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tvcord5-blog · 5 years

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Q&A: The struggle to desegregate LA neighborhoods

In the 1960s, as the Berlin Wall was erected to divide East and West Berlin, a stretch of Alameda Street served a similar role: It was an almost impassable barrier that divided white and black residents of Compton.

The borderlines shifted throughout the early 20th century, but it was Alameda—nicknamed the Berlin Wall—that served as “possibly the longest and most strictly held racial boundary in Los Angeles,” dividing the communities of South LA, says researcher Andrea Gibbons.

In her new book, City of Segregation, Gibbons documents how angry mobs crossed the borders to throw paint bombs and smash windows of black-owned homes and to spray bullets into the office of the local branch of the NAACP.

The book traces how black residents battled violence, abuse, and discrimination in LA’s housing market for nearly a century. It encompasses efforts by black homeowners to contest de jure segregation in the 1920s and the ongoing struggles with gentrification, displacement, and homelessness today.

A former tenant organizer in Los Angeles who now works as an urban housing researcher at the University of Salford, Manchester, Gibbons uses the book to honor the work of civil rights activists and community organizers, including the fearless Charlotta Bass, publisher of the California Eagle.

Below, Gibbons tells Curbed why LA epitomizes a certain version of U.S. urban planning based on suburban sprawl and car-centered transportation, how living in South Central LA for 10 years (before returning to complete her dissertation, which became the book) impacted her view of segregation, and why she remains hopeful in spite of the many obstacles to integration that still exist today.

Curbed: Early in the book, you contend with the question of whether Los Angeles represents the antithesis of urban planning. What led you to conclude that LA epitomizes—rather than rejects—a certain version of American urban planning?

Andrea Gibbons: LA is a good example of Western cities that grew up after the automobile, so it grew in different ways than East Coast cities. LA was never really constrained during its boom period by the need to be able to walk to work, or to take the train. You look at Phoenix, a lot of cities in Texas, they have a similar sprawling nature that’s quite different from Philly or New York. In that sense, it’s quite representative of that kind of city.

But I think what I found it represented was how central race was in its development, and I think that that is true of all U.S. cities. It’s played out in different ways, depending on what city you look at, but all across the country you get the same kind of segregation. You see it everywhere, so in that sense LA is not the pinnacle of urban planning, but it is emblematic of how race has shaped urban planning, and how it’s been a response to that.

In 1964, there were fewer than 500 nationally, but just six years later, there were more than 10,000, with many in LA. How did these groups help perpetuate the segregation that civil rights legislation was, on paper, able to abolish?

One of the primary movers in the formation of the city has been to develop space for white families—and to protect that space. When that became impossible to do legally, people had to look for different ways to achieve the same effect. Homeowners associations had always been very central in all of those efforts.

“One of the primary movers in the formation of the city has been to develop space for white families—and to protect that space.”

I kind of argue that it was a really natural thing when building these developments, especially the community builder phenomena, where you have builders developing huge tracts in different suburban areas. They were already developing the tracts and creating the homeowner association, and using that to defend against the “wrong” kind of person moving in. It was quite easy for them to see that formalizing that a bit more would have the same kind of effect.

I find them fascinating, because, when you think about America, if you have your own property, you can do whatever you want. That seems like a fundamental tenant of what it means to be American. But millions of people have chosen to live in neighborhoods where they can’t do whatever they want.

People got sued for sitting on their lawns in front of their house, one person got sued for wearing flip-flops around the neighborhood, all of this crazy stuff. You just think about all of these neighbors looking at each other, and it’s become this ugly phenomenon that I don’t think is entirely driven by race, but initially had a lot to do with that. It’s in reaction to civil rights, renewed white flight: You just see this quite fearful seeking for safety and high property values.

CORE picketers blocking a parking lot exit at the Southwest Realty Board meeting in 1964 being slowly pushed along by a driver. The four, apparently unhurt, were arrested in the protest for fair housing.

Los Angeles Public Library photo collection

You have strong roots in LA as a former tenant organizer. How did that background orient your work while writing this book?

