My February in reading

In the dark, chilly days of February, I often like to read science fiction. Looking out my window is like looking out into deep space—especially this year, when I’m still stranded in the little satellite of my apartment, wondering when I can come back to Earth. But sci-fi’s not all I read during my birthday month.

My Favorite Thing is Monsters by Emil Ferris

I signed up to take a horror writing class with Emil Ferris at StoryStudio Chicago, so I decided to read her debut graphic novel first. Monsters tells the tale of 10-year-old Karen Reyes, who encounters more than her fair share of real-life horrors while growing up in 1960s Chicago—including the murder of her upstairs neighbor, Anka. How does she cope with those horrors? By interpreting them through the lens of the monster movies she loves so much. She even sees herself as a werewolf! Despite the horror and the monsters, I’d describe this book as tender more than anything else. Through the vivid drawings in Karen’s notebook, we follow her emotional journey as she encounters things she doesn’t—and maybe shouldn’t have to—understand, and while she confronts truths about herself. I loved it. Can’t wait for volume 2!

Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne

Listened to this one on the Phoebe Reads a Mystery podcast—and boy oh boy did I hate it! I thought this was supposed to be some grand, dangerous adventure under the waves. Instead it’s about this arrogant scientist, Professor Aronnax, who gets trapped on Captain Nemo’s fantastic vessel The Nautilus along with his faithful assistant Conseil and the Canadian harpooner Ned Land. The part where they’re chasing after The Nautilus, thinking it was a giant sea monster, was kind of exciting. As soon as they get in there, it becomes deeply boring. Aronnax, our narrator, is only interested in cataloguing the types of fish he sees and the mechanics of The Nautilus. Though he has been kidnapped by Captain Nemo, he has no interest in escaping—unlike Ned Land, who may be the only character in the novel with any sense. The only mystery keeping the plot going is why Captain Nemo built The Nautilus and fled society—which the novel proceeds to LITERALLY NEVER ANSWER. In fact, Aronnax can’t even tell you how they eventually did escape The Nautilus because he passes out, and for some reason doesn’t think to ask Conseil or Land about it. This book was awful. Skip it. Someone should write Conseil/Ned Land slash fic, though. Also, this is my favorite Jules Verne content on the internet.

O Jerusalem by Laurie R. King

This is the fifth book in the Mary Russell-Sherlock Holmes spinoff series my friends and I have been re-reading. It has its ups and downs. It actually skips back in time, before the events of the second book, and tells the story of Holmes and Russell’s trip to British-occupied Palestine to do some spy work for Holmes’ brother Mycroft, along with long-term British spies Mahmoud and Ali. On the bright side: King decided to bring plot back to the center of this book—though it’s much more of a spy novel than a mystery. The plot clips along and pulls you along with it. On the downside: casual racism! This book was written pre-9/11 and you can tell, because the racism in question is not fear of Muslims, but rather viewing them as a sort of noble savage. It’s gross. What’s more, if this novel is supposed to tell us more about the development of Holmes and Russell’s relationship from teacher-student to lovers-on-equal-footing…it doesn’t. What I’m learning is that I enjoyed this series more when I was younger because I was younger and less discerning. That said, we’re really enjoying our monthly virtual get-togethers to complain about the books, so we’re going to keep reading them.

Disappear Doppelgänger Disappear by Matthew Salesses

This is one of the most challenging books I’ve read in a while—but challenging in a good way, like a tough workout for my brain. I hesitate to use the word zany, since that implies a sort of humor that…well, I guess it does exist in the book, but the plot leans toward the tragic, and the humor within it is bleak. This unusual novel follows Matt Kim, a recently-divorced Korean American man living in a world much like our own, with a racist President on the rise—except that Matt Kim is certain that he is disappearing. Which sounds absurd, until his girlfriend Yumi runs into her doppelgänger, whose ex was Matt’s doppelgänger, until that doppelgänger disappeared. World-and-timeline-switching chaos ensues. (Forgive me—it’s a difficult plot to summarize.) Ultimately, this book is about the harm of Asian American stereotypes and how one constructs an identity, a self, in a world that tells you to be a certain way, or will see you a certain way regardless. It’s a disturbing book, like reading a fever dream. Which is to say, I recommend it.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

