My spring(?) in reading (continued)

May and June moved so quickly that they arguably only count as one month. And most of June is technically still spring. Anyway, here’s what I read.

The Best of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, edited by Kelly Link and Gavin J. Grant

I’ve been a fan of Kelly Link’s for years, and I appreciate how she applies her own weird aesthetic to the pieces she chooses for her zine, Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, gathered here into an anthology. There are some real gems in this collection, which consists of fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, lists, and more. My favorite was possibly Jan Lars Jensen’s story “Happier Days,” which is about a Happy Days-themed high school reunion gone horribly wrong—or horribly right, depending on whether you think it would be fun to live your life as Mr. Cunningham. Deborah Roggie’s story “The Mushroom Duchess” was also great—think The Favorite meets Phantom Thread? If you enjoy surreal stuff, I’d recommend this collection.

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

This was another one I listened to on the Phoebe Reads a Mystery podcast. I’d actually read it before, years ago, in a college Victorian lit class. It’s one of the earliest English detective novels, and as with virtually all fiction from Victorian England, it is, uh, racist—especially since the moonstone is a “mysterious Indian gem,” etc. I will say that Collins was great at creating narrative voices; each section of the book is narrated by someone different—bumbling servant Gabriel Betteredge, pious and meddling spinster Drusilla Clack, and more. If you’re interested in the evolution of detective novels, it’s a good read, but I can think of far more interesting mysteries.

Excellent Evidence of Human Activity by Sara Ryan

I work with Sara at Split Lip Magazine, and I picked up her chapbook at the AWP Conference in San Antonio earlier this year. These small essays? poems? both? are about nature—from bees to bison—in all its visceral, gristly glory, as well as where humans fit into this scheme, how we live and die, especially die, and kill, within its various ecosystems. It was a pleasure to read.

Lakewood by Megan Giddings

I’ve been looking forward to this book since its announcement—Megan Giddings is so talented, and the book sounded creepy as hell. And it was! After Lena Johnson’s grandmother dies, she accepts an offer to participate in some government(?) experiments in rural Lakewood, Michigan, in order to better support her ill mother. A modern gothic meditation on race and medical experimentation, the novel is often a surprising satire of modern offices as well, as the participants in the study are forced to pretend that they work at a shipping company to keep the experiments under wraps. Can’t recommend this one enough.

The Story of Jane: The Legendary Underground Feminist Abortion Service by Laura Kaplan

I borrowed this from a friend ages ago, and WOW I’m glad I finally read it. It’s exactly what the title says: Laura Kaplan herself was a member of Jane, the underground feminist abortion network that developed in Chicago in the late 60s and early 70s, until the passage of Roe v. Wade. Since Jane was illegal, the group didn’t really keep records, so Kaplan reconstructs the story through interviews with various members. These women not only risked going to jail to help other women get abortions; they also worked to make the abortions safe and affordable, even learning how to perform the procedures themselves eventually. The book doesn’t shy away from the details of abortion procedures, which I appreciate—I think it’s something everyone with a uterus should learn. It’s also a fascinating portrait of activism at that time and the dynamics within the group. Required reading, in my opinion.

Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce

When I was a pre-teen this was one of my favorite book series, so I decided to grab them from the library recently and re-read them. Pleased to report that they hold up! Admittedly, the story of a young girl going undercover as a boy to become a knight is a little dated at this point, but it wasn’t for me at the time. I enjoyed revisiting the characters, even though they all seem so much more childish to me now—which makes sense, as most of them are children. I am amazed at how Pierce moves through time in her books. You’ll read a scene and then she’ll just say, “Three months passed.” Three months! Just like that! It’s enlightening. Also, I’m still in love with George Cooper, King of Thieves, as it turns out.

The World Doesn’t Require You by Rion Amilcar Scott

I’ve been mostly stuck inside for months now, and after reading this collection I finally felt like I’d traveled somewhere. Scott’s stories all take place in the fictional towns of Cross River and nearby Port Yooga, where his characters confront/live out/upend/are trapped by America’s racist history in often surreal ways. Many of his stories deal with music, beating with a sound specific to Cross River. Many of his stories deal with robots. My favorite was the novella at the end, “Special Topics in Loneliness Studies,” but I think that’s because I’m a sucker for campus stories. I’d recommend this to anyone, but especially to writers looking to read something from a craft perspective. The way Scott writes sentences is revelatory.

In The Hand of the Goddess by Tamora Pierce

And then I re-read the second book in the Alanna series! (A digital copy of the third is waiting for me right now.) Had a lot of fun reading this one too, where Alanna comes into her own and gains her knighthood. By now many of her friends know her secret. Also: it’s kind of amazing to me that people complain about sex in YA books now—I was reading this stuff when I was twelve, and it was totally fine. Alanna has sex, and she learns about her body, and it’s great. It’s by no means graphic, but it is straightforward. As someone raised in Catholic schools, I had to learn everything about sex from somewhere else, so I appreciated books like Pierce’s.

Normal People by Sally Rooney

I did it! I read the book of 2019! And it was…fine? There were things I enjoyed about it—if you’re a millennial like me, it really will resonate. And I’d like to seek out some craft essays about Rooney’s writing, because she breaks lots of “rules”—showing not telling, etc. Her characters feel everything—traditionally you’re supposed to demonstrate how characters feel through their bodies, or through dialogue, rather than stating that they feel a certain way. So that aspect was interesting. But I didn’t really feel (ha) the chemistry that supposedly exists between Connell and Marianne—maybe it’s more apparent in the TV show. There were also lots of references to their interest in politics that never went anywhere, and maybe that’s the point. It had its moments. The scene where Connell went to a therapist was especially strong. I’m glad I read it, but I probably wouldn’t read it again.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power

Young women trapped in a girls’ school on a rural island off the coast of Maine! A mysterious disease that disfigures its victims but often strengthens those who survive it! Government experimentation! Female friendship! Queer love! What more could you want? As long as you’re okay reading stories about a pandemic during a pandemic, this one is great—in an unnerving way, of course. I was surprised by the ending, in that I didn’t expect it to end where it did. Wonder if there’s a series in the works…

Mostly Dead Things by Kristen Arnett

Bought this one as a birthday gift for my sister last year—on the condition that I could read it after her, of course. I was a bit concerned about reading this novel in the immediate aftermath of my mother’s death, as its protagonist is also coping with the death of a parent. However, it ended up being the best possible thing I could have read. Somehow this story of a young lesbian taxidermist taking over the family business in the wake of her father’s suicide, her mother who grieves by making graphic sexual art out of the animals, and her emotionally-open but often impractical brother who married the woman she loved and then proceeded to lose her for the both of them, was exactly what I needed.