TO SEE NEW WORK, VISIT:
https://sites.google.com/jtowndrakes.org/litmag/blogs/lulus-library
WE HAVE A NEW WEBSITE!
TO SEE NEW WORK, VISIT: https://sites.google.com/jtowndrakes.org/litmag/blogs/lulus-library
0 Comments
despite it being one of my favorite holidays, i'm still stuck in summer with this awful read10/31/2022 Back in May, the Amazon Prime teen romance The Summer I Turned Pretty caught my attention when it used "This Love (Taylor's Version)" in a teaser, complete with a written endorsement from Taylor Swift herself. The Summer I Turned Pretty had already been on the edge of my radar since it was Jenny Han's claim-to-fame pre-To All the Boys I've Loved Before, but I didn't pay much attention to the trilogy until the literal music industry said it was good.
Barnes & Noble carried a box set with new covers, so I ordered all three books at once, and, wow, was that a naive decision. About a week later, I read the entire first book in one afternoon, but not in a "this book is so great, I can't put it down" kind of way. No, in an "I need to finish this so I can laugh at its entirety with everyone I know" kind of way; in a "tired plot + shockingly thin characters + awful romance = train wreck" kind of way. I didn't want to hate The Summer I Turned Pretty. I'm a huge fan of Jenny Han's other work, and the Taylor Swift- and Olivia Rodrigo-filled TV show soundtrack looked like I could gear up for a new hyper-fixation. I'm not high-and-mighty about romance as a genre, either; people being snotty like that is one of my biggest pet peeves. Surprisingly, one of the book's biggest downfalls was how excited I was: I saw the redesigned covers and expected a more modern book when I'd actually ordered something from nearly fifteen years ago when YA romance as a whole struggled with toxic archetypes. Had I been holding a book with dated cover trends and less of a quality design, I might have been more inclined to give TSITP leeway, but with a fresh, new look, I subconsciously set the bar high. That high bar made the basic plot even more of a disappointment. Not only was it predictable and overused, but it was also shockingly sparse and bland. I couldn't tell you what filled up those 300-some pages—it constantly flip-flopped between filler scenes and fever dreams. The core concept makes me uncomfortable, too: a girl "transformed" over the school year and became every guy's dream. I don't know how to articulate why it felt wrong to me; something about it pulled me back into my middle school days far too intensely for me to like. It was almost like Han crafted the idea, consciously or not, to be a sort of fantasy life for young girls, not unlike Stephenie Meyer's Twilight. Belly is the spunky, not-like-other-girls blank slate that's perfect for readers to project themselves onto, and you can say what you want about reasons to read, but after experiencing books like that myself, I will always firmly believe that those types of characters are never healthy for young readers, especially since it's nearly impossible to notice when you're in it. I would much rather have YA books with a diverse range of strongly characterized protagonists for readers to see themselves in without putting themselves onto the character. Belly wasn't the only weak character; all of them were personality-less. Her brother Steven's only trait was being a terrible person, but it's okay because they're siblings? I hate when people push that rhetoric; unhealthy relationships don't get a pass just because they're familial. And the romantic relationships were no better: everyone kept saying how Jeremiah was some kind of comedy god, and then he didn't tell a single joke—if he was even there. Jeremiah was supposed to be the other love interest, but he had maybe three scenes. He became my favorite character simply because he didn't have enough time to do something mean. The other other love interest, Cameron, also lacked substance. I swear to god, I could not tell you a single personality trait for this man. I think he was supposed to be edgy and "not like other guys" (weren't they all?), but he mostly ended up being bland and uninteresting. The worst of the characters, however, was Conrad, Love Interest #1. He was the essence of toxic dream guys in 2000s teen romances: distant, brooding, "damaged." Poor communication skills and unstable emotions are attractive in this book, because the year is 2009, and who doesn't love a manipulative man? (To be fair, the year was quite literally 2009 upon the book's release.) My problem with Conrad goes deeper than the surface-level "this romance is unappealing and uninteresting"; romances like his and Belly's wreak real damage on impressionable readers, especially young girls. 12- and 13-year-old girls read books like TSITP and slowly believe that a guy like Conrad—fickle, overprotective—is the ideal guy. Then, they end up in unhealthy, even dangerous relationships because of that education instilled into them. Books aren't the only source of that belief, but they're enough of a source to be harmful. And I know that this book is old enough for all of my grievances to have been normal, but why do Belly and her toxic romances have to be dragged to light in 2022, when authors like Casey McQuiston and Sandhya Menon are now in the YA rom-com game? No one would have minded if TSITP had quietly died and newer romantic comedies got attention from streaming services. Who cares if it has the Jenny Han and To All the Boys names attached to it? One single famous actor in the cast would have garnered the same amount of publicity. Even with the updates added to the show, like Jeremiah being bi and the general cast of characters having more personality, I still didn't think it was good enough for a brand-new series. The entire romance with Conrad is built on ickiness, and although bisexuality fits Jeremiah's character well enough, it came off as tokenized to me—maybe because I already had a general dislike, but maybe because they wanted inclusivity points and didn't try all that hard for thoughtful representation. I hate writing negative reviews for romantic comedies; the whole genre is belittled and not given the respect it deserves for its ability to captivate readers of all kinds, but I couldn't lie about The Summer I Turned Pretty. It was a product of its time, and I kind of hate it for that. This isn't exactly an October-oriented review, mais c'est la vie. This is what I prepared. Happy Halloween, by the way! Next month, I'll try to get a review out a bit earlier than the last day, but we'll see how it goes. Until next time, keep reading, readers. Hello, readers! I hope you all had fantastic summers and are excited to jump back into school! First, however, I have some bittersweet news: I'm officially a senior. Being a senior comes with a lot of good things (finally! graduating!) but also a lot of bad—like the final return to my blog. I don't want to go too far into all the sappy stuff (don't worry, it'll come in June), so just know that the idea of never writing a "welcome back" title again is very weird to me.
