My June and July in reading

After 3.5 years, I finally caught COVID-19. My fever broke, but I’m still in the quarantine period—so this is probably a good time to tell you what I read in June and July, right?

I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself by Marisa Crane

Crane’s novel takes place in a not-too-distant hypothetical future in which criminals are given extra shadows, a visible punishment that makes it easy to discriminate against them. Kris’ daughter is born with a shadow for the “crime” of killing her mother in childbirth—and Kris has her own shadow for other reasons. With the help of her formerly estranged father, her mother-in-law, and other friends living at the margins of society, Kris finds a way to raise her daughter through grief and danger. Also, this book is really funny. I mean, yes, it’s as sad as it sounds. But funny, too. I thought it was remarkable.

Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree

The tagline of this book is “a novel of high fantasy and low stakes,” which hits the nail on the head exactly, and whatever marketing person came up with it deserves a raise. I saw it sitting on my friend Leta’s shelf while I was visiting them in Denver, so I grabbed it and casually breezed through it while they were getting other work done. The charming story of Viv the orc and her unlikely coffee shop will make you smile and give you some fun ideas for your next D&D campaign.

From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death by Caitlin Doughty

I’ve been familiar with the death positive movement for quite some time, but my interest deepened after experiencing both my parents’ deaths. I was happy to finally read From Here to Eternity, in which Caitlin Doughty—mortician and founder of The Order of the Good Death—travels around the world to learn about global death practices. I ended up crying on an airplane imagining unearthing and caring for my mother’s corpse the way the Torajan people do in Indonesia, which I couldn’t do even if it were legal in the U.S. because she was cremated—but I think a solid cry is a sign of a good book.

The Third Rainbow Girl: The Long Life of a Double Murder in Appalachia by Emma Copley Eisenberg (narrated by the author)

In The Third Rainbow Girl, Eisenberg combines reporting on an unsolved 1980 double murder in West Virginia with memoir about her own experiences living and working in that same area years later as a queer woman. True crime media so often becomes exploitative, but not in this case. Eisenberg is empathetic and has an actual understanding of Appalachian history and social dynamics—and more importantly, she acknowledges herself as part of the story rather than pretending she’s an unbiased journalist. I really liked this one.

You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi

This is easily the sexiest book about grief I’ve ever read. Five years after her husband’s death, artist Feyi Adekola begins opening herself to new possibilities. Miraculously, she meets a great guy who’s understanding and patient—and he wants to fly her to an island where her work will be featured in an art show? It sounds too good to be true—and it is, because once she gets to the island she meets her boyfriend’s incredibly attractive celebrity chef father. Oops. I adored this romance novel—the sexy parts were very sexy, but the grief didn’t pull any punches, either. To be honest, I’d been afraid to read another book by Emezi after Pet emotionally devastated me, but I’m so glad I did.

Hackers by Aase Berg (translated by Johannes Göransson)

I’d been slowly reading this book of poetry ever since I went to Sweden back in February, but for various reasons—including leaving it in another state—it took me a while to finish it. Berg’s mostly short poems appear in Swedish on one side of the page and in English on the other, so I used the opportunity to teach myself vocabulary and practice pronunciation (poorly, I’m sure). I suppose most Swedish language beginners don’t use ferocious feminist poetry as a textbook, but I’m not most Swedish language beginners. Overall I liked it, even if I didn’t fully understand it.

Sea Change by Gina Chung

In this novel, our protagonist Ro is just as stuck as Dolores—the giant Pacific octopus living in a tank at the failing aquarium where Ro still works in her 30s, mostly because it’s her only remaining connection to her marine biologist father, who disappeared years ago. When the aquarium decides to sell Dolores to a private investor, Ro is forced to confront change on all fronts—with family and friends, and her own future. At first I thought this was going to turn into some wacky octopus heist novel, but it was much more tender than that. It’s a belated coming-of-age story for a generation that can never seem to meet the social milestones expected of us.

Griefstrike! The Ultimate Guide to Mourning by Jason Roeder

I use gallows humor to cope with my grief, and so does Jason Roeder, who compiled this satirical self-help book for those facing a recent loss. After all the dreary sympathy cards and well-meant casseroles, it’s nice to laugh, and Roeder provides laughs in spades. I especially enjoyed the deranged journal prompts.

Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? by Caitlin Doughty (narrated by the author)

I wasn’t going to read another Caitlin Doughty book so soon, but this audiobook was the perfect length for my drive up to Wisconsin. In it she answers various questions about death posed by children—and I learned so much! Viking funerals are totally fake. It’s not uncommon for morticians to plastic wrap corpses. And much to my dismay, it is illegal to will my bones to my friends and loved ones for display in the United States. This is a fun read if you’re looking to sharpen your morbid trivia.

Extended Stay by Juan Martinez

Juan Martinez is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met—and Extended Stay is one of the most horrifying novels I’ve read this year, or possibly ever. After a wildly traumatic incident in Colombia that kills most of his family, Alvaro and his younger sister Carmen are forced to flee to Las Vegas, where Alvaro finds work in the kitchens at the Alicia hotel and casino. Something is very, very wrong with the Alicia. This starts as a gothic novel and worms its way into cosmic horror by the end. I really liked it, but heads up—it’s a violence and gore bonanza. Plus cockroaches. If that’s your thing, I suspect you’ll like it, too.

Another Appalachia: Coming Up Queer and Indian in a Mountain Place by Neema Avashia (narrated by Jeed Saddy)

In this book of essays, Avashia recounts her upbringing in one of the few Indian families in West Virginia. Her father was a doctor for a chemical manufacturer, and though she largely felt loved and accepted in her community, she couldn’t completely escape reminders of her race. And the Appalachian culture that raised her continues to impact her life as a queer educator in a major city. Avashia’s book is a great reminder of the inadequacy of stereotypes.