We were evicted from our house when I was 17, so I think that’s been one of the formative experiences of my life. I don’t believe it’s people’s fault that they’re poor. I was always very driven to change things, and I had a lot of frustration with generally how things are changed. I didn’t even know organizing was a thing, that there was this idea that people could come together to solve their own problems.

The work that I did at Strategic Actions for a Just Economy, or SAJE, in LA was just incredible. We did a lot of work around slum housing, so a lot of it was just to try and get people’s houses into decent, sanitary condition, without the fear of harassment from landlords.

People living in terrible, shitty housing have different priorities than someone sitting in an office trying to think about how to make the city better. It was an incredibly powerful experience, and I remain convinced that it’s one of the key ways that the world will be improved.

We were so good at winning small battles, like the Residential Hotel ordinance. We won so many campaigns against individual landlords, but we weren’t winning the bigger picture, and gentrification was speeding up. I wanted to know more about how we’d ended up where we were, because when you’re doing community organizing you’re so caught up that you don’t have much time to think about things.

Having worked in South Central LA, it was so clear to me that race was central to whatever the answer was. Economics was obviously important, but seeing race, and the levels of segregation that we experience, and the fact that I was often the only white person ever, in room after room, bus after bus, just this lived experience of how horribly segregated it is, the fact that that isn’t central to how we theorize about what’s happening to cities I found incredibly frustrating.

Georgia Taylor, president of the Valley chapter of the NAACP, photographed in the summer of 1963. She told the Valley Times there was a lot local chambers of commerce and service clubs could do if they seriously wanted to help de-segregate the San Fernando Valley. “But no one has offered any help to us. There is a lot they could do, but they haven’t made the effort,” she said.

In many ways, your book is rather dispiriting. You write about civil rights activists fighting for weeks at a time to get one family into a home in an all-white neighborhood, only to have the developer pull out at the last minute. What motivated you as you had to wade through this painful history?

We have come really far, and the book made me really feel a part of this longer history. The U.S. is good at forgetting things. We forget the bad things that have happened, but we also forget the good things. It’s quite amazing to understand this history and the fact that the fight we’re fighting now is in many ways as they were fighting 100 years ago, but it has shifted a lot.

“That what was really powerful about the civil rights struggle: the incredible bravery of someone choosing to live somewhere that wasn’t completely safe.”

A lot of stuff that happens through struggle you don’t really see, because it doesn’t result in a big shift in policy or saving a bunch of units. But with the women that we worked with, what a huge victory when one of them kicked her husband out and changed the locks.

Things really shouldn’t be this way. When I think about what happened to my family at 17, I still have this huge reservoir of sadness and anger, and so many people do.

Losing a home, there’s no way to describe what that feels like, even if it’s a home you didn’t like very much. It’s still a place that has memories, it’s still an important part of your life. That’s what was really powerful about the civil rights struggle: the incredible bravery of someone choosing to live somewhere that wasn’t completely safe.

In a way, we’re probably not now suffering a worse defeat than after they got rid of racial covenants, and they all thought they’d won and segregation would be done, and then it was worse than before. We need to remember that you move forward, then you go back, and you still fight.

Source: https://la.curbed.com/2018/12/3/18114611/city-of-segregation-book-los-angeles-housing-discrimation

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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thecupcakeconsumer · 7 years

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Seeing Red pt. 5 - Infection

A/N: Okay! This isn't exactly a full chapter with a discernable plot so much as it is a series of scenes, but I really liked the quite welcome change. Drabbles, I'd call it, but they're all about 500-750 words, so it's more like short shorts. All filled exactly one letter-size page in 12 pt. font, that's the only deciding factor, and they do go in order of appearance!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (You are here!)

Request: Technically this wasn't asked for. But it contains some thoughts that I discussed with @writers-block0o0. I'm sad to see this end, but, of course, I've got tons more ideas to pursue with this reader! Anyone can request them, or anything Virals-related, in my message box, asks, comments, I really don't care how you reach me!

Navigation: Masterlist is here.

Taglist: @writers-block0o0, @imaginesbyemma, I tag by request for pairings/series/fandoms.

