shortly after Donald was sworn into office in 2017, taking care to describe both the visible stress her uncle was under, and the casual disregard for the well-being of their family members. She points out that in order to be transported to the white house, the Trump family was awkwardly placed into vans (causing discomfort for her older relatives), when more comfortable options were readily available and accessible. 

This is barely the tip of the iceberg that Mary tackles in her book. Focusing not only on Donald’s blatant cruelty, but the devastating generational trauma he and his siblings were subjected to in order to get to that point. 

Mary spends nearly the first half of the book explaining in-depth about Donald’s father: Fred Trump. Fred, as illustrated by Mary, was a deeply flawed man who held little regard for the emotional well-being of his children. The anecdote opening the first chapter describes Maryanne (one of Donald’s older sisters), finding her mother nearly dead in the bathroom. Fred’s response to the incident was cold, helping his wife as he could, but making no moves to comfort his daughter: sending her to school the next day with only the assurance he would “call her if something happens”. He would call her if her mother died. 

Mary, Fred’s Wife (not to be confused with the author of this book), did not die that night. She did, however, spend the rest of her children’s lives being emotionally and physically absent. Much of the focus of the book is on Fred, and the ways in which he systematically broke down his children, their self-worth, and their ideas of what it meant to be successful. Donald’s mother, however, is worth mentioning, as she and her husband both neglected to fulfill the essential roles of a parent of a young child. Mary (the author), explains that this early childhood neglect likely robbed the Trump children (particularly Donald and Robert, as they were the youngest) of their ability to identity and empathize with the emotions of others.

Mary also spends a significant portion of the book focusing on Fred Sr.’s relationship with his oldest son Freddy (Mary’s father). Freddy spent his whole childhood being told, verbatim, that he was inherently inferior to his brother Donald. Freddy’s interests, emotions, and reactions were under constant ridicule by not only his father, but by extension, his younger brother. Freddy is described as being anxious and sensitive in his youth, and it was devastating to watch his daughter illustrate his transition into abuse and alcoholism due to his father’s manipulation. 

As for Donald, Mary outlines his childhood traits, describing his cruelty towards his younger brother, his defiance, and the unusual favoritism he received from Fred due to the traits they shared. She explains in goosebump-inducing detail the coping mechanisms he developed due to the neglect he faced, and gives us an ominous warning for the future of our country. 

I don’t want to spoil too much of this book, as I feel Mary’s words will sink deeper into you than mine ever could. However, I cannot recommend this book enough. In the wake of the recent election, I fear that her work is more relevant than ever. Mary’s grief is not only reserved for herself and her family, but for all the Americans who have been betrayed and harmed by her uncle’s policies, as well as for those who have (weather directly as a result of his presidency or not) fallen at his hands. Her remorse and pain is tangible, as she laments the cycles that were not broken, and the horror of her family that has now been reflected onto the American constituency. 

I, personally, spent the morning after the election sobbing until I made myself sick. This book captures that feeling of terrifying betrayal with a softness and an accuracy that can barely be described. Mary left me with one haunting question: “What have we done?”

Lastly, in the spirit of giving this blog my own personal touch: I would like to share with you all a couple of songs that have been giving me some much-needed strength in my moments of despair over the state of our world. 

The first is “Flower of Blood” by Big Thief. The song is simultaneously haunting and comforting, and captures the same feeling for me as thinking back to my days of storytelling to myself at recess. If you need to feel like you can breathe, even when your throat is closing, I would advise you to turn this one on, close your eyes, and just be. 

The second is one that I stole from my roomate: “AUS MEIN KOPF” by Yung Hern is a bite-sized song that simply radiates joy. I cannot understand more than a couple words of this song, but it just elicits a need to boogie down in the sunshine. I’d give it a listen :)

Thank you so much for reading, and though I apologize for the darker tone of this article, I hope you know that there is unquantifiable beauty in this world. That’s why I’m here, writing to you under the name of a woman who I loved so dearly, continuing her work. Please do not lose hope, we have faced bigger monsters with less weaponry. The death of complacency calls for a rebirth of unity. 

Until next time,

-J.M

Most Memorable Reads of 2018

Hey, bookbaggers! I hope the last quarter of 2018 treated you well, that you read as much as your heart desired, and that you kept your papercuts to a bare minimum.  I couldn't quite get my rhythm together last year when it came to publishing new posts here - I kept collecting and collecting books I wanted to post all together, and saying "just one more and then...", but now that we have a fresh, crisp new year before us, an unlined journal to lure us back to the drawing board (and book) once again, I'm ready to move ahead, write more, and procrastinate less (never mind that it took me until the 2nd day of the year to share my New Year's resolution with you)! 

I can't think of a better way to start my new year than by offering some book suggestions that really, for one reason or another, turned my head in 2018. I also, of course, want to tell you all about the books I'm super excited to have on my TBR list for the year ahead, and share a peek into my own little writing project! 

I wound up reading 92 books last year. I failed to hit my personal goal (120 books), but as I consider the books that I did read, I'm pretty pleased with them. Like most any bibliophile who slobbers over new releases, I read and thoroughly enjoyed a fair number of the award-winners and bestsellers: Educated by Tara Westover, Becoming  by Michelle Obama (go audio with this one!), Circe by Madeline Miller, The Odyssey translated by Emily Wilson (the best translation, hands down - I couldn't stop turning pages), Less by Andrew Sean Greer (Pulitzer), Red Clocks  by Leni Zumas, The Line Becomes a River by Fransisco Cantú,  Elevation by Stephen King. If you missed any on that little list, throw them on the TBR list - and celebrate the fact that, for most of them, you probably won't even have to wait long for a library copy. 

But I want to give slightly more detailed shout-outs to books that didn't necessarily make the lists (especially since a number of them were not 2018 publications). I take my role as one of the biggest influencers* in the book industry very seriously.  And so here, in no particular order, is a brief, annotated selection of books that gave me pause and that I haven't shared with you already. Enjoy! 

Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips (2008) 

Take some down on their luck Olympic gods and goddesses who have been forced to live in a far too small and mightily decrepit London townhouse, add a couple of bewildered humans who were just minding their own business, throw in some long-simmering family dysfunction, and a possibility of the end of the world...and you've got yourself a funny, engaging, surprising way to welcome the new year! One of my favorite reads in 2008.

The Thessaly trilogy by Jo Walton (2017)

I only recently discovered the genius that is Jo Walton. Her eerie, eloquent, beautiful Among Others gave me serious author crush, but after reading the Thessaly trilogy, I've discarded the crush for ardent admiration. Walton imagines a world in which followers of Plato throughout history wish to create his Republic. Thanks to some serious goddess sleight of hand by the inimitable Athena, the followers are gathered on an island in the Aegean alongside 10,000 formerly enslaved children under the age of ten, and encouraged to bring Plato's masterful vision to life. What follows is an utterly absorbing, fascinating, outrageously imaginative trilogy in which the original city is erected - and set aloft to be sewn into world history (or is it?). The stories are told from the perspectives of a small handful of protagonists, including (but not limited to) Athena; Apollo, incarnated as a human; Socrates; and a self-aware robot. Walton manages to dive deeply into the philosophies and social practices of Ancient Greece; grapple with gender, race, and other divisive issues; take readers from the tiny world of what eventually becomes the island of Santorini to as yet undiscovered galaxies; mix gods, icons, robots, those striving for greatness, and everyone in between...and make the entire 700+ oversized page project immensely appealing. Oh, and she wrote the entire trilogy in less than three years. Whatever you have going on this year, if you want to be inspired and pushed out of your comfort zone - read these books. Extraordinary. 

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata (2018)

Keiko Furukura never quite fit in while growing up in Tokyo; she completely and unapologetically lacks any ability or interest in emotional investments. This could make living an ethical life somewhat tricky, but Keiko is happy to follow the customs and unspoken rules of her society (insofar as she can make sense of them). Upon graduation, she finds employment at a convenience store - and clicks into place like a puzzle piece. Clear structure! Specific rules and expectations! Guides to conversation! Eighteen years later, she's still killin' it at the Smile Mart. But soon enough, well-meaning family members and acquaintances urge her to change. What happens next offers both laugh out loud funny moments and a deeper reflection into the expectations and challenges of 21st century conformity. A fast, fun read, and a gratifying one, too, as Keiko finally embraces what makes her life worth living. 

Kindred, the graphic lit edition, by Octavia Butler (2018)

Butler published her ground-breaking historical sci-fi masterpiece over 35 years ago, but the graphic adaptation makes clear that her dystopian vision of a modern African-American woman who suddenly finds herself repeatedly dragged back to inhabit the life of an ancestor who survived South Carolinan slavery remains as potent, powerful, and pertintent as it was the day it was originally published. An excellent example of how graphic adaptations offer new insights into previously published works.

A Map of Salt and Stars by Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar (2018)

As the poorly understood Syrian war continues to horrify an impotent, watching world, Syrian artists work feverishly to explicate, preserve or somehow restore to life a Syria that, as any sentient observer can see, has been obliterated by the Assad regime, religious extremists, global power brokers, and others.  Every work of art that emerges from this catastrophe feels at least a little like a letter to a lost love. Some feel a little chilled or seared - and others come to you so full of tears, you can't help but weep as you read along, the beauty and the devastation is so close to the surface. 

Well, this particular artwork doesn't just take you by the hand across the watery surface of Syria's devastation; it leaves you no choice but to dive right into the dark and freezing waters yourself. And what a reward that journey brings! Joukhadar plaits two tales together - one of a Syrian born and NYC raised young girl named Nour whose family returns to Syria in 2010 following the death of her beloved dad, and the other an ancient adventure that brings together a legendary mapmaker, a Syrian girl masquerading as a boy, an unexpected warrior, and a savage, mythological creature that wants nothing more than to burn the girl and her companions to ashes. The twin treks - one across the ancient Levant, the other detailing the traumatic attempt Nour and her family make to escape as civil war engulfs their homeland - together provide insight not only into the Syrian war, but also into the very roots of Syrian culture and society. It leaves you dismantled, breathless, full of fear...and with a tiny flare of hope that stubbornly stays deep within your chest.

How to be a Good Creature by Sy Montgomery (2018)

Sy Montgomery published The Soul of an Octopus a few years back and once I picked it up, my life changed. She helped me remember those youthful days in which everything you encounter is a wonder and a balm; in which all the world's creatures are worthy and capable and interconnected. Her latest offering - a dozen or more brief recountings of the ways in which she's learned from and been humbled by animals large and small throughout her life - reaffirmed that feeling and now I'm a proud member of the Super Sy Montgomery Fan Club (which I just invented). Happily, I've convinced my daughter that Sy is the bees' knees as well, and together we look forward to finding and reading every single book she's published so far  - while keeping an eye out, of course, for new excursions. Get some happy! Remember miracles and wonder. Read Sy Montgomery. 

Antígona González by Sara Uribe (2016) 

Want to better understand the Mexican drug war? And it is a war - nearly a revolution, really, considering that well over 2 MM Mexicans (nearly all of whom were civilians) have lost their lives since the mid-2000's as the state fights an ever-expanding war of domination with the powerful drug cartels that have a monopoly on violence, education, services, goods, and human resources in countless villages and towns throughout the nation. Read this book. It takes the classic story of Antigone (need a refresher?) and ups the tragedy ante, as it were. Antígona is not seeking a proper burial for her lost brother - she really just wants to find his body. The fact that this proves nearly impossible in the tangle of realities that is modern-day Mexico and the US/Mexican borderlands lays bare the outrageous, inhumane catastrophe unfurling in our neighbor to the South. Really makes you stop and think when you consider that the Trump administration has convinced Mexico to hold immigrants seeking asylum in the US in temporary camps. At least, it should. The Mexican state is hanging by a few dozen threads, and Uribe forces us to recognize that those threads, more often than not, are coated in grime, violence, drugs - and come from the achingly empty shrouds of so many, many innocents.

