She fought for justice for all, against mustaches. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Dissent collars and statement earrings and glasses. The right in the world feels so very wrong today. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Thank you for all you have done. We'll be persistent.
On your eighth birthday . . .
I shut your bedroom door, as quietly as I could, to keep the cat out, but you woke up anyway, a full hour earlier than normal. Sleep still in your eyes and with your over-sized pink nightgown, a shoulder peeping out playing peek-a-boo. I wished you a happy birthday and ensconced you in a too-tight hug before you plopped yourself on the sectional and watched YouTube Kids videos until it was time to get ready for school.
When we walked out to my blue Buick, I told you to look in the front yard for a surprise. Granny had the yard Sign Gypsy-ed, and it shouted “Happy 8th Birthday Little Thing” to the entire neighborhood for the whole day. We requested a cat theme, but they gave you a purple, pink, gold, and gray girly display instead. It featured a present-laden birthday llama; I promise I didn’t request it. Your eyes widened in delight at the surprise, and your grin, oh that grin baby girl, it was so wide that you would have thought that we surprised you with a trip to Disney World.
I jammed to Taylor Swift’s Red album while driving, and you, as always, continued to watch YouTube Kids, a video about fairy circles. You chimed in with “I knew you were trouble when you walked in” in all the right places like you were a tiny background singer on autopilot. Nana and Papa Blob called to sing you happy birthday. Papa Blob butchered “Happy Birthday” even worse than he did when you turned seven. When we stopped at the last, long red light before reaching our destination, you said your throat hurt a little. I told you to grab your water bottle, which I normally wouldn’t send with you but the school’s water fountains are turned off because of coronavirus, but you informed me that I didn’t pack it. Then I realized that I didn’t pack you a snack either. Momentarily, horrible mother guilt mindset kicked in, how dare I not pack my baby girl water and snack on her birthday, but then I remembered the glove department emergency snacks and figured I’d steal a coworker’s extra bottle of water for you. At least I managed to tuck some birthday Oreos into your lunchbox, I thought.
You pulled on your favorite, pink kitty mask, adjusting it over your ears and moving its llama lanyard out of your face, after you climbed out of the backseat. I’m always afraid you’re going to tumble out and break your femur or your head wide open because the backseat isn’t roomy and your backpack is heavier than you are. Your gold headband with the beaded bow twinkled in the early morning light. The sky is pink you said. Half a moon hung in it too. You seemed droopy, but I chalked it up to your early morning wake up.
In the library, your friends surprised you with a card. One of your friends, the librarian’s daughter, tried to gift you the library’s copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
When you climbed into my car after school, you were wearing a different mask, the backup one covered in conversation candy hearts. I asked How was your day? Did you have a good birthday at school? You huffed, Yes, but I had TWO nosebleeds AND I’m getting da bad sneezes. I heard the congestion, phlegmy and liquid, in your normally chirpy voice. I made sure a tissue box was in arm’s reach of your seat and passed back the only pair of sunglasses, a cheap promotion from a college bar–fire engine red with Captain Morgan written on the side, in the car to help combat your sneezes. After you let down your wildly long hair from its daily ponytail, you sighed in relief. You looked too grown and cool, like a snuffly badass.
I offered you birthday dinner from anywhere, but you just wanted noodles, edamame, strawberries, and chocolate milk. You worked on your homework while I was in the kitchen, but before I could finish dinner, you escaped into your room’s darkness, hiding from the sunlight like a vampire. Da bad sneezes lived up to their name.
Granny came over for cake, ice cream, and “Happy Birthday.” We couldn’t find a candle. The week before, you declared you wanted a Harry Potter scavenger hunt, complete with a Hermione Granger Halloween costume to wear while scavenging. So even though I’d already spent the money I had set aside for your birthday, I made it happen because COVID-19 sucks and you couldn’t have a party. I spent an hour writing clues and wrapped your presents the night before. The scavenger hunt was so worth it. You looked exactly like a tiny Hermione Granger/Emma Watson when you donned your Gryffindor robes. The clues lead you to Hermione’s wand, some LOL Surprise Dolls, Floop, a glittery pink phone stand, the Knight Bus LEGO set, and a build your own robot set. You loved all the gifts. Your eyes sparkled and you twirled and magic-spelled your way through the clues, but I could tell that you were feeling puny.
You played with your Floop and then tried to build the robot with Daddy, which was a silly idea because Daddy was broken. He was having surgery the next morning to repair a ruptured biceps tendon and had been sporting a sling for two weeks. I had been outside walking and would have argued against even opening its box. Luckily, your aunt, uncle, and cousin in Illinois Facetimed you, and I put the robot away. You talked with them for quite a while, showing off your completed LEGO sets and your rainbow artwork displayed on the refrigerator, and all of a sudden, you got that I-can’t-function-any-longer-look-in-your-eye, and asked your aunt, Is it okay if I go to bed now? And you abruptly ended the conversation–because you were done with the day, even though it was your birthday.