Summary: You may have lost what made you different, but it's resurfaced, and the impacts haven't been buried. In interacting with others in your life, you find relationships redefined, as you share those close to you a part of yourself.

Warnings: Puns, feels, and fluff. All of the segments are puntitled, and we also have (entirely safe) underage driving. I may have, for once in my life, managed to have this entirely clean!

Word Count: 3,131

Other Notes: Female reader. Post-Terminal, pre-Spike. (It goes Shock, Swipe, Spike, Shift, right? It's Shock, Shift, Swipe, Spike. I'll never get that order right).

Furtively Different

“So, that's... that's how it is?”

Shelton narrowed his eyes at you.

The last one of your closest friends you had told, and the look he was giving you was making you start to regret – if only in the slightest – not choosing to keep Tory or Ben or Hi with you for support.

Instead, you had loaded it onto him at lunch, and only now, standing in the hallway outside of your tech classroom, could he react.

You had waited until everything resolved itself to choose to potentially widen the gap between you and the pack – because you weren't sure that you could have faced this divided.

Not that it had made much of a difference. Your flaring abilities had been stripped, experiments conducted, and none of you were near the same... though your infection had started to resurface in the strangest of ways.

Your flare color and abilities hadn't gone away, they had simply... changed. And by that, you meant that the red you had once had danced around the color wheel to a dark blue while Tory and her boys' flaring took the form of light blue eyes and communication almost without borders.

Though you wouldn't really know much about the telepathy. Just as your eyes were darker than the pack's now, the same abilities had been used for a darker purpose, taking advantage of the strength and the individuals but never with any of the same links that seemed to bring together your best friends.

“Yeah, that's how it is now,” you finally answered, bringing yourself back to the moment.

He let out a low whistle. “Tell me, does your Trinity know how to count?”

That was what he was commenting on?

“Ella, Will and Cole were the voluntary members,” you explained. “Chance was the unofficial orchestrator that Will didn't really like to acknowledge, and then I was pretty much the bargaining chip between the two. He got control over them, they got control over me.”

“I know where he lives.”

“So do I,” you added apprehensively. “Wait, what are you saying?”

“Nothing,” responded Shelton a little too quickly. “Nothing, Y/N. I just can't believe I wasn't invited to your girls' night with your boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Awww, Shelousy, I'll sit through all your One Direction albums with you to make it up to you.”

“Do that and I might just forget that you called me Shelousy.”

“Deal!”

Unable to resist the urge, you threw your arms around his neck in a hug.

“This is new. Do we usually hug?”

Despite his words, Shelton's arms tightened around your waist, returning the sentiment.

“We do now. Suck it up.”

He laughed. “Or what? You'll sink your canines into me?”

“Are you really pulling a Hi?” you asked, pulling back to stare fixedly at him. “I would say you're doggone mad.”

The hallway's artificial light glinting off his glasses, Shelton shook his head. “You're barking up the wrong tree.”

“Damn. This is really ruff.”

“Not feeling it here? I can take you to LIRI. You'd fit right in with the labs.”

“Oh, please, I'll have you eating your words so fast you'll be wolfing them down.”

“Just stop,” bemoaned Jason, causing you to startle as you remembered that you weren't the only people in the hallway. “Please. For the good of everyone.”

In perfect unison, you and Shelton retorted, “Don't hound us about it,” before high-fiving.

“But, come to think of it, we really should stop.”

“Agreed.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Driving Me Crazy

Tap, tap, tap.

Dark eyes, the cobalt blue of a deep ocean, regarded idly the repeated motion against the desk.

Heightened hearing could not only hear the tapping, but its resonance through the dark wood.

Your new control over your flaring had taken some getting used to, but you had gradually become more accepting of it.

Curious, how though accepting its effects and giving into the flare, you had never quite consciously come to terms with the fact that you would be forever biologically changed by it.

You couldn't just go to the doctor and have bloodwork done, nor could you ever consider yourself entirely human.

Human, there's a thought. “What's the difference between human and humane?”

“Deep.”

The voice, recognizable immediately, was easy for you to place in the room, and you threw the pencil at Chance without even having to look back from your comfortable seat in the office chair.