See anything that caught your eye? I hope so! For my part, I've been hopping from book to book and pile to pile like a bird on melting tarmac. I'm so excited to get started with 2019, make TBR lists that will likely be discarded within days, fall in love with new authors and stories, and maybe even begin to share some fiction I've been working on with my favorite fellow bookies. Here's a hint:

Happy New Year! May 2019 be full of amazing adventures, literary and otherwise. - J

*this is a total lie. I'm not even on the map - YET. But you know the old (Weight Watchers?) saying...new year, new you! Who can say for sure the wonders that await in the year ahead? 

2018 0911: Reading 9/11

"No day shall erase you from the memory of time." - Virgil
This is what greets visitors as they enter the 9/11 Memorial Museum. Each square represents one person's memory of the sky on September 11. Incidentally, the choice of this quote engendered heated debate. Read one view here.

It was seventeen years ago that the Twin Towers fell.  I remember kneeling, stricken, in front of the TV in my then-living room, watching Peter Jennings trying to make sense of what was, in the moment, incomprehensible.  I remember standing outside of my little house in Colorado; just like in NYC, the sky was a sheet of bright blue, and just like all across America, that sky was strangely, utterly silent.  The world was silent, it seemed - holding its breath as it watched catastrophe unfold in America. I was 26 and my front yard felt like an awful kind of church. 

Today, that moment - that day - is history. It is both so far away and so intimately a part of American culture, politics, power, and identity.  I spent my professional academic life devoted mostly to teaching about 9/11 - why it happened, what happened, and how what came after related back to that fateful day, and why it all mattered.  It is vitally important that we as a society educate ourselves and our children about this event and this era. That we resist falling into stereotypes to explain away what happened. That we take ownership for how we responded and continue to respond to the cataclysmic terror that fateful morning unleashed. It is our civic duty.

With that in mind, here are a few of my handbooks and hymnals, as it were, for introducing and explaining 9/11 to those who want to learn. Please note that it's never too early to talk about 9/11, and there are very gentle ways to introduce the anniversary to even the youngest children. Frankly, I am of the opinion that we should get the stories that resonate most with us in front of kids as early and often as possible, because in so doing, we seize control of the narrative not just of 9/11, but of American identity, what it means to be Muslim in the 21st century, how even the most horrific of moments hold deep and meaningful opportunities for expressing love and solidarity, both within our own communities and around the world. Never forget that 9/11 happened - and never forget that the world rose up and spoke as one in the aftermath, saying, "We are all Americans." 

Okay, I'm climbing down from my soapbox and talking books for you. Please note: these are all works of non-fiction. If you're interested in post dedicated to fiction and poetry related to 9/11 and the War on Terror, please let me know in the comments!  This is a topic I can - and will - easily go on about for months! 

Required Reading

The Looming Tower: Al Qaeda and the Road to 9/11 by Lawrence Wright

Generally agreed to be the classic foundational work on how and why 9/11 was able to occur. Journalist Lawrence Wright masterfully weaves together biographies of bin Laden and Zawahiri and the modern histories of Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Israel with the modern foreign policy history of the US in the Middle East. He also shines a spotlight on the failures of domestic policy and the interagency turf wars that contributed to the catastrophic intelligence failures that culminated with the 9/11 attacks. Highly readable.  Wright's work won the National Book Award, is required reading for anyone writing or lecturing about 9/11, and recently was made into a mini-series. If you read only one book about Sept 11, read this one. 

The Longest War by Peter Bergen

Bergen picks up roughly where Wright leaves off - he offers a couple of (heavily indebted to Wright) chapters on the genesis of 9/11, but spends the majority of the work neatly summarizing and analyzing the broad array of actions taken by the Bush administration in the years that followed the attacks.  A remarkably tidy and well organized read that manages to cover both Afghanistan and Iraq as well as the adminstration's decision to use torture on detainees, the tempestuous relationship with Pakistan, the ways in which the War on Terror affected America's international policies and power, Al Qaeda's massive ideological and tactical failures, and more. Excellent, concise starting point if you don't remember - or weren't around for! - what happened when after 9/11.

On Top of the World: Cantor Fitzgerald, Howard Lutnick, and 9/11: A Story of Loss and Renewal  by Tom Barbash

On September 10, 2001, Cantor Fitzgerald was an international brokerage firm with an extraordinary pedigree and a massive amount of financial power, responsible for transacting over 50 trillion dollars in securities a year (that's more than the NASDAQ and the NYSE combined!). The next morning, nearly 700 of its 1,000 NYC-based employees were at their desks 8 floors above the jet that struck One World Trade Center. No one survived the aftermath. This intensely personal book recounts the events of that day and tells the stories of what happened afterwards to those who did survive, from CEO Howard Lutnick to the spouses and children of the lost. It's a difficult book to read, but an important one, touching as it does not only on the overwhelming grief and loss that so many thousands suffered but also the ways in which the very public nature of the attack affected the private lives of the bereaved. That Lutnick was able to rebuild his company speaks as well to the power of community and the resilience of the human spirit.  

In the Shadow of No Towers by Art Spigelman

If you can find this book, snap it up.  Spigelman, best known for Maus, his searing graphic literature dedicated to retelling his father's experiences in the Holocaust, penned this oversized, (he)art-soaked, letter of grief, anger, and anxiety to New York as he struggled to recover the events he witnessed on 9/11 and the actions taken by the US government in the years that followed (the book was published in 2004). It's a sobering and remarkable piece of history, as much for the illustrations of a very specific time as for the raw emotions that it presses between its heavy cardboard pages.