This book was tough to read because elements of the plot are just brutal—it’s a slave narrative in outer space, after all. I felt bruised after reading it—but reading it was still an experience I wouldn’t trade. The novel tells the story of Aster Gray, a neuroatypical healer who lives on the lower slave decks of the spaceship Matilda, which is shuttling humankind to “the promised land.” This book encompasses many genres; it’s sci-fi, of course, but it’s also a mystery—can Aster decipher what happened to her mother through what’s left of her mother’s journals? And it’s a horror story, too, where a racist, upper-class elite enslave and regularly attack other humans. BIG content warnings for physical, sexual, and emotional abuse. And yet, love runs through this novel as well—love that’s willing to make terrible sacrifices. This was a beautiful book. I cried. You’ll probably cry, too. I think you should read it, but make sure you’re in a place where you can emotionally handle it.

Sleep Donation by Karen Russell

I’m a big Karen Russell fan, but had I known this novella was about a pandemic, I might not have read it at this exact moment! That said, I still enjoyed it. And by “enjoy” I mean it unnerved me, which is the whole point. In Sleep Donation, the world is experiencing an insomnia pandemic—people are literally dying from lack of sleep—and those not suffering can donate their sleep similarly to how we donate blood. But things start to fall apart for the Slumber Corps—and for their top recruiter Trish Edgewater in particular—when they fail to screen out Donor Y’s contagious nightmare, and it infects the population. If this sounds more like horror than sci-fi, it is. Stephen King even blurbed it. It’s unusual subject matter for Karen Russell, whose stories are sometimes tinged with horror, but rarely dive right in. However, her lush, weird-yet-perfect descriptions remain. Also, this one’s illustrated—I especially enjoyed/was freaked out by the guide to various nightmares at the end of the volume. I would definitely read this again, but not before bed.

100 Chinese Silences by Timothy Yu

Not sure I’ve ever read a book of poetry that could be described as “scathing” before, but this one is definitely scathing. The collection is Yu’s response to the myriad famous white poets—Ezra Pound, Billy Collins, Gary Snyder—who write “Chinese” poetry as if they own it. Yu’s poems are all written “after” these poets; by re-writing their poems and amplifying the Asian stereotypes they lean on, he simply skewers them. And he doesn’t let up. It’s literally 100 poems aiming to do only that. I liked this book, the anger and the confidence in it.

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

I read this novel for Roxane Gay’s new book club, The Audacity. And Detransition, Baby is certainly audacious! Switching back and forth between past and present, Peters’ book tells the story of Reese, a trans woman, who was dating Amy, another trans woman—but then, after a traumatic experience, they break up, and Amy detransitions into Ames. Years later, Ames is dating a cis woman named Katrina (his boss, no less), and she becomes pregnant. Ames doesn’t want to be a father—but he thinks he may be comfortable raising this baby if he does it with Katrina and Reese. Normally domestic dramas aren’t my jam, but this one is obviously not the type of domestic drama we normally encounter. Many people have observed that reading this novel feels like being let in on a secret, and it does—Peters (a trans woman herself) did not write this for a cis audience. But that’s just fine—not everything has to be about cis people, nor should it be. The trans characters get to be messy and fully human in this book, rather than saintly martyrs for their cause, which is wonderful. Peters draws several interesting parallels between trans women and divorced women—both starting their lives anew, traditional nuclear family structures having failed them. I wasn’t wild about the prose style of this book, but the characters made several observations that were surprising and/or eye-opening for me. It’s definitely worth a read.

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Do you like goth lesbian necromancers solving locked-room murder mysteries in space? Great! Gideon the Ninth is the book for you. Gideon Nav is an orphan in the death-worshipping Ninth House, and her nemesis is the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House, the skilled necromancer Harrowhark Nonagesimus. But when the Emperor issues an invitation for the heirs of all the houses to come prove their worth and become Lyctors of the realm, Gideon—one of the few young and strong people left in the Ninth House—ends up having to serve as Harrow’s cavalier. This book has the trappings of a fantasy novel, but it’s also really funny and crass. And then, just when you think you’re in for a rollicking good time, it punches you in the stomach with sorrow. I adored it. Already put the second book in the trilogy on hold at the library.