My July in reading

I’ve been traveling for about a month now—had to attend all those postponed weddings from 2020. As such, my reading has been a bit thinner lately. Plenty of good ones, though.

The Sandman Vol. 5: A Game of You by Neil Gaiman

In this Sandman saga, we follow Barbie into a fairytale land complete with talking animals—as well as the humans (and witches!) who attempt to rescue her. It’s Morpheus who saves them at the end—but there’s a price, of course. I enjoyed re-reading this volume because it has a very compact, plot-driven story. Maybe not the best writing of a trans character I’ve ever seen, but decent considering it was the early 90s. I realized I could do a great Thessaly cosplay.

Danzirly by Gloria Muñoz

I’m somewhat biased here, because Gloria and I attended the Tin House YA Fiction Workshop together. But even if I didn’t know her, I’d be dazzled by this bilingual poetry collection. I especially loved the images in her poems. They’re vivid, bursting like fireworks. On a personal note, I’m slowly (and badly) learning Spanish, so I loved reading the Spanish versions of the poems aloud to practice my accent, and then trying to guess what various words meant before flipping to the English translation. Stunning and educational!

Outlawed by Anna North

One of my favorite reads of the year so far! Set in a version of 19th century America where the country has suffered through some sort of vast illness (ugh), Ada, a midwife’s daughter, learns that she is unable to become pregnant—rumors begin to swirl that she’s a witch. After a brief stint in a convent, she sets out to join the Hole in the Wall Gang, led by The Kid, a charismatic, nonbinary preacher. The Kid has big plans—they believe their little gang of outlaws can create a safe place in society for people like them. I loved everything about this book—the characters, the setting, the length. Also, I would 100% read a prequel about The Kid. If you were raised on Westerns like me—or even if you weren’t—you should pick this one up.

The Incredible Shrinking Woman by Athena Dixon

In this collection of essays, Dixon delves into her Midwestern Blackness, and how it’s different from other kinds of Blackness; her search for love and love’s disappointments; her mental health and more. This collection is certainly vulnerable, and I appreciate how it doesn’t necessarily feel resolved. No one can solve the problem of their own depression in a single essay collection; Dixon knows that, and she’s at peace with it. She is remarkably kind to herself—that’s not something I always notice in other personal essays. Aside from our Midwestern roots, we don’t have similar backgrounds—yet I found myself relating to much of what she described. I really liked this collection; it proves that you don’t have to be brutal to be honest.

The Nothing That Is by Kyle Winkler

It may simply be the circles I run in, but people were talking about this 80s cosmic horror novella nonstop on Twitter; I finally had to grab a copy for myself. And I downed it all in one big gulp! It tells the story of Cade McCall, a beleaguered assistant manager for a catering company, worn down by his terrible boss. When he receives a call asking him to privately cater an “extreme” food event in an abandoned mansion for someone named Mr. Dinosaur—who’s willing to pay an obscene amount of money—he accepts. As you might imagine, he gets more than he bargained for. Did I mention that the local cemetery exploded that morning? This book was fun and weird and eerie in a…screechy way? It’s like tinnitus for your eyes? Or brain? Unsettling is perhaps the word I’m looking for. Parts of it don’t make much sense, but it would be less compelling if they did make sense. My only complaint is that Tina, Cade’s on-again-off-again fling, is pretty much only there to be a love interest. But other than that, Winkler does a great job.

Where the Wild Ladies Are by Aoko Matsuda

My friend Maureen was kind enough to send me a copy of this short story collection. Translated by Polly Barton, the stories are all inspired by Japanese folktales, usually involving ghosts. But Matsuda’s writing is more funny than it is scary; how could a factory that produces incense to raise the ghosts of your loved ones not be a little bit funny? Or a visit from a ghost aunt demanding that you lay off the hair removal already? The imagery is often bizarre, but delightfully so. If you’re searching for something playful and weird, this is the collection for you.