You met Buckbeak before you went to bed because you insisted that I read to you despite your yawns and your sneezes. We listened to Lady Gaga’s and Ariana Grande’s Rain on Me, for the millionth time, while I braided your hair. I turned the lights off, put the cat away, brought you some water, and turned on your nightlight. You climbed out of bed, no longer able to form words, and tried to turn your night light off, too bright for your sneezy eyes. You accidentally looked directly into it, starting an uncontrollable sneezing fit. I turned it off. You climbed back in bed and closed your eyes.
You were snuffly and ethereal.
And I tucked you in, my little tuckered-out birthday girl.
I had a meh reading month. What about you?
Approach my August mini book reviews with caution. Here’s what you shouldn’t read (and four books you should)!
Anna K: A Love Story (Anna K #1) by Jenny Lee–published 2020–YAL romance/retellings–three stars: I never read book blurbs fully before diving into a book, and sometimes it backfires worse than taking a sip of Coke when you’re expecting unsweet tea but occasionally I’m rewarded with an unforeseen, delicious book flavor. Anna K is room temperature water. Parts were witty and then others were listy. It’s Crazy Rich Asians plus Gossip Girl, but it lacks the glamorous good fun the characters in those series have so it’s hard to get past the entitlement here. I liked Dustin (because he isn’t entitled), but he’s choppy.
The Stranger by Albert Camus–published 1942–classics–three stars: I’m not exactly sure what I just read here. Mind you, the writing is startlingly clear, but . . . I’m confused as to why the protagonist killed another person. And just who is “the stranger”? The protagonist? The guy who the protagonist kills? Imma just back away from this one slowly like Homer Simpson disappearing into the bushes.
Of Curses and Kisses (St. Rosetta’s Academy #1) by Sandhya Menon–published 2020–YAL romance/retellings–two stars: For the love of books, y’all! When am I going to learn my lesson? Once again, I walked into a book without reading the blurb and ended up with another retelling–this time a Beauty and the Beast varietal. This is the most unimaginative, repetitive retelling I’ve ever read. There’s a bunch of bratty rich kids sent to a boarding school in the middle of Colorado. Woohoo, another story featuring children of the one percent! Jaya and her sister, Indian princesses, enroll there after a scandal at home. Jaya finds out that her family’s nemeses–the Emersons–have a son that attends St. Rosetta’s too, and she plots to use her feminine wiles to seduce him into destroying his family’s good name as revenge for destroying her family’s good name. She’s beauty. He’s beast. There’s nothing original here, and it gets too teach-y. However, Menon can rock a metaphor; that’s the only reason I finished reading this. Read A Curse So Dark and Lonely instead.
Something to Talk About by Meryl Wilsner–published 2020–LQBT romance–one star: I don’t often distribute one-star ratings, but there’s nothing that makes this read stand out. Jo, a Hollywood producer, invites her assistant Emma to accompany her to an awards show, not as a date, but as a buffer between Jo and the paparazzi. Rumors swirl anyway, and the two deny that they have feelings for one another. Zero character development? Check. Generic, boring writing? Check check.
House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin A. Craig–published 2019–YAL fantasy/retellings–two stars: Another freaking retelling???? I’m smarter than my August book choices, promise. A reimagining of The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Again, no character development. Book lovers, throw a four or five star read my way soon like a life preserver. I’m drowning in a salty sea of terrible writing and its sorrows.
The City We Became (Great Cities #1) by N.K. Jemisin–published 2020–fantasy–four stars: Thank. God. Leave it to Jemisin to rescue me. I loved this more than Jemisin’s The Fifth Season. Each borough of NYC manifests as a person, and those people must find each other in order to save the city from alternate universes. While the writing glows, the judgments and themes further illuminate Jemisin’s voice. Take a look: Innocence is nothing but a ceremony, after all. So strange that you people venerate it the way you do. What other world celebrates not knowing anything about how life really works? And But these people are always gonna tell themselves that a little fascism is okay as long as they can still get unlimited drinks with brunch! Don’t get me wrong, the novel is slow at first because it focuses on establishing the different characters and what they are doing when outside forces attack the city. It gets explain-y too at times when I didn’t think that certain plot points needed further clarification; I mean, it is a fantasy. Reading funk–officially over!
God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything by Christopher Hitchens–published 2007–nonfiction–three stars: He fails to outline any new arguments in his position, and his tone is just so damn disdainful of believers.
You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson–published 2020–YAL LGBT romance–three stars: Moment of honesty: I can see the appeal to teenage readers here, and that’s why I rounded up. Liz, a band nerd, has gotten into the school of her dreams but didn’t get a much-needed scholarship. At her rich, suburban Indiana high school, prom is a big deal, and king and queen win not just crowns, but big buck scholarships as well. So, she decides to run for prom queen despite the odds against her. At the first meeting, she meets Mack, a new girl also running for court, and Liz is smitten-smacked. So where do I start? This high school is ridiculous. What high school makes prom a scholarship pageant? At one point, Guy Fieri caters an event (maybe prom itself? I can’t remember) . . . I mean, come on! The school has its own social media app, lording over Snapchat and TikTok and the like, just like in Tweet Cute. Also, is this a thing now? Where individual high schools have their own apps that trump mainstream social media? Also, Mack just so happens to be cousins with a member of Liz’s favorite band. And they just so happen to go on their first date to that favorite band’s show and then later on in the novel the lead singer surprises Liz at school. And all that just fits too nicely. And, what new girl runs for prom court? The people who run the school are idiots, and I hate seeing that repeatedly in YAL. And it took me forever to read this book because I just wasn’t that invested in it. The writing is cute-ish though, and Liz and Mack’s relationship will be relatable to high schoolers. And this cover? Swoon!