New York September 11 by Magnum Photographers

Magnum Photographers are known for being the best in the business. This book stands as evidence for such a reputation. It is, without a doubt, the most elegant and harrowing visual commemoration of the events of the day itself.   

Required Reading For the Younger Crowd - and the Young at Heart

The 9/11 Report: A Graphic Adaptation by Sid Jacobson and Ernest Colón

Having read the 9/11 Commission report (you can, too! All 449 pages are right here!), I can say with authority that you miss nothing by reading this condensed and illustrated version - which was approved for publication by the chairs of the 9/11 Commission themselves - instead. As a matter of fact, the unique layout and graphic approach sometimes allows readers to better absorb what was happening in multiple places at the same time, and gives faces to names that are, for most Americans, unknown and difficult to remember.  I also believe that it's our civic duty as American citizens to read this report, understand what happened and how, and contemplate what recommendations the commission made to ensure that such an attack never be repeated, so why not enjoy the format? But that's just me. 

14 Cows for America by Carmen Agra Deedy

In the wake of the 9/11 attacks, a small Maasai village in Kenya blessed and offered 14 cows to America as a symbol of their heartache for our nation's losses. "Because there is no nation so powerful it cannot be wounded, nor a people so small they cannot offer mighty comfort." Lush in its illustrations and gentle in its telling, this work manages to frame the 9/11 attacks as an opportunity for sharing emotions and building community. 

Fireboat: The Heroic Adventures of the John J. Harvey by Maira Kalman

This cute book - and it is very cute, with bright illustrations and a cheerful, adventurous voice - tells the true story of the fleet of ships, yachts, and boats that convened at the southern tip of Manhattan to transport the thousands and thousands stranded there in the wake of the Twin Towers' collapse. Its star is a feisty little fireboat, the John J. Harvey. Built in 1931 and retired in 1995, the Harvey was indeed brought out of retirement to help chivvy people to safety on that day in 2001. This book does recount the events of 9/11 more succinctly and graphically than the previous book I mentioned, but that's to be expected within the context of the story, which tells the history of the fireboat, lingering  on the bravery of those who manned it and on its specific contributions during World War II. Personally, I wouldn't use it as the first introduction to 9/11 to children due to the level of specificity and a tendency, as I see it, to make 9/11 seem a bit more exciting than terrible.  But it does provide general details of the attacks when you're ready to share those with your little people and keeps things moving along in an upbeat and very engaging manner. Fantastic illustrations, too!

The Man Who Walked Between the Towers by Mordecai Gerstein

I'll end with my favorite introduction to the events of 9/11, which really isn't much of an introduction at all. As a matter of fact, the only reference to the attacks is an evocative drawing and simple sentence: "The towers are gone now..." But this tells the story of the building of the Twin Towers and the extraordinary actions of French aerialist Philippe Petit, who snuck to the top of the towers in 1974, while they were still under construction, managed to sling a cable between them, and, as the sun rose on a gorgeous NYC morning, spent an hour walking, dancing, and playing on that tightrope  - without harnesses, and without apologies. The best part? The judge who heard his case gave him the sentence of providing a free show to the people of New York, and so he did. A story that celebrates the beauty of New York, the audacity of innovation and artistry, and the indomitable nature of the human spirit. I think it's a perfect introduction. Ironically, it's the only book I don't have in the stack pictured below, because we read it so many times when the kids were little that it was grubbily loved to pieces. Guess I need a new one.

I hope this post inspires you to read about 9/11 and discuss it with your friends, family, and, especially, the young people in your life.  We continue to shape the legacy of that terrible day, and we can shape it with love or weaponize it with hate. It's up to us. 

2018 August: Emergency Update

I just finished reading this book, and it is gnawing its way through my heart and my mind, and so I'm just dispensing with any of the normal niceties and posting my review here. Now someone PLEASE go and read this book so that I can discuss it with you, or at least know that I'm not the only one who is sitting around astonished and horrified but really, so very, very glad that the world continues to turn and I am in it, reading amazing new writers as if it were my job. Which it kinda is.

My Absolute Darling by Gabriel Tallent

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Ho-leee F*ck. 

This book...It is gorgeous. It is intensely violent. It is dazzling. It is excruciatingly difficult to read, and you won't be able to put it down. You might throw up a little, at least a couple of times, and you probably should be ready to weep, and then to scream loudly enough in your mind to urge the child at the center of this work to keep going on, and on.

The story revolves around the 14 year old Turtle Alvertson, only child of Martin, who is a widower and a survivalist. They live along the Mendocino coast, and as we follow the gaze of the narrator, we see her life as it is lived, beginning at her house and then slowly extending, streaming, slipping its way outward, almost like the ripple of water on a pond, or a creeping tide. Her homelife is, of course, not a good one, which Tallent makes abundantly clear as he pans across the landscape and zeroes in tightly on the house, its structure, its shortcomings, its master and protector, and the child that it shelters, however imperfectly: he spills specifics, lush and gothic details that are so precocious that to be honest, I nearly didn't read the book because it the opening pages were so...grandiose in their language and the almost unbelievable setting Tallent creates. But then I saw that Stephen King called this book a masterpiece, and I kept going. He's never let me down before, after all. And this is a debut novel, and I try to have patience with those.

I'm glad I kept reading. Because this book gets going and then runs on a furious, evocative, almost beautiful fuel all the way through. IF you can white knuckle through the first truly, utterly horrifying violent action, you'll be hooked, and this book will take off and your mind will follow it and you'll read and read, fascinated and impressed as hell, and your heart will be in your throat for the next 400 pages and your brain will teeter between thinking, "OMG, the guy who wrote this is brilliant" and "Holy Hell, this author is one super f*cked up cookie." But that's a big "if."