He moved out of the way. Damn.

“Can we talk?”

SNUP

Grateful for being able to quell your flare instantly now, you spun around. “About what?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?” you repeated. “Grab the keys.”

Chance, confused, nonetheless walked forward as you herded him out of your room and down the stairs, obliging your request as you pulled on your shoes.

“Where do you want to-?” “Pass the keys.”

“You can't drive. It's not even legal, you don't have a permit.”

When you didn't respond, he crossed his arms over his chest, affixing you with a stern look, in as close to a show of responsibility over you as he had ever gotten.

“Are you asking me to teach you to drive?”

“No. I'm telling you that if you want to talk it'll be about the gear shift.”

Chance continued his staring for just a moment longer before nodding. “Let's go, then.”

For as long as you had known him, you had never seen Chance in the passenger seat of his own car – which served to you as a sign that he

“What's brought this on?” you asked with a side glance, accidentally putting on the wrong turn signal and quickly correcting the mistake. “You're breaking the law to hang out with me.”

“Not my first time breaking the law,” he commented under his breath. “You're my sister.”

You raised your eyebrows at the stop sign ahead of you. “Did you do a genetics test, or...?”

“If I'm responsible for a human life, it's useful for that human to actually communicate. I've made mistakes. Huge mistakes. You were kidnapped. Once by a psychopath, once by the government.”

“And…?”

“And that wouldn't have happened if I had listened to you for once. So I'm here. And I'm ready to talk to you about anything.”

“Anything?” The word was dangerous. It should have been outlawed years ago.

“Anything.”

“Have you ever had gay thoughts for Jason Taylor?”

The glimpse you managed of his expression was priceless. “The hell kind of question is that?”

“Unless,” you added with a wide grin, “you'd like to start this new relationship by lying to me-”

“I haven't had gay thoughts for Jason Taylor!” he sputtered, then paused. “More than once.”

“So you have had them!” Lifting your foot off the gas at a stoplight, you raised the roof triumphantly. “Called it.”

Frying My Nerves

“Eyes on the road, Y/N,” muttered Chance, but the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

“Y/N! Over here!” You looked up curiously, seeing Tory stand and wave at your lunch table.

Approaching, you realized she was the only one there. “Where are-?”

“Oh, they're around. Somewhere. I just wanted to make sure you saw me.” She smiled.

“Tory. We always sit here, and in case you hadn't noticed, there's not that many redheads in this school,” you teased, but nonetheless sat down. “How's it going with you and Ben?”

Sighing, Tory asked, “Since when are you into girl talk?”

“No, we're talking about your boy, silly. Duh.” Leaning forward on your hands, you gave her your attention. “Tell me, does that darkness and mystery about him lend passion to your relationship?”

Her smile twisted downward into an oh, really? look. “Yeah, you're insufferable.”

“You didn't answer the question, unless – wait, you said yeah, was that my answer?”

The other girl didn't answer, only waggled her eyebrows. “It's… a little tense, but also intense.”

“Tense as in…?” you prompted.

“As in I literally made out with your-”

You covered your ears. “Ew, ew, ew! Disgusting! No more boy talk. Ever again. You ruined it.”

“No, we can still do boy talk. With the alarmingly small number of tolerable girls in this school, I need to keep my options open.” Tory grinned nonetheless at your reaction. “He's not bad.”

“Who's not bad? And at what?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“They're both not bad at kissing.”

Groaning, you grit out, “Stop, stop, those are my brothers.”

“Brothers?” she repeated, copying your motion of tilting her head.

“Brothers. Friends. Same difference,” you scoffed, but you wouldn't take it back any time soon.

“It's just… weird.” Tory stole a fry off of your tray, waving it in the air as she spoke. “Ben and I. Normal boyfriends, you'd introduce them to your parents and then your dad would give them the whole what-are-your-intentions-with-my-daughter speech and you'd be super embarrassed. But he and Kit already know each other.” She put the fry in her mouth, brow furrowing. “We haven't really gone on any real dates, either. What did you and Hi do?”