Brunch and Other Obligations by Suzanne Nugent–published 2020–contemporary fiction–four stars: The title had me at brunch despite the fact I’m not a huge fan of that whole let’s-combine-two-meals-into-one-on-the-weekends-meal vibe. Stop your gasping. If you had the stomach problems I do, you’d feel the same way. Brunch menus are limited and often revolve around gluten, making it damn near impossible for me to find a meal that I can actually eat AND fill me up, and Bloody Marys are the worst (fighting words I know) and mimosas give me heartburn to rival a pregnant woman’s who’s carrying a baby with a headful of hair. Anyway, when their mutual friend Molly dies, three women who grew up together but barely tolerate each other respect their friend’s last wishes and eat brunch together once a month. Because it’s light-hearted and funny, I’ll overlook its predictability. It gets a bottomless-beer cheers from me.
The Pull of the Stars by Emma Donoghue–published 2020–historical fiction–three stars: In Ireland during the 1918 flu outbreak, Julia works as a nurse in a large hospital in a small unit where pregnant women with the flu are treated. The first day takes up around 50 percent of the book and moves at a glacier’s pace. I might be mistaken, but the novel doesn’t possess a plot. However, it’s so very readable, and the last 30 percent makes up for a draggy first half. Unfortunately, it doesn’t use quotation marks to indicate dialogue. Vomit emoji.
Want by Lynn Steger Strong–published 2020–contemporary fiction–four stars: Despite having rich parents and being Ivy League-educated, Elizabeth and her husband struggle to make ends meet for their family while living in New York City. I loved how deep this novel dived into Elizabeth’s mind and how it explored her complicated friendship with her best friend from home Sasha. It felt like it needed more editing, and then on closer inspection, I liked its rambly stream of consciousness. Strong did a nice job portraying the ins and outs of charter school teaching in a big city (not that I’ve ever worked in one, but it’s how I envision it). I don’t know if I would recommend this to everyone, but if you err more on the side of literary, it’s worth the read.
Pericles by William Shakespeare–drama/classics–three stars: Not his best? Pericles, a king, thinks his wife dies during childbirth, so she receives a pirate’s burial. She washes ashore on a distant land still alive. After his wife’s supposed death, Pericles leaves his newborn daughter with a trusting family in a different foreign land. After the girl grows up, the family tries to have her murdered, but pirates kidnap her instead. When Pericles returns to check on her, he’s told she’s dead. Then at the end, they’re all reunited like the whole thing isn’t completely implausible anyway . . .
The Bird and the Sword (The Bird and the Sword Chronicles #1) by Amy Harmon–fantasy–published 2016–four stars: Because of a curse before her mother’s murder, Lark can’t speak, but with her inner voice, she can bend animals, nature, and inanimate objects to her will. Living in a world where magic is banned, her silence keeps her safe. When the king absconds with her to ensure her father’s fealty against battling unnatural magical creatures that threaten the kingdom, she must find her voice to keep the realm safe. My friend from high school pointed me in Harmon’s direction, and I must say, Harmon’s writing is magic and a welcome reprieve. What prevented this from five-star status? A predictable storyline.
As always, I welcome discussion!
Like any teacher who has started the 2020-2021 school year, I am trudging uphill to get a handle on teaching my curriculum in a digital world. Who am I kidding? We’ve been “in” school for three weeks, and I still won’t even get to the state-mandated curriculum until Tuesday. Like I said in a previous post, “I feel more like tech support than an actual English teacher” at this point. And in this new realm of almost fully digital teaching (I’ve gotten rid of all paper including books this year), these are the key factors that I’m worried about.
I’ve got all kinds of other things on my mind, and I know the above is all rambly and gluey and incoherent in places, but at this point, I’m not worried about being eloquent.
And I’d love for all those Higher Ups in education, whether at the school level, district level, state level, or national level, to be alright with their workdays being recorded and listened into by whoever just so happens to walk by while they’re being live-streamed into people’s houses. Just saying.
invisible students cameras clicked off and microphones muted can't even mark them truant because i'm teaching invisible students invisible students masks hiding their faces making them feel stupid and like mutants because i'm teaching invisible students who don't want to talk because nothing is normal the People in Charge have stopped offering improvements because we're teaching invisible students living in the paranormal ghosted translucent the People in Charge are being imprudent because They don't care that we're teaching invisible students
If you’re not a teacher, have you checked in with your teacher friends who went back into the classroom this week?
Sent them a silly gif of encouragement via text message?
Venmo-ed them twenty bucks towards a splurge-y bottle of Pinot Noir for them to unwind with over the weekend?
Offered your ear for them to vent their frustration?
Or at least liked their end-of-the-first-week-with-students-during-a-pandemic Facebook post?
You have?