For this month's post, I have a review/analysis of Dead Wake I wrote for AP Lang a couple weeks ago, so grab your best dress because today we're going formal! The rest of the year, I'll have my usual rants and raves, but I want to give myself a little time to adjust to my schedule before starting any posts. Without further ado, Dead Wake... Erik Larson has become the nonfiction writer for fiction readers. His detailed deep-dives into historical events like murder at the Chicago World's Fair (The Devil in the White City), Winston Churchill during the blitz of London (The Splendid and the Vile), and the 1933 German-American embassy (In the Garden of Beasts) capture everyday readers in ways few nonfiction historical books can. His 2013 novel Dead Wake, an in-depth analysis of every letter, every order, and every moment that lead to the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915, enthralls readers all the same. Surprisingly, unlike many exciting historical studies, Larson doesn't often present an angle or argument to convince the reader of good guys and bad guys (although it pushes its way in at times); instead, he spends the 300-plus pages exploring every side of the situation, from the U-boat logs documenting the sinking to the individual lives of Lusitania passengers. Dead Wake follows a few different storylines. Primarily, Larson talks about what happens on the ship itself. The book discusses the lives of passengers (some of whom had nearly sailed on the Titanic, including Alfred Vanderbilt); the captain, Turner, one of the most accomplished captains in all of Cunard; and any slow-downs, including last-minute additions from another ship, the Cameronia, and a tour for Turner's niece. The Lusitania could speed across the Atlantic faster than any other ship at the time, with an average of a whopping 26 knots, but during its final crossing, Cunard secretly ordered Captain Turner to use only three of the ship's four engines, adding an entire day onto the voyage. Dead Wake also travels with the German U-boat that eventually sank the Lusitania, documenting its logs and the requirements for German captains, who were ranked based on tonnage sunk (making the Lusitania an ideal target). Great Britain's top-secret codebreakers, Room 40, make appearances as they track German ships and decide whether or not to act on classified knowledge regarding the Lusitania—as time runs out, the lives of nearly 2,000 people rest in their hands. The final plotline follows President Woodrow Wilson, who faces several battles: politically, the country is tearing itself apart over how America should act in regards to the war, and personally, he has fallen in love again after the death of his wife Ellen. The real purpose behind the creation of Dead Wake was the desire for modern-day Americans to understand just how huge of an impact this tragedy had, not only on international relations but also on real, ordinary people. The book uses dialogue and everyday moments on board to ground the massive amount of death in reality. For example, on page 194, Larson describes an instance where two little girls try to help a worker paint a lifeboat. "[The painter, Morton,] was hard at work when he heard the sound of small shoes charging toward him, and looked out… to see two girls intently watching… 'I could not help thinking what lovely children they were and how beautifully dressed,' Morton wrote" (193-194). Later, Larson gives the exact body count when the two little girls' corpses were recovered. First, he humanized the children and created a connection between them and the reader, and only then does he reveal their deaths, increasing the emotional impact. Larson uses minute details to turn statistics into real drownings of children, family, and friends, writing, "The worst were those situations where a passenger was expected to be on a different ship but… had ended up on the Lusitania, as was the case with the passengers of the Cameronia… includ[ing] Margaret and James Shineman, newlyweds from Oil City, Wyoming, who suddenly found themselves aboard the fastest, most luxurious ship in service, for their journey to Scotland to visit Margaret's family. The visit was to be a surprise. Both were killed" (300). Larson first introduces the Shinemans' names, lives, and early joy before switching to the short, hard sentence "both were killed" to emphasize how very human all of the losses were. Erik Larson also challenges the reader to consider alternative aspects of the sinking by giving the German U-boat's perspective. Dead Wake regularly switches to U-20 (the German U-boat) and its captain, Schwieger. It doesn't use hard, biased language to turn the reader against Schwieger like other American studies of the Lusitania might; instead, it presents the facts and the people behind them like it does for every other location in the book. It quotes many of Schwieger's captain logs, as well as journal entries and letters from his crew. Their bravery, despite being against America during World War I, is recognized. U-boats were notoriously dangerous and hard to manage, spread by stories of U-boats striking mines and later being discovered with "vivid evidence of the kind of death submariners most feared… The scratches on the steel walls, the corpses' torn finger-nails, the blood-stains on their clothes and on the wall, bore all too dreadful witness" (123). That sort of brutal death was always possible on U-boats, and after two days of sailing, Schwieger was "no longer able to communicate with his superiors… wholly on his own" (124). In Larson's painting of the Lusitania's tragedy, it would be easy to make Schwieger nothing more than a villain, but he instead opts for a fuller version of the truth. Sometimes, however, Larson can be too rosy in his attempts to show every side of the story, especially with President Woodrow Wilson. In Larson's book, Wilson is "a great man" (23) with a good heart. He's introduced with the deep grief of the death of his wife, slanting him in a sympathetic light. As the country's and the world's problems are slowly introduced, there is an underlying idea that all of it is out of his control. No responsibility, it can feel, ever lies on Wilson, despite him having more responsibility than anyone in the entire country. His wife is dead, and he is "a heartbreaking scene" (23), so how could he deal with politics? Dead Wake never so much as mentions Wilson reintroducing racial segregation in the capital or his choice to actively ignore women's protests for the right to vote, even though those issues