I don't want to give much away, so I won't tell you the plot or the key points, but I will tell you that this book combines elements of The Highest Tide, Lolita, Educated, and Black Hearts, and those are four books that have never stayed in my mind since I cracked their respective covers, and this book, it will haunt you. It is pitch black in many places but wow! what a view. 

_______________________

And there you have it.  Tune in next time, when I will share with you all the Greek stuff I've been reading lately. Happy reading! 

A Midsummer Night's BOOKBAGGIN IT Update!

Hi, book friends and fellow bibliophiles! Wow, it's been a while, huh? I have no excuses, other than the usual kids/life/books to finish and then another book to finish and still another book and THEN I'll update the blog... ones. So, I won't waste your time with all of those. I'll just get right to my book bag, because WHOA! That baby is really full. Like, splitting the sides of the backpack full.

This actually happened at our house a few months ago - my daughter received what is, to my mind, the coolest backpack of all time for her birthday:

Yes! Of COURSE my daughter is a musical theater kid, and of COURSE she loves Hamilton, because it is the best musical ever! Anyway, she was lucky enough to receive this backpack when she turned 11 in March. At the end of the semester, I noticed it was a victim of its own success. She had packed so many books into it that it had split along the seam.  Since I am not a seamstress and do not want to learn to be one (I'm a KNITTER; sewing is very finicky and hard!), that was the sad end of the Hamilton backpack. I had a similarly loved backpack like this once, when I was just a tiny bit older than my beautiful girl. It was from Culver Academy, where I had spent summer camp after eighth grade with my best friend, Ali, and I carried that bag around to all my freshman year classes very faithfully, especially since I had moved to a new town and was missing my best friend and Culver and all the awesomeness and hilarity and bad decisions that are summer camp. And then my backpack split along the seam, because I was a shameless toter of books, just like I am now! It was navy blue. I can still see it in my bookish mind's eye! Fare thee well, Culver backpack, and I hope you're resting somewhere beyond whatever is the equivalent of the Rainbow Bridge for well loved backpacks, and that everywhere you look, there are girls carrying books galore.

But I digress. Books! I have read many books since we last ran away together! Is there any rhyme and reason to them? Nah, not so much. Although I have binged a little on beach reads. My brain is almost at capacity these days for various reasons and so light reads have been my bread and butter avocado toast these last few months. 

I cannot, of course, regale you with details of every single book. (But I will update my Goodreads reviews over the next week or so with all of my recent reads so if you're REALLY itching for more suggestions and reviews, check here in about 10 days) So I'll just pick a few favorites and hope they're new to you and that you want to run out and find them at the library (or purchase them, of course - I spend much more on books than I do on anything else in the world besides healthcare - and that's only because I'm a cancer patient!)!

Circe by Madeline Miller

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Glitters with Magic and Love

I’ve been waiting for Circe since I closed the endpapers of The Song of Achilles. Miller has the expert’s eye and a storyteller’s touch - a female storyteller at that, which makes her remarkable among the other writers and rewriters of the classic Greek tales. 

Here, her gifts are used in telling the story of Circe, child of Helios and one of the lesser gods, the first witch of the world. She spins a tale of bravery, gullibility, fear and courage; she tells the tale of a goddess who has the heart of a mortal. I don’t want to give anything away and thus ruin Miller’s spellbinding tales, but it’s not a spoiler to say that I was astounded by the ways in which Miller was able to imbue her heroine with the same human frailties and fears as those of us mere mortals: the love of a mother, the burning shame of disgrace, the slow and fast at once finding of ones identity and center, the ways in which we all reach for more than perhaps we know, the giddyness of losing one's fear and with it, the donning of grace and gratitude.

Circe’s tales are big and bold, and they’re writ suitably large here. They also feel so familiar - even as they burn with a strange and lovely fire.  Miller deserves to be mentioned among the greats. Give yourself the beautiful gift of seeing an ancient character and story with new eyes. Miller is a marvel. 

_____________________________________________

American Fire: Love, Arson, and Life in a Vanishing Land by Monica Hesse

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The plain facts upon which American Fire sits prove that dozens and dozens of buildings, most of them abandoned, were deliberately set ablaze in and around the once bustling but now barely whispering Virginia countryside from Nov 2012 through the spring of 2013. A couple of locals wind up being at fault, as is revealed early in the narrative. 

That Hesse is able to keep readers turning pages long into the night around a story that is pretty cut and dry really speaks to her ability to tune into the beating hearts at the center of the tale: the dysfunctions of families, the unswervingly human tendency to do anything for love, the ways in which the disappearance of local power and prosperity can create a vacuum that destabilizes not just a town's economic prospects but also the local culture and collective identity. Don't be fooled: this isn't another attempt by white liberals to find out why white conservatives voted against their own interests in the fall of 2016 - or, rather, if it does go down that road, it does so in a very low-key and nuanced way, skipping the national political conversation almost entirely. What readers are treated to instead is a tale in which the writer's genuine interest in the place, people, and story creates a kind of narrative magic. It's good old-fashioned storytelling about contemporary America, in other words. No "reality" tee-vee or dystopian rabbit holes; no hyperbole or tricks. Just a journalist with her skin in the game and a town full of people who, it turns out, really have their hearts on their sleeves. 

If you wonder why journalism matters in this day and age, read this book! 

_____________________________________________

Saints for All Occasions by J. Courtney Sullivan

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

At the beginning of 2018, I realized I'd never read much in the way of historical fiction devoted to the experiences of Irish or German immigrants to the US. This gave me pause because I come mainly from German and Irish stock, so I'm slowly trying to remedy that. Sullivan's vibrant and poignant story of several post-World War II young adults who move to America in hopes of a better life offers an illuminating peek into the post-war immigrant experience in and around Boston, MA. And when read against the backdrop of the virulent and shameful anti-immigrant sentiment emanating from the current administration, Saints for All Occasions offers useful insights and surprises.