Good.
Because it was probably rough on them. It definitely was overwhelming over here in Mrs. Ram Jam land.
I made it through the first two days of only in-person learners just fine, but by day two’s end, my throat was on fire. From lack of use due to a five-month hiatus or just the normal back-to-school-first-week-malaise–or so I thought.
Where I teach in Louisana, educators are teaching in-person learners and virtual learners simultaneously, and the first day with both, our third day, was particularly chaotic. Because the district’s network broke. I didn’t have high expectations to make it through much, but the whole experience was frustrating for learners and teachers both.
I woke up Thursday morning with a cough and a headache on top of my sore throat. I made the responsible choice and stayed home for the day, and my awesome principal let me teach from home. Google Meet didn’t work during first block nor second block, so I didn’t get much done with those students, but my last two classes went much more smoothly. Individual students kept having issues with their devices, Google Docs and websites lagging or failing to load, and Google Meet crashing.
I felt even worse by the end of my last class. My doctor squeezed me in for a quick phone visit and ordered a COVID test for me, telling me to stay home for a week even if I tested negative because I have no immune system with all the medicine I’m on for my ulcerative colitis.
So I taught from home again yesterday, and while it went a million times better than the previous day, it was still glitchy and slow and crashy and frustrating for students experiencing tech issues.
And it’s really hard to figure out how to help them when you’re not IRL in front of them.
I also don’t have a good gauge of how engaged they are or even how much work they’re completing while they’re logged into virtual class, if they can even get logged in, because it’s impossible to run a Google Meet, answer their questions, help students troubleshoot tech problems, check my email for other issues, AND log into 20 different individual students’ Google Docs at the same time to check their progress.
Here are my takeaways from week one:
As of right now, I feel more like tech support than an actual English teacher. And while I’m hopeful that this will pass and I’ll get into my groove, my Ram jam, of teaching poems, The Odyssey, the Hero’s Journey, symbolism, allegories, words, and writing, I’ve come to terms with our new teacher reality and I’m going to remain dedicated to not sugarcoating what we do to the general public (even though I approach it through the veil of humor sometimes).
Unrealistic expectations have been placed on teachers and students during this pandemic, and teachers need to speak out about it.
I encourage every single educator out there to share their bad and their ugly just as much as they’re sharing their good.
(Good news: I don’t have the coronavirus! I got my results yesterday afternoon.)
Monday is the first in-person learning day for my students. Wednesday is my first day teaching both virtual and in-person learners at the same time.
[Gulps. Takes a deep breath. Sings to herself “Everything’s gonna be alright. Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye. Everything’s gonna be alright. Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye.”]
https://tenor.com/view/good-cold-morning-lullaby-shawn-mullins-gif-15555338
I can’t express to you how utterly mush-for-brained and overwhelmed I am right now (as are all teachers at this point). I’m going to be spending my weekend curled up in a little ball of denial on my couch singing real lullabies to myself, not the 90s rock variety, conserving brainpower and energy for the Herculean task of navigating in-person and virtual teaching simultaneously next week.
Can I do it? Absolutely, but you better be damn sure I’m gonna fuck it up spectacularly for a while–because I have to do eighty million and five things at one time.
My teacher desk set up includes three different computers. I can’t even count to three right now without needing a break between two and three. I’ve got Computer #1 hooked up to my SmartBoard that I’ll be running a Google Meet on for my virtual learners. Computer #2 I’m using to join the Google Meet, so I can interact with my virtual learners. Computer #3 is in charge of ALL OF THE OTHER THINGS.
I’ve got my Britney Spears headset (I don’t know how to use it yet, but, whatevs.), and you better believe that I’m gonna pretend that I’m a pop star while donning it.
https://tenor.com/view/britney-spears-turn-around-smiles-pretty-gif-15473483
And I’ll probably get distracted by it to the point where I forget that I’m supposed to be teaching and operating three different computers at the same time and making sure that the students who are physically present are behaving and learning and healthy and socially distancing and wearing their masks and not-convinced-that-Mrs.-Ram-is-mentally-unstable. (Who am I kidding? I want them convinced that I’m insane.)
So, there’s all that.
Plus, can we talk about my BIGGEST concern for this school year? How am I going to pull all of this off without dropping expletives like a sailor while I’m doing it? For realz. I’m doomed. So. So. So. Fucking. Doomed. Fuck.
(I joke. I joke. But seriously. I’m doomed. My cursing has gotten a smidge out of control as of late.)
Think happy thoughts for all teachers and students as the school year starts.
We need all the good juju you can throw our way.
And throw some other stuff our way too if you can–like soap, Lysol, Clorox wipes, etc. You could literally throw a bottle of liquid Dial handsoap and hit me with it in the face, and I would thank you for the abuse as long as you were donating the handsoap to my classroom.
I had a fantastic reading month. So many good reads.
