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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 years

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reading update

hello lovers, it's once again time to blather at you about my bookish pursuits. last month was a weird and paltry hodgepodge; this month I feel I can safely say I've gotten my proverbial groove back. I suspect next month will be very largely shaped by book recommendations I picked up from various workshops this weekend at a MBLGTACC, but I suppose we'll have to wait until the end of November to see.

in the meantime, what have I been reading?

Belly of the Beast: The Politics of Anti-Fatness as Anti-Blackness (Da'Shaun L. Harrison, 2021) - a small book that hits like lightning. Harrison draws heavily on Sabrina Strings' excellent Fearing the Black Body and expands in even more radical directions, examining the ways in which anti-fatness and anti-Blackness collude to demonize Black masculine folks in particular. the way Harrison talks about the concept of health is particularly shattering, as they underline the ways in which modern American concepts of health have been shaped by ideas that exclude Black bodies inherently. I actually thought of Harrison a lot this weekend while I was listening to Imani Barbarin speaking, because she made a similar point in connection to queerness, talking about how enslaved people running away from plantations was considered a manifestation of mental unwellness in much the same way that queer expressions of gender and sexuality have been. I love digging up these seemingly ubiquitous ideas and finding new angles at which to poke at and complicate them, and Harrison is phenomenal at facilitating that.

Jade War (Fonda Lee, 2019) - and now for something completely different: the second installment of Fonda Lee's door-stopping Green Bone Saga. holy FUCK these books rule; I'm never NOT having a blast reading them. Jade War builds on the conflicts established in Jade City and expand them to a more international level, jetting the surviving members of the Kaul family off to new countries to grapple with the cultural impact of their magical, ability-enhancing jade across the world. there were a couple of moments in this book that had me genuinely gasping out loud, mainly because Lee's ability to balance the tension of day to day politics and business with sudden eruptions of brutality and danger is absolutely unmatched. I'm really excited to see the Kaul family starting to raise the next generation, and I can't wait to see how the family's fate keeps unfolding in Jade Legacy.

One Day We'll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter (Scaachi Koul, 2017) - I've been a fan of Koul's journalism for years - she's mean and she's funny and she's always right - but I have Tajja Isen to thank for getting me to finally read her essay collection. you may recall Isen's own collection, Some of My Best Friends, from last month's roundup; in the chapter critiquing the demands placed on essay writers of color, she highlights Koul as one of the best writers working. and I have to agree; when she gets personal Koul writes with a kind of hysterical melancholy about nearly everything - about her immigrant parents, particularly her prickly father; about her older white boyfriend; about the ways in which her body marked her as different growing up in a white Canadian neighborhood. Koul's chapter reflecting on her cousin's exhausting traditional Indian wedding was painful and sweet and will, I think, do something to anyone who regards their family's traditions with an equal mix of huge love and a deep desire to depart. I hope Koul's got another essay collection in her, because I would love to crawl in her brain and live in her thoughts on the pandemic for a bit.

The Sandman: Dream Country (Neil Gaiman et al, 1991) - okay, so, we've gotten to the bit where (in my extremely humble opinion) the Sandman actually starts getting really good. the stories collected in Dream Country particularly rule because they're not really about Morpheus at all; he (or, sometimes, his sister Death) are just Around, a small part in other people's stories unfolding around them. I often say that I think a lot of the best Batman stories barely have any Batman, and that also applies here; it's an especially pleasant breather before Season of Mists starts really getting the Plot rolling. the Sandman is, of course, a story about stories, capable of holding almost any kind of story you can imagine, so it's fun to watch Gaiman kick back and get weird for a bit.

A Prayer for the Crown-Shy (Becky Chambers, 2022) - having been feeling a bit depressed of late I decided to make a conscious effort to lighten up my reading a bit, and our queer sci-fi solarpunk queen Becky Chambers had my back as always. A Prayer for the Crown-Shy is the second installation in the Monk and Robot series of novellas, and follows our titular monk and robot as they descend from the wilderness where they met and begin introducing the robot, Mosscap, into a human society that has gone generations without seeing any robots. what ensues is a gentle story about travel, belonging, and what it means to be a person who's part of the world, what we contribute and what we owe to one another. I read this book in a day and cradled it like a mug of hot chocolate the whole time, feeling warm and cozy long after the last page.