“Well, Hi's never met my parents, if that's what you're asking,” you started, “and Chance doesn't really count, now, does he? They'd hate each other regardless of whether I was involved.”

“That's not what I meant. I meant, what did the two of you do for your first date?”

“I don't remember when it stopped being considered the two of us hanging out and started being dating,” you replied with a shrug. “He asked me to be his girlfriend in front of the Pineapple Fountain, I remember, and I almost shoved him in I was so surprised. I guess that would've been our first date.”

“Wait, he asked you to be his girlfriend there?” Tory snickered.

“What, you never knew? After that he started singing, 'Who's in front of a pineapple beside the sea? Hi's new girl-friend' and I broke up with him for all of five minutes.”

She stole another fry from the tray you hadn't touched. “So when Hi says he's been in more than one relationship with a beautiful girl more than once he's not lying?”

“I don't know. He might just be talking about his mother,” you mused in response with a laugh.

Tory's expression shifted. “You know, I think you're really strong and resilient and loyal.”

“What do you want?” you asked suspiciously.

“It just came to mind, with all that happened. And I'm glad you're willing to talk about it.”

Even so, you knew that part of the reason she forgave you so readily is because after what Ben had done to earn her affection, the grudge that Tory had held impacted her pack and her relationship.

She wouldn't let misunderstanding stand between her and the ones she loved again.

“Sure, sure, just make sure you call my cell and not the house phone next time you need me.”

“That was one time!” Her freckles were obscured by her furious blush.

“Yes, but the fact that you knew I was home and didn't consider Chance and started gushing about how I think I might have a problem, it's heavier than usual, it's painful and-”

“Shut up, shut up!”

Assailance at Sea

“Are you sure?”

Ben crossed his arms over his chest, raising both eyebrows. “Are you saying that I should leave you here on this beach alone, to whatever elements of nature, and your likely death?”

“Yes.” You laid in the sand, sprawling dramatically. “Leave me here. Let me die alone.”

“Get up, Y/N.” Stoic expression still in place, his voice betrayed his amusement.

“I won't burden you. I will become one with the sand. When you come back there will be naught to suggest my existence. You will walk on this beach and think of me, and wonder why.”

“I see why Hi and you mesh well together,” he commented, forcibly yanking you to your feet and onto Sewee. “I also see why he'll kill me if I let you die on this beach.”

“Awww, good to know, you're doing this for your own life and not mine.”

Ben's lips thinned. “That, and the fact that I want to talk to you.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows arched, intrigued. “Recently everyone does. I should start charging.”

“Listen, I… you know Tory pretty well, right?”

“You want to talk about Tory? Really? First time alone with you in ages and you want to talk about your girlfriend? Honestly, you two are boring. Were Hi and I really this bad? Is this karma?”

“Yes,” he responded immediately, then adding, “Us two?”

“I will betray nothing of our private correspondences.”

“What if I offer you dirt on Hi?”

You didn't stop to contemplate for long. “She totally wants you to take her on a date.”

“He's thinking of asking you and Chance to dinner at his place with his parents.”

“No,” you breathed, eyes widening. “How do I know you're not lying?”

He shot you a blank stare. “Do you want to see the messages? “

“Wait, you have messages?” Lighting up, you proposed, “If you show me the messages I'll help you plan a date for Tory tonight on IM. Deal?”

“I'm betraying the integrity of the group chat in doing this,” he droned.

“Please. Like you care about the integrity of the group chat.”

“You know me so well.”

Ben passed his phone to you, and you lit up. “Wow. This is intense. So many messages.”

You frowned. “He really freaked out about this and proposed a role play while no one was on and then started acting as me, Chance, Linus and Ruth all by himself?”

“You know your drama queen.” He glanced over. “Wait, stop scrolling up!”

“You enabled me. You did this. This is international waters. I am bound by no law.”

“It's my boat. You're bound by the law of my fist.”

“Oh, Ben, you know exactly what to say to please a woman.”

Pretending to continue to scroll through the messages even as you had turned off the screen, you smiled to yourself, glad that the two of you were back to the way you always were.

You weren't sharing that much – Ben never had.