An Ember in the Ashes (An Ember in the Ashes #1) by Sabaa Tahir–published 2016–YAL fantasy–four stars: Considering I’ve been let down more often than not in recent months with YAL fantasy, this was a much-needed surprise. When Laia’s grandparents are murdered and her brother is taken captive by the Empire, Laia joins forces with the Resistance, becoming a slave and a spy to free her brother. A cadet named Elias, the bastard son of the vicious Commandant, wants nothing more to escape his fate, but soon discovers that destiny has other plans for him, including colliding with Laia. As a fantasy reader, the first couple of chapters are always the hardest for me. It’s difficult to orient myself in a made-up world, and if I can’t find solid footing after committing myself to 10 percent of the book, I often give up. At first, this book’s minimal worldbuilding took a bit too long to establish itself, but once I crossed the threshold, I was quickly swept up by the tale. The writing isn’t anything fancy, and the whole in-love-with-the-enemy-archetype is used, but the story twists and enchants anyway. Towards the book’s last 25 percent, the chapters end on crescendoing cliffhangers, and what’s not to love about that?
Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools by Monique W. Morris–published 2016–nonfiction–four stars: Morris delineates how the education system fails to meet the needs of Black girls and how often they get overlooked because there’s so much emphasis on Black boys. She critiques schools’ zero-tolerance and uniform policies, schools’ lack of mental health services, teachers’ approaches to discipline, etc. This book breaks my heart because it further highlights how entrenched systemic racism is in the current educational model. All schools and teachers need to approach discipline through the lens of intersectionality, and more mental health services need to be provided for students so they can find success in the classroom instead of being criminalized by a system that fails to meet their needs. When will this country start shoveling money into public schools?
Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas–published 2020–contemporary fiction–three stars: What a strange, strange little book. Catherine House is like an Ivy League school, but it’s not. It’s super selective, but its students are misfits and drunks. It’s prestigious and beautiful, but it’s crumbling. The curriculum is challenging, but it’s nonlinear and overlapping. At first, Ines struggles to find meaning while navigating the mysterious campus and can feel that something deeper, more sinister, lies at the heart of the school. A selective group of students focuses their work on plasm, and Ines becomes obsessed with it, even though it’s not her focus of study. Eventually, the mystery behind plasm and Catherine House reveals itself, forcing Ines to make the one choice she doesn’t want to have to make. This book has so much potential, but . . . the plot meanders and takes a really long time to come together, probably because it takes place over such a long time frame. The storyline could have been tidier if it had taken place over a year instead of three. For such a complicated, unconventional adult story, the Lexile level came off as lower middle grade. If you’re big into atmosphere, I could see you really enjoying this book, but for the most part, it doesn’t have mass appeal.
Why Women Have Better Sex Under Socialism: And Other Arguments for Economic Independence by Kristen R. Ghodsee–published 2018–political nonfiction–four stars: An interesting argument on how capitalism commodifies and inhibits women from achieving financial freedom from men. In a capitalistic society that runs on women’s unpaid work and stereotypical gender roles instead of providing appropriate public social assistance programs that help women get access to birth control and pay for costly child care, women can never truly be free nor truly enjoy sex. I’m interested in learning more about sexual economics theory.
The Marriage Game by Sara Desai–published 2020–romance–two stars: After a breakup with an influencer and a viral retaliation video, Layla moves from NYC back to Cali to start her own personnel business. Her parents who own a Michelin-starred Indian restaurant have the perfect office space for her in their building, but Layla’s dad leased the space to Sam, a former doctor turned corporate for-hire-to-fire man. Layla refuses to give up the space, and Sam, instantly attracted to Layla’s sass and curves, decides to let her stay put, as long as she lets him help her weed her way through a list of potential husbands from an arranged marriage website. A cute concept hides in this book, but the third person omniscient narration obscures it. The narrative jumps around and has gaps. When Layla goes on her dates with potential husbands, Sam tags along, and they both hold conversations with one another like the third person isn’t there. Every man that Layla goes on a date with is a stereotype. At the end of the novel, Sam hasn’t learned anything and is still an asshat when it comes to his sister, but he gets the girl–and isn’t that the only thing that matters in a romance novel at the end?
Sex and Vanity by Kevin Kwan–published 2020–contemporary fiction/romance–two stars: Kwan can do wrong. Sex and Vanity fails to rise to the juicy, dishy vivaciousness of the Crazy Rich Asian series. The end.
A Torch Against the Night (An Ember in the Ashes #2) by Sabaa Tahir–published 2016–YAL fantasy–four stars: Book two picks up right where the first left off, maintaining a breakneck pace through the first several chapters. Helene’s first-person perspective is introduced into the narrative alongside Laia’s and Elias’s. Book two isn’t quite as good as the first one, worrying me about where the storyline is going to go in the next two books. The plot in the middle of the book felt like boring filler, which I find tends to happen with longish YAL fantasy reads, but the pace picked up again towards the books’ end. In contrast to the pace, the magic reveals itself slowly, which tortures me. When I’m reading fantasy, I expect magic, magic, magic. The Commandant’s spy is revealed, and who it is is an interesting twist. I’ve got high hopes for book three.
Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone by Brené Brown–published 2017–nonfiction/self-help–four stars: Somehow, the universe knew when to place this book in my hands. I could hear the lyrics of my favorite the Chicks song, “The Long Way Around,” buzzing around in the soundtrack of my mind the whole I time I was reading:
Friends and Strangers by J. Courtney Sullivan–published 2020–contemporary fiction–three stars: Elisabeth, a new mother and an author, hires Sam, a student at an all women’s college, to watch her baby three days a week while she writes her next book. Despite their age difference, the two women become close. Elisabeth meddles in Sam’s life, and Sam envies Elisabeth’s privilege. I’m conflicted here. Friends and Strangers parallels Kiley Reid’s Such a Fun Age in so many ways–highlighting themes ranging from racism, ageism, elitism, etc.–but it lacks the humor and the depth that Such a Fun Age achieves. Sullivan covers so many topics–new motherhood, capitalism, cattiness, influencers, IVF, Facebook forums and on and on–through her characters’ conversations, but it’s presented in a way that’s already been done before. There is no fresh take. And while she writes with ease, the sentences are short, as are the paragraphs, and sometimes plot events are just listed in a paragraph consisting of a sentence or two before moving on to the next one. I did like how Sullivan switches out of the present narrative to describe past events and does so frequently, which is refreshing. And I liked how even though this is told from Sam’s and Elisabeth’s third-person limited perspectives, it felt like I was reading a story in the first person. Maybe if I hadn’t read Such a Fun Age first, I would have enjoyed this more.
The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich–published 2020–historical fiction–three stars: Set In 1953 on a Chippewa reservation in North Dakota, Thomas works as a night watchman for a factory. When he receives notification that Congress is posing a bill that would take the reservation away from them, he devises a way for community members to travel to Washington D.C. to speak out against it. A young woman named Patrice, Thomas’s niece, works in the plant but takes some time off to travel to Minneapolis to look for her sister who’s missing, getting kidnapped upon stepping off the train in the city and swept up with the same shady business circle that her sister found herself in. Patrice escapes, returning without her sister but with something just as dear, changed by her time in the city. I adored Patrice as well as Wood Mountain and the wide range of characters and their development. Erdrich speckles the pages with deep, well-written thoughts like: Things started going wrong, as far as Zhaanat was concerned, when places everywhere were named for people–political figures, priests, explorers–and not for the real things that happened in these places–the dreaming, the eating, the death, the appearance of animals. I saw refreshing historical vernacular like “gadabout” and “toothsome,” which I’m totally stealing and am going to try to bring both of them back into fashion. Think I can get my 8th graders to start describing their crushes as toothsome instead of snacks? But, she structured the book in such a way that it detracted from the story. You’re not only privy to Patrice’s and Thomas’s stories as the focus of the third person narration, but at least 15 other characters as well— including a ghost and a couple of horses that ditch the homecoming parade to mate. The chapters are short and told from MOSTLY one perspective and then switch to a new point of view in the next, making it hard to get invested in any one character’s story at a time. Then other parts of the story are told in the first person, and another part is like a transcript. Verdict: too many perspectives and too many different structures. Also, I found my eyes glazing over, like Thomas’s from lack of sleep while he’s on night watch, while reading about him on night watch. This book is based on the real-life events surrounding Erdrich’s own grandfather, and the story is totally interesting, but the structure will make the book inaccessible and unpalatable for some.
Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia–published 2020–historical fiction/horror–four stars: The Haunting of Hill House meets Jane Eyre with hints of “The Yellow Wallpaper.” In Mexico during the 1950s, gorgeous, headstrong Noemí gets sent from Mexico City by her father to check on her married cousin Catalina, who has sent a disturbing letter, in a remote part of the country. When Noemí arrives at High Place, the house itself and its inhabits exhibit strange behavior, and Noemí starts having terrible dreams. Determined to rescue her cousin, Noemí refuses to leave until she can escape with Catalina. My only criticism of this novel is that it could have been creepier. Moreno-Garcia layers on repetition, much like Shirley Jackson does in The Haunting of Hill House, subtly at first but oh so effectively. It was nice to watch the imagery of the ouroboros, mushrooms, fairy tales, the color yellow, etc. build into the narrative. At times you don’t know what’s real versus what’s a dream. This was just so well done and such a welcome break in the monotony of a mediocre adult fiction reading streak for me.
We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie–published 2014–nonfiction–four stars: Based on her TEDx talk on the same topic, Adichie provides her own insights on feminism. I’ve been reading oodles of feminist literature this year, and this short essay reiterates ideas outlined in what I’ve already read. If you’re just getting into feminist literature though, this might be a good starting point for you. I did like what she had to say here: Because human beings lived then in a world in which physical strength was the most important attribute for survival; the physically stronger person was more likely to lead. And men in general are physically stronger. (There are of course many exceptions.) Today, we live in a vastly different world. The person more qualified to lead is not the physically stronger person. It is the more intelligent, the more knowledgeable, the more creative, more innovative. And there are no hormones for those attributes. A man is as likely as a woman to be intelligent, innovative, creative. We have evolved. But our ideas of gender have not evolved very much.
The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams–published 1944–play–three stars: I needed to read something in a legitimate honest-to-god book. I’d read 80 ebooks in a row, and I was starting to read books differently. Lucky for me, I have a book that belonged to my grandmother that’s four of Willaims’s plays. I jumped into The Glass Menagerie thinking that I’d never encountered it before, but I quickly realized that I must have read it long ago as it became increasingly familiar. It was pretty okay. I’m going to tackle A Streetcar Named Desire next when I need to touch paper again.