When Nora and Theresa Flynn leave their 1957 rural Irish home for the United States, they don't leave in a headlong rush due to war or economic catastrophe. Rather, Nora's fiancé, Charlie Rafferty, has already moved to Massachusetts to live with family members, making the logistics of arrival and settling in relatively easy. Each girl is overwhelmed in her own way, however, with the magnitude of change their new lives represent. Nora glimpses a future in which she isn't Charlie's bride after all, and Theresa, meanwhile, gets a taste of falling in love. Will they follow the opportunities that arise? How do they reconcile the complexities of leaving home? How does their conversion from Irish to Irish-American take place, and how does it manifest within the relationships and families they foster? 

Sullivan successfully tackles all of these questions and a number of others even as she evokes the real and messy realities of Irish-American community in 20th century Boston, MA. Children are born, relationships rise and fall, and heartbreaking decisions are made that will forever change the protagonists and their futures. But as all of this unfolds, of course, the characters themselves barely mention any of it. In true Irish Catholic fashion, pain and suffering is hidden and relationships skim along even as dark and complex feelings bubble beneath the surface. This is Sullivan's true sleight of hand: her ability to give her readers a rich, rewarding, deeply felt story that also illustrates the kind of relationships and situations anyone who grew up Irish Catholic herself will recognize with ease. "Don't mention it," is the mantra of the Rafferty family, and such a mandate is upheld thanks to great force of will, fervent faith and prayers...and a lot of alcohol. As in many such families, however, these protections finally falter and then fall. But not until a family tragedy provokes unprecedented situations...

The ties that bind families to each other and those that bind people to their homes (and homelands) are on vivid and beautiful display throughout Sullivan's narrative. It is engaging, heartbreaking, irresistible, and wry creation - truly Irish Catholic to the core. 

Four stars because I did get this book a bit muddled with another Irish immigration story I read, and that irritated me to no end. But a terrific read and set in such an unexpected time (most people think of the late 19th century as the hey-day of Irish influx; situating this in the middle of the Cold War really provides new opportunities for author and reader both)! 

_____________________________________________

Gather the Daughters by Jennie Melamed

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Intriguing dystopian cult debut

This book exists in a tiny vacuum - is it the story of a super creepy cult living outside the boundaries of contemporary society, or is there some kind of context that somehow gives the horrific practices of this community some kind of understandable context? How long has it existed and why does it continue to flourish? Why and how does Janey make such radical mental connections — and is the only one to have ever done so? Where are all the boys the same ages as the girls who take center stage, and how are they brought up in such a way as to willingly take part in the cultural practices of the community? None of it is explained! 

At the same time, the story is beautifully written, with compelling characters and interesting plot developments. Reads more like a novella than a novel, and clearly is a freshman effort. But I’m curious to see what she does next.

_________________________________________

The Last Girl: My Story of Captivity, and My Fight Against the Islamic State by Nadia Murad

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Nadia Murad takes Western readers into a world few of them are aware even exists: the settlements of the Yazidi community in northern Iraq. Nadia's people live a simple subsistence lifestyle, farming and raising sheep for local trade, and worship according to the beliefs of their religion, which Nadia explains with patience and grace. She is born and comes of age in a period of war - first the 2003 invasion and occupation of Iraq, and then the subsequent civil war and all that followed. The Syrian civil war further destabilizes her homeland...and then ISIS moves into areas nearby.

As Nadia witnesses the destruction first, of her family's sense of security, and then, of their very home and village, she remains passionate and clear-eyed about the immorality of what she sees. Nadia herself is captured by ISIS, forced into sexual slavery and kept locked away from society. But she does not lose her faith - either in her religion or in her fellow men and women. Her story of living through hellish circumstances, her successful flight to freedom, and her stubborn resilience in fighting the Islamic State even after all that they have done to destroy her and her family is riveting and instructive. Anyone who takes the time to read this will see that the ongoing problems in the Middle East cannot and are not ones that can be understood in stark terms of "good guys" and "bad guys," or "Arabs" versus "Americans" or "Muslims" versus "Christians" -- any of the hysterical and simple-minded explanations for what's amiss and how to fix it pale and fall away once you become beguiled by Nadia and her tale.

This book should be a must-read for anyone curious about the world today, skeptical of the need for American intervention abroad, and lacking understanding about geopolitics. Nadia has much to teach us, and judging from her book and her advocacy efforts, I have few doubts that her young, strong voice is here to stay. 

___________________________________________

In addition to these intriguing works, I've also been reading a lot of Elin Hilderbrand, because it's summer and nothing says summer to me like figuring out messed up relationships while luxuriating in  New England beach town. So far, I've read The Perfect Couple, The Castaways, Silver Girl, and The Identicals. I still have Summerland and A Summer Affair on deck. I can't help myself!

I usually devour at least one big feel-good dysfunctional family story, too - In the past, Spoonbenders, People We Hate at the Wedding, The Nest, Modern Lovers... have all fit the bill, but I haven't wandered across anything this summer yet so far. Maybe I'll check out one of the books here - or maybe you have a suggestion for me? 

In the meantime, I'm finishing the last book of Jo Walton's Thessaly series right now (I've been on a bit of Greek historical fiction bender). I can't wait to share that with you!

What are you reading to keep you cool these days?

___________
Thanks for reading my book blog. If you'd like to follow updates via facebook, you can "like" the Friends of Bookbaggin' It by clicking here.

This Week's Bookbag: Never Enough Edition, April 10, 2018

Peek-a-boo!