He was the closer-to-your-age and less frigid brother Chance wasn't, even if the story would probably be far different if the two of you lived in the same house and he had to drive you everywhere.

Still, he was like family.

“He's got characterization on point. Y/N: Wow, Mrs Stolowitski, these muffins are delicious. Hi: That's not the only delicious thing she's made. Chance: There's only so many things on this table.”

“None of us could read that. It was too painful.”

“It's like fanfiction. Can you imagine people making fanfiction about you?”

“You know Tumblr. It's a cesspool.”

“Morris Island is a cesspool. You're all criminals. Every one of you has committed a felony.”

“I guess we are.” Thinking you weren't looking, Ben broke out a grin. “Some of us steal hearts.”

“Benjamin Blue! You've been spending far too much time with Hi.”

“Any time is far too much time with that clown.”

Walking It Out

“Hey, sexy!”

You froze, hand at your side curling into a fist at the words, a voice you couldn't quite place.

“My beautiful babushka!”

Oh. It was only Hi. “You know that means grandma, don't you?”

Falling into step beside you, your boyfriend shrugged. “Doesn't matter. You'd make a beautiful grandma just like you make a beautiful girlfriend.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“You're blushing. I win!”

“I'm not blushing.” You rolled your eyes. “What's up? Did you just miss your ride home?”

“Worth it for you, but for the record, yes. Yes, I did. However, I have an excuse, and you're going to need to keep going straight here.”

“My house is to the right, though.” Tilting your head to the side, you chanced, “Are you high?”

“Yes, I am Hi, as a matter of fact. And you? Divine.” He grinned, a spring to his step as he half-tugged, half-dragged you in the wrong direction.

“I have a bag. I hope you aren't planning on taking me somewhere where they'll think I'm shoplifting. Or particularly far.”

Hi grabbed the bag off your shoulder. “Solved. Now I have you for as long as I want, right?”

“I finally convinced Chance to cook dinner, so you until my likely death by food poisoning.”

“When's he home?”

“Eight o'clock.”

“Plenty of time, plenty of time!” Your boyfriend smiled wider, if possible. “And I have your bag so you can't run away if you want to get your homework done.”

“Blackmail. Such lowliness you stoop to to get my attention.”

“Your attention is a sweet bliss as I do not deserve.” He grinned. “Guess where we're going?”

“There are so many places in downtown Charleston, I at least need a hint.”

“We've been there before.”

“Yeah, because that narrows down the options,” you drawled sarcastically, but soon processed your destination when one of two distinct fountains came into focus. “We're going to Waterfront Park?”

Hi applauded with a laugh. “You are indeed the genius that I gladly asked to be my girlfriend here. Yeah, we're going to Waterfront Park. You've been...” he drum-rolled on his thighs, “dated!”

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“You don't know that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on,” he replied.

Hi. Ever the charmer.

“Nor do you know that here – in the same park as the Pineapple Fountain, the Charleston symbol for hospitality and the accommodation of our small corner of the country, that which is south of the icy north's frigid and unwelcoming igloos and-”

“You're gushing because you're nervous about what you want to ask me, and you want specifically to ask me if I'll bring Chance – or, rather, he'll bring me – to your house to have dinner with your family because you feel our relationship has progressed enough that you would like me to meet your family, formally, as your long-term girlfriend and love.”

Now at a halt, it took several moments for Hi to regain control of his jaw to close his mouth.

When he finally managed to do so, his first words were, “What. The. Hell.”

Well, sorry, Ben, though it didn't seem that his first instinct was to blame one of the other boys.

“You're smarter than I thought. I mean, not that I didn't think you were smart. I thought you were smart – not smarter than Tory, I mean, I did but don't tell her that, and I guess you two are smart in different ways and-” He stopped, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “So, yes?”

“Yes, I'll have dinner with your family.” Smiling demurely, you added, “If Chance agrees.”

“I'll take my chances.”

He scrambled to find his footing as you attempted to push him into the fountain. “Assault!”

A/N: That’s done! I’m glad and sad at the same time. I’m working on something else for this world, and damn, I’ll get to work on a masterlist soon because this is most definitely getting intense. Thanks for reading!