A Good Marriage by Kimberly McCreight–published 2020–thriller–four stars: When an old law school friend calls Lizzie collect from Rikers wanting her to represent him because he’s about to be charged with his wife’s murder, Lizzie doesn’t want to get involved but promises him that she’ll find a lawyer to defend him. After bringing it up with her boss, Lizzie decides to take on the case, believing in Zach’s innocence, but as she digs deeper, she uncovers a hidden ugliness in her old friend’s life and the truth of the crime. Alternating with Lizzie’s perspective, Amanda’s story is told as it leads up to her death. I really, really, really enjoyed this thriller, a thriller miracle for me. The title is multilayered. Multiple storylines and twists come together nicely. I couldn’t put this book down the last 40 percent of it. However, the writing isn’t anything spectacular, and there were a couple of loose ends. I bet this book is going to be Goodreads’s best thriller of 2020.
One to Watch by Kate Stayman-London–published 2020–contemporary fiction/romance–four stars: [Whispers to herself] I will not overanalyze or overthink this read. [A little bit louder now] I will not overanalyze or overthink this read. As a plus-size fashion blogger, Bea is used to internet trolls bashing her. But when she becomes Main Squeeze’s new leading lady, think a cheesier version of The Bachelor, after writing a blog post about the show’s lack of body diversity that goes viral, America and the internet can’t decide if they love her or hate her. Determined not to fall in love on set, Bea shuts down, even though the cast is made up of hunky men. She questions whether they really could fall in love with a girl like her. If you’re looking for something light-hearted and easy to escape into, this is the book for you.
The Swap by Robyn Harding–published 2020–thriller–three stars: At the beginning of the year, I found novels with influencer main characters a novelty. Now, I’m so over it. If I read one more book this year that has a self-centered, stunning influencer as a main character I might consider a reading strike. Freya, a former influencer, lives with her former professional hockey player husband in a glass house in the woods. But this couple is no Carrie Underwood and Mike Fisher. A little lonely, Freya makes friends with a teenaged Low, to whom she gives pottery classes. Low becomes obsessed with Freya and is furious when she makes another friend, Jaime. When Jaime and her husband go over to Freya’s house to do shrooms as a double date (is this, like, a thing?), the night gets out of control when some good, old-fashioned partner swapping occurs. Emotions run high, and the ugly truth behind Freya and her husband’s marriage comes to light. Since when is partner swapping such a thing in books? Maybe it’s just a thriller thing? I mean A Good Marriage featured some swinging too. So here’s the deal: I didn’t hate this thriller, but it wasn’t anything fantastic.
Why We Can’t Sleep: Women’s New Midlife Crisis by Ada Calhoun–published 2020–feminist nonfiction–four stars: To prepare for my impending midlife crisis–hopefully it’s still a good decade away–I decided to read up on what to expect. While this book focuses on Gen Xers, this millennial totally related to the content. This book is particularly great because it features the voices of so many different women and lets other women know that they’re not alone.
The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett–published 2020–historical fiction–five stars: Raised in a small Louisiana Black community, light-skinned twin sisters Stella and Desiree run away to New Orleans to escape the small-mindedness of their town. The twins’ lives diverge there, Desiree moving to Washington D.C. after Stella runs away without saying goodbye. Desiree marries an abusive man and escapes back home with her daughter Jude. Although Desiree doesn’t want to stay in Mallard, she moves back in with her mother, enrolling Jude in school, where Judes suffers for years in a hostile environment because she’s darker than the other Black children. Stella, meanwhile, makes the decision to pass as white and marries a banker, and even though she’s wealthy and has everything she could ever ask for, her lies haunt her. She too has a daughter, and Stella’s and Desiree’s girls eventually cross paths, forcing the twins to confront their pasts and their mistakes. Bennett is masterful at weaving in and out of different decades and perspectives. I loved how the two generations’ stories interlaced. Add. This. Book. To. Your. TBR. Now. This is the best fiction I’ve read all year.
Aurora Rising (The Aurora Cycle #1) by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff–published 2019–YAL science fiction–three stars: Read Brian Sanderson’s Skyward instead. There are so many eerie parallels between Skyward and Aurora Rising. Both feature female protagonists with latent, world-saving powers, space fighting, and quippy AIs–just to mention a few. Aurora Rising has too many narrators and not enough worldbuilding. Despite this, I can understand why teenagers would like it, but I won’t be recommending it to my students.
(All cover art taken from Goodreads.)
She’s big enough now, on tippy-toes and on ever-lengthening legs, to swipe her allergy medicine off the lazy Susan from the upper cabinet that’s to the left of the stainless steel stove. She’s grown taller and stronger but no matter how hard she presses down on the liquid Xyzal’s child-proofed, plastic cap, she’s unable to master its removal. She sighs in frustration while I think . . . When will her dexterity match her determination? Did her hair grow long enough to reach the tops of her legs, or did her legs grow long enough to reach her hair? How can she be so big and so impossibly little?