Every time I've gone to update this blog, I've been in the middle of a really good book, and so I've been all...as soon as I finish this one, I'll update it. But then I keep sneaking off and starting another one and here we are, behind schedule. I also decided to add a new section to my offering and make the "Five Things" section a pop-in now and then rather than a must have, but I haven't actually written anything that will fill that new section yet, which has also contributed to my lack of publishing. And then I've been worried that no one is really even reading this blog (knock twice if you're out there...), so I considered letting it just languish in a virtual drawer until everyone forgot about it. But then. Then I learned that I have at least one new, extremely VIP reader: my daughter!  She is voracious reader and wicked smart, plus kind and funny and generous and thoughtful and adorable and...pretty much the most amazing girl in the world. So I can't very well stop writing now, can I?! No. Of course not. Perhaps I'll even ask her to throw down some reviews for us from time to time. She's 11 and reading Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu (at home) and Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson (at school) and I think her reviews would give us tremendously useful perspectives, don't you? Especially if you're on the hunt for a book that would be of interest to your favorite tween/teen/young adult.  

I'll work on her (so can you - just leave a comment encouraging her and I'll make sure she sees it!) but in the meantime, voilá! I have penned an imperfect and incomplete post that despite its shortcomings I hope will give you a book or two to add to your TBR pile along with some brief entertainment, and maybe even a little joy. *fingers crossed* 

In the Bookbag Last (Coupla) Week(s):

It's been an embarrassment of riches over here. Seriously, I have been hopping from book to book, a little sparrow in the middle of a serious picnic at the park, unable to settle down and finish any single offering in a reasonable amount of time because more delicious offerings keep raining down on me!  And I haven't even been to the library to pick up the books I have on hold this week. (I also haven't read one of the books for book club this month, but shhhh, I think I still have a week or so.) I have several more that I am thisclose to finishing, but alas, you'll have to wait to hear about those next time. For now, though...You know how sometimes when you're reading books that you think are completely unrelated but the more you read of each of them, the more you realize that there are all kinds of synchronicities? Yeah, these books didn't do that at all (*giggle*), so enjoy a little literary potpourri and maybe I'll have overlap next time. 

Anatomy of a Miracle by Jonathan Miles
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Southern Lit with that 21st century twist: A Reality Show
Jonathan Miles’s stab at a fictionalized non-fiction project lands like a dart in a bullseye with Anatomy of a Miracle. The unexplained, spontaneous recovery of PFC Cameron Harris’s severed spine of has all the trappings of a true story, complete with a reality tv experience (which, by its very existence, offers truly gothic and cringeworthy developments) - but it offers so much more, too. The unexpected narrative arc, absorbing and well rounded cast of characters, and the author’s lightly applied but heavily considered overarching pronouncements on the meaning of miracles, science, storytelling, and (of course) love all come together to deliver a story that will leave you thoughtful, surprised, and more than a little heartbroken.

Rarely a false note. I felt a little bogged down by the unrelenting recording of the reality show details but I’m not really a tv kinda girl, so your mileage may vary, as they say. Miles’s ability to employ that reality show, however, in the larger cause of de eloping a gothic southern Lit for the 21st century, though - that delighted and impressed me, and made the parts I found a little tedious more than worth their while.

You won’t soon forget the stories of Cameron, his sister Tanya, and the several others who grow to take their place among the principals here. I won’t tell you who they are because that would spoil all the terrific twists and turns that this story holds! And even as you read the fiction, don’t forget that this could very well be some soldier’s story - at least, several aspects of it. Our young vets have suffered more than most of us will ever know or appreciate. And for what? Miles hints at that Gordonian knot, too. 

Truly, a book worth picking up. It covers so much ground, in so many ways, and in such an engaging manner. Southern fiction has a big new name, and I can't wait to see what he comes up with next.  




Red Clocks by Leni Zumas
My rating: 3.5 of 5 stars

Feminist Dystopia with an Easy Grace
Leni Zumas offers a feminist dystopian vision that has the ability to truly terrify readers, largely because it's not a full-blown dystopian nightmare but rather a future America that is all too possible, tweaked as it is with allowances for climate change and the passage of a law that guarantees the unborn the rights of individuals. Her decisions in this regard allow her - and, thus, her readers - to focus on the interior lives of the book's five female protagonists. It's a refreshing approach. Whether readers pick up this book interested in its dystopian vision or its feminist themes, they likely will find themselves reading a book they did not expect to read. For instance, it's not driven by an audacious plot. The author isn't consumed with an agenda of splashy violence. The women in the book still have agency and freedom of movement. In other words, this is no Handmaid's Tale, and (thank goodness) it's not The Power. Instead, it's a well-crafted meditation on whether and how women would live and be evaluated in a world in which what may or may not be growing in their wombs had the same rights as they themselves did. An unwanted pregnancy, a single woman in pursuit of a child, a stay at home mom, a working mother, a female herbalist living on the margins of society, a high-powered local couple without children - how does pregnancy and motherhood affect these people in Zumas's world?

She interrogates her premise with deliberation and care. Because her world is not so very different from the world in which we all now live, Zumas also subtly encourages her readers to consider the ways in which the lives and fates of her characters differ - and approximate - the lives and experiences of women (maybe even the readers themselves? definitely!) today. The result is an unsettling and provocative read.

I really liked this book. It's a solid read, and it's well-written. There were a few unnecessary tangents, though, and at least one story that didn't unfold as much as I really wanted it to. Why she turned coy on that particular story, I don't understand; it didn't match up with the rest of her editorial decisions or the tone of the work overall. I also wish Zumas hadn't been quite so careful in creating her protagonists: the various women run into the problem of becoming sort of approximations of women, because they're pretty stereotypical. I understand why she made the choices she did in this regard, but it creates serious problems when you're considering the reality and continuity of the novel as a whole. Everything in the book is so believable, so subtly chosen - and then you have these paper doll cut-outs as the key characters. It's not to say that Zumas fails to create believable people. On the contrary: they're so believable that what tips you off to the fact that they're made up is the specificity with which they were created. If it weren't for all of the other realism, I'd be willing to say this was created as a fable. But it doesn't READ as a fable. So when I stepped back and considered how the book was put together, I became quite frustrated! Quirkier characters would have been so wonderful here. I wish we could at least have a few of them sneak in during intermission or something! I know I made up a couple to add to the cast as I was reading and then digesting this work.