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physticuffs · 7 years

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Hello! I have a question.... what are your favorite books, and why? (I love your blog!)

@smallricochet

Wow, thank you! Took me forever to reply because my first answer got erased when i was halfway through. Rawr. anyway, here’s the thing: i don’t have favorites. I just love books so much i can’t choose! And there are books for different moods, too, or books that i love for different reasons. There are those that i can read anytime because they’re friendly and easy to sink into, but aren’t necessarily the best of anything in a particular aspect. There are books that i have to be in a specific mood to read but that i love more than anything when i am in that mood. There are books that are outstanding in one thing and lacking in another…so i don’t have favorite books, and when i have to think of my favorites, they’re divided by genre. This is gonna be a long post, haha. Without my bookshelf in front of me, there may be some I’m forgetting, but those are the ones that stand out in immediate memory.

Fantasy: most of the books i’ve read would probably count as fantasy if you included YA, but i’m going to break out YA as its own thing because i look for different things now than i did when i was younger. For one thing, the writing style plays a much larger role now for me, which is one of the things that makes Neil Gaiman one of my favorite authors. American Gods is this gorgeous book examining the nature of belief, with such evocative language that i felt like i was taking the journey alongside the characters. The characters themselves are rather stock, but that’s okay–Gaiman has a true sense of the mythic and interweaves old stories with new in a way that captivated me. I also loved The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which just felt…almost more real than our own world. I read the book (it’s quite short) in one sitting, and when i finished i realized i’d teared up. There’s a scene where the main character is immersed in this experience of understanding everything and then is pulled out of that state, and i felt the same way upon closing the book. The sense of the world-beyond-our-world was intense–again, taking the journey with the characters. I adore Good Omens, which was co-written with Terry Pratchett, and i think combines the best of both authors: Gaiman’s sense of mythology, Pratchett’s humor, and their shared love for stories that examine the values individual people hold. Individual values are a theme often repeated in Pratchett’s books, of which my favorites are Hogfather and Thud! because of the beautiful, hopeful characterizations and complex conflicts. Pratchett’s books really carry this sense of optimism and hope for how much better we can be; his characters have this evolving humanity (lol some of them are dwarves and trolls and werewolves) that really strikes a chord with me. Also, those books are fucking hilarious.

I’ve written about Guy Gavriel Kay recently; his novel Under Heaven is remarkable for its beautiful language, fascinating characters, and exciting political plot. I love that niche–historically-based political fantasy–and am really relieved to have found someone besides George R. R. Martin who does it, since Kay is much subtler and doesn’t have Martin’s penchant for shock and gore. I’m about to read every other political fantasy novel Kay has ever written. I used to think that if i could write like anyone i’d want to write like Gaiman, but now that i’ve read Kay’s work, i’d rather write like him, because that’s the genre i’d want to succeed in.

Then there’s Susanna Clarke’s exquisite Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. I know this is very much a love-it-or-hate-it book, and i love it. Actually, i think it’s a perfect novel. I would change nothing about that book; there’s nothing that could make me like it better. The descriptive visual language is rich and flowing, the dry humor is just right, and the mythology she builds is original and forms a perfect pattern. One of the things that stood out to me the most in the book are the names. I’ve never seen an author choose names like her–they’re all lyrical and evocative without being literal. I don’t even want a sequel because the plot is wrapped up perfectly; i just want a whole series set in that world. (Clarke also wrote a short story collection in that setting, The Ladies of Grace Adieu, which is excellent, but does not fulfill my desire for a million more full-length novels.)