She interrupts my thoughts, asking, “Mom, is there going to be any fires?”
She sniffs her medicine, crinkles her nose, and laps the Xyzal tentatively, wary of the medicine although she takes it nightly.
“No sweet girl,” I reply before she careens down the dim, narrow hallway–arms outstretched to alternate touching both sides of the hallway as she goes, ricocheting like a bowling ball off bumpers–to brush her teeth. Her hair, tangled and bleached a light summer brown, drifts behind her, torturing the gray tabby kitty following her. She casts a mischievous smile, a plea that sifts twinkles into her brown sugar eyes, over her shoulder down at the cat.
Before she disappears around the corner, the kitten capitalizes on the plea, bowling into her. He jumps, swiping at her hair.
“Suny! Stop it!” she shrieks, affronted, sounding more like a teenage girl whose little brother has ruined her Instagram worthy ponytail by pulling it than a little thing admonishing a naughty kitten.
And I think . . . How can she be so big and so impossibly little?
She brushes her teeth, changes into her nightgown, climbs into her bed. While I read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets to her, the cat bats around a stray Lego, distracting us both.
It’s her turn to play a song while I braid her hair. “Alexa, play ‘Rain On Me’ by Lady Gaga,” she instructs her Amazon Echo Dot. I start on her right side, combing back her locks with my fingers, dividing it into three sections. I waterfall it three times before grabbing a crunchy section, tacky and wafting hints of apples into the air.
“Did you get applesauce in your hair today?” I ask, ditching the braid and starting over. A whole pouch of applesauce must be ensconced in half her hair.
“No, I got it all over my dress.” She says, rolling her eyes.
“Did you clean it up?”
“No.”
“Did your hair touch the front of your dress today?”
“Maybe.”
“So where do you think the spilled applesauce went?”
Realization dawns in her eyes. “My hair?”
“Next time, clean up after yourself, and put your hair behind your shoulders while you’re eating,” I suggest, barely disguised laughter in my tone.
She shakes her head yes in response and, in time with the poppy dance music playing in the background, croons, “Rain on me, tsunami.”
I shake my head at her and leave her hair loose. It’ll be even more of a disaster in the morning, but I can’t waste any more energy dealing with it.
“Would you rather have applesauce in your hair or open the Chamber of Secrets?” she asks.
“Totally have applesauce in my hair.” A crooked smile steals across my face. “What about you?”
“Samesies!” she giggles.
She curls up into a ball on her bed, surrounded by stuffed animals and stuffed animal-shaped pillows, and I pull her fluffy pink comforter up to her chin. She reaches for her favorite plushie, a small gray and white striped kitty with a turquoise glitter bow and waterfall-colored, glassy eyes.
“You know what you forgot to do today?” I ask.
“What?”
“Feed the invisible chickens in the front yard.”
“Mom,” she draws the word out, making it two syllables, “How many times do I have to tell you? Invisible chickens don’t exist.”
“And how many times do I have to tell you that just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not there? How can you keep letting out pets starve?” I feign distress.
The incredulity dissipates from her face like a balloon slowly leaking air. How much longer can I keep this charade up? I want her to picture invisible chickens pecking around free-range, clucking, and happy with the palm trees and our house in the background forever.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, more dubious than assertive.
“I guess I’ll just have to feed them after I finish tucking you in.”
I kiss her forehead. My lips accidentally brushing the spot where she dabbed it with holy water.
“Good night, sweet girl,” I say while turning off the lights, checking to see that I’ve positioned her nightlight’s reflection properly on the wall so she can make shadow puppets until she falls asleep.
“Mommy,” she calls, tacking on the M and the Y because she’s more little than big in the dark. “I know I already asked, but is there going to be any fires?”
“No sweet girl. But you know what to do if there is one. Go to sleep. I need to go feed the invisible chickens.”
I close her door halfway and pause. She has both hands raised above her, thumbs hooked and twisted, fingers splayed wide open and fluttering–creating a shadow butterfly on the wall. Her tongue sticks out her mouth’s left side, and she bites down on it in concentration, just like she did when she was a chubby toddler building towers out of blocks. My breath hitches because she’s still impossibly little, if only for a little while longer.
you’re thin air
i need an oxygen mask
because you’re blowing thin air
i gasp and i gasp and i gasp
and i sigh
because i can’t breathe your thin air
you’re breathing in lies and breathing out lines
i can no longer ignore the signs
when you’re weaving thick lies out of thin air
your thin air is under pressure
your thick lies are under pressure
think you can press my face into the gas
for your pleasure
i can’t breathe because you’re pressing my face into the gas for your pleasure
i’m under pressure
i’m under pressure
and i’ve got one question to ask
for good measure
how can you be so cold when you’re full of hot air?
i gasp and i gasp and i gasp
and i sigh
if i stay here a moment longer
i’ll disappear into thin air
but my lungs are getting stronger
My lungs have gotten stronger.
I won’t stay a moment longer.
Because I can’t breathe your hot air.
No more oxygen masks
because I’m through with thin air.
You’re out of thin air.
My lungs have gotten stronger.
And you’ve disappeared into thin air.
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com