The Sandman: Season of Mists (Neil Gaiman et al, 1992) - friends, this is one of my favorite plots in the entire series: our boy Morpheus gets clowned into going to Hell to free his ex girlfriend, only to find that Lucifer is calling it a day and shutting Hell down - and leaving Morpheus with the key. what ensues is the world's worst dinner party as figures from all across creation and mythology descend on Morpheus' house to try to threaten or tempt him into giving them the key, all while he's already in the middle of a depressive episode and really doesn't want to be doing any of this. absolutely delicious, 10/10 from me. I'm happy every time Morpheus is having a terrible horrible no good very bad day.

How to Read Now (Elaine Castillo, 2022) - the thing about this book is that it rules and makes me want to read everything Elaine Castillo has ever written, because she's insightful and mean and funny and furiously, deeply principled in how she writes. her book feels like an excellent companion to Some of My Best Friends (I really owe Tajja Isen this month) in how it really probes into the expectations placed on marginalized writers to be Marginalized above all else in their writing, the way publishers and readers alike focus on marginalized writers as tools of education and social betterment rather than just, you know, artists creating art. she has some CHOICE words about the severe limitations of analyzing writing purely through the lens of Good Representation (spoilers: it sucks) that made me cheer out loud. in a very weird and unpleasant cultural moment of anti-intellectualism and a buckwild aversion to literacy you need to read How to Read Now literally right now.

Harley Quinn: The Animated Series: The Eat. Bang! Kill. Tour (Tee Franklin and Max Sarin, 2022) - the thing about this six issue series is that it's, like, impossible to read it without the vile online harassment Tee Franklin faced for writing the series weighing heavily in my mind. she caught the usual bullshit you'd expect from exactly the kind of people you'd expect who were angry that a queer disabled Black woman was writing queer characters with a diverse supporting cast, which is annoying but typical, but then there was the brigade of picrew pride flag icons flinging wild accusations of lesbophobia at Franklin for everything from pointing out that the Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy she's writing aren't lesbians (that's pretty obvious if you've ever even casually watched the show this series spins off from) to making Ivy "emotionally abusive" (see: writing conflict that's more than addressed and resolved by the series' end). that harassment campaign is also, I suspect, strongly motivated by Franklin's status as a disabled queer Black woman, wrapped up in social justice terminology to make it palatable to the picrew icons, and it casts a long shadow across this series. which is like... fine, by the way. it's just fine. it makes some nice callbacks to the show (which I really like, despite my usual no tv policies) without ever quite managing to hit quite the same tone; it's a little too saccharine in ham-fisted in some places for me, and later issues are reliant on thought bubbles in a way that I find grating for no particular reason. but on the flipside it establishes that Harley and Ivy are immediately starting their relationship by fucking on, like, every available surface, which I love for them! I actually think it's great and cool when queer artists get to make stuff that's kind of mid for huge corporations; god knows straight white men have been getting away with it for decades. so what if the plot could have used some tighter editing? that's true of literally every comic series I've ever read. I'll be reading Franklin's Harley Quinn follow-up, Legion of Bats, just as soon as I can get my hands on it, partially out of spite, and I personally hope DC keeps her on the payroll for a million years.

Our Wives Under the Sea (Julia Armfield, 2022) - oh, what a novel! short and sharp and aching, romantic in the most painful way imaginable. alternating chapters are narrated by Miri, whose wife has just returned from a submarine voyage gone wrong acting nothing like herself, and Leah, the aforementioned wife. Miri narrates the present, in which she is exhausted and exasperated by the unknowable woman who's come back seemingly in Leah's place, while Leah's chapters explain what went wrong on the submarine with the chill of steadily increasing dread. it's about love and devotion and also the fucked up things that happen in the darkest part of the ocean; what's not to love?

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