But don't let my complaints about her character profiles dissuade you. This book is really worth a read, especially if you're new to feminist fiction, and if I were younger and hadn't read as much as I have, I likely would have given this more stars. I know that I'm really looking forward to the next work Zumas publishes, and I'll have high expectations when I pick it up. A thoughtful and considerate new voice in feminist fiction.  3.5/5 stars.



The Sun Does Shine: How I Found Life and Freedom on Death Row by Anthony Ray Hinton
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

An Important And Accessible Book
Most Americans are not aware of the degree to which our justice system is compromised, racist, and increasingly bent to the will of for-profit corporations. The tragic true story of Ray Hinson’s conviction for a crime he didn’t commit and the subsequent 29 years he spent in a 5x7 cell on death row in Alabama before he proved his innocence and won his release, however, will force society’s eyes wide open. And it will be easy to do so, because Hinson tells an easy to follow, compassionate, shocking tale of what happened to him and how. Whether you come to this book with a curiosity about the injustices Hinson suffered or about the grace that he found and the faith that he followed, you’ll come away impressed and transformed. This is a book of suffering, of violence, of broken hearts - and one of resilience, the power of love, and the meaning of faith as well.

That Hinson was able not only to survive 30 years feet from a death chamber, but also thrive and transform many of the men he met during his incarceration speaks to this man’s great good soul and tenacity. He fights not only for his innocence, but also for the reality that he and his peers are people: men of intellect, emotion, vice, and virtue. He unpacks and reframes the narrative of hate that dominates so many of the lives that end up on The Row. He refuses to judge his fellow inmates, and even his guards. His story speaks to multiple narratives: the experiences of young black men in the post-integration era South, the crippling legacies of racial apartheid and hate, the ways in which even the most open and powerful justice system in the world has been corrupted and repurposed for agendas that have nothing to do with justice. There are subtler stories, too - the difference between the southern black experience in 1985 vs 2015, the ways in which education and loved experience has grown flimsier and more brittle in many ways over the last 40 years, the shifting demographics of death row.

There’s anger and injustice in this book, but hilarity and love and hope, too. Despite spending much of his life in a 5x7 cell, Hinson offers his readers both an unfamiliar story and a thoroughly human one. Everyone should read this book. This is America writ small in 2018: a place of shame, hate, grace, complexity - and legacies that have yet to be decided.

__________________________

I've read several other books in the last few weeks, but these were the ones I really wanted to share with you. If none of them sound appealing, please take a gander on Goodreads, where you can always view all my reviews! 


Watch This Space:
In the next installment of Bookbaggin' It, I'll begin my new column (section?): "Beyond Books." I bet I'm not the only one in the world who subscribes to a fair number of magazines and journals...and fail to read them thoroughly even though I've chosen them specifically because I know they have excellent offerings! My subscriptions fall into a couple of categories: global news, art of all kinds, and American politics. When it comes to news, it's all too easy, especially these days, to get sucked into just reading headlines, twitter feeds, news digests, and so on, while true analysis and commentary languishes. But we, the literari, have a responsibility to read the good stuff! The stuff that will help us not only understand what's happening in the world, but how it relates to what's already happened, and why it matters. And when it comes to art, how else are we supposed to keep an eye out for really excellent new books and awesome new artists if we don't know who's out there on the cusp of publication or installation? I don't want to be someone who only reads the big publishers. I don't wnt my ideas and my imagination to be formatted by someone who created a logarithm and decided that such and such book or a certain art display was going to be a hit. I want to find the little diamonds out there, see artists evolving in real time! Don't you? It's one of the reasons that I order books from a couple of small publishing houses, such as New Directions, And Other Stories, and Tin House. I generally love their authors. I want small houses to succeed! I want the 21st century to truly be the most expansive and creative of any that have preceded it. I'll get off my soapbox now, but...ya know. I just want to see what's out there, and I want you to see it, too. So I'm going to start offering brief summaries and reviews of some of the magazines and journals to which I subscribe. I hope you enjoy it. Maybe you'll even be inclined to order one or two of them yourself! Please let me know.

In This Week's Bookbag:
I'm on the verge, finally, of finishing Swimming Lessons by Claire Fuller, No Turning Back: Life, Loss, and Hope in Wartime Syria (SO many notes on this one. Such an important and of the moment book!) by Rania Abouzeid, and Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck. I also just started House of Angels by Luis Alberto Urrea, and Madeline Miller's Circe just appeared on my Kindle this week - FINALLY! If you haven't read The Song of Achilles by Miller, you truly are missing out. I've been waiting with bated breath for this release since I closed the book on that one a couple of years ago. All signs sort of point to that one winding up at the front of the pack once I finish up Abouzeid and Erpenbeck. Maybe you should pick it up, too, and we can read along! Would anyone be interested in having a little book discussion? We could just pick a book a month and chat about it on my FB page? Let me know your thoughts. 

Happy Reading!

___________________________
If you're enjoying my blog, please share it with your favorite book-reading friends and neighbors. You can sign up for email notices when a new entry has been posted by clicking the "Subscribe" button at the top of the page, set your calendar to remind you to check in with me on Friday afternoons or Saturday mornings (I try to have this out the door by 4pm on Fridays so we can all start our weekends reading!), or you stop by and like Friends of Bookbaggin' It on Facebook, if you're a social media sort. There you'll find my weekly blog updates as well as some fun links and the occasional musing. Hope to see you soon and thanks for reading!