Historical fiction: The Lymond Chronicles. This is a masterwork, to the point that the author, Dorothy Dunnett, was knighted for her books being such a huge contribution to UK culture. They’re hard to read, no denying that, but they are unparalleled for incredible descriptive language, depth of emotion, dexterity with shifting viewpoint, epic scope, characters’ journeys and personalities interwoven in fascinating ways…they so far outshine every other work of historical fiction i’ve read that i think i can say that series is my favorite. HOWEVER, the irony of it is, i have never reread those books, except the first. I flick around occasionally to reread passages, but they’re simply too dense to make for good light reading in between all my new reading material. I love Les Miserables too, in the sense that i think it’s one of those almost accidental masterpieces that would never make it to market in full form today. Victor Hugo was a mystic grandpa whose interest in architecture/public infrastructure reeeeally got in the way of his own plot. I can’t HELP but love that book and i don’t even know why, except that Hugo captures the emotions and complexities of youthful rebellion so well, and is deeply respectful to the tragedy of it–not flippant, not over-aggrandizing, but accepting in just the right way. I also wanna give a shoutout/honorary mention to Romance of the Three Kingdoms. (It’s sort of unfair to put it with historical fiction, given the part where a guy’s ghost wanders around beating people up, but like. What else do i call this book.) I mean, it’s not my usual fare, but it well deserves its place as one of China’s four great classics. It’s so different from modern writing, which places a lot of emphasis on knowing individual characters. Three Kingdoms doesn’t give a shit about the inner lives of the characters. This is a story about how empires are formed and fall. it’s a true epic, and a fascinating look into one of China’s most tumultuous historical periods. (most tumultuous, except for all the others. You do you, China.)

Nonfiction: I’ve only rather recently become interested in nonfiction, and most of what i like is just a combination of good writing style and a topic i’m specifically interested in. How Not To Be Wrong, by Jordan Ellenberg–applied math and statistics, written in a very fun way. The Disappearing Spoon and The Violinist’s Thumb, by Sam Kean–a history of the periodic table and genetics respectively; Kean is such an engaging writer and really knows how to draw a common thread through anecdotes. Fermat’s Enigma, by Simon Singh–a history of the quest to solve Fermat’s Last Theorem. Weapons and Fighting Arts of Indonesia, by Donn Draeger–uh, what it says on the cover, but also a very interesting cultural text, although the info is a bit out of date. Walking the Bible, by Bruce Feiler–Feiler travels through the Middle East, examining the historical context of biblical stories; i’m reading his other works now. There also have been a couple books i’ve read for school that i loved–one was a cultural study of Hello Kitty, of all things, and one was about coffee farming in Honduras. Both were for a globalization course, but i can’t remember the titles offhand. I also read Walkable City by Jeff Speck for urban studies, about the importance of building walkability into your urban planning, which kicked off an interest in urban planning for me. I wound up getting three other urban planning books out of the interest generated by that one.

YA: Most of the books that have stuck with me after i read them as a teen had characters i wanted to be friends with or that i strongly related to–books with a lot of analytical, assertive girls, or girls who loved stories and were very imaginative. These include Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery, the All-of-a-Kind Family series by Sydney Taylor (bonus points for multiple girls i related to and they were Jewish), The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall (again bonus points for multiple girls i related to), Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine, and The Princess Academy and The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale. These last three (modern takes on fairy tales) mattered so fucking much to me, and they seriously hold up on rereads. Hale and Levine don’t protect their readers from harsh events, but it’s still fantasy, still has the magic i love reading about. They show the young characters win magical battles and friendship through intelligence, creativity, and determination, instead of beauty like the original tales, so that was really inspiring for me, and i related really hard to the main characters personality-wise. All three main characters in these books do find relationships or even marry at the end, but it’s because they’ve already been best friends with their love interests for a while. There’s also The Hunger Games, which had fascinating characterization, and unusually subtle morality for a YA series, especially in the last book, and the similarly adventurous Icemark Chronicles series by Stuart Hill, which is historically-based fantasy–think Guy Gavriel Kay for younger readers–with a wonderful main character that i really looked up to. And then there’s The Pushcart War, by Jean Merrill. The Pushcart War is just completely charming. It’s a friendly, quick-read book about a group of pushcart vendors trying to make space for themselves in New York City, opposing the aggressive truckers, and it was just plain fun while also being…actually pretty educational about urban design.

So…i know that’s super long, but y’know, asking me about favorite books is a dangerous thing to do. And i can’t emphasize enough that this is only what i can think of off the top of my head, without my bookshelf in front of me. But thank you so much for the question!

#books #asks #tagging my asks hell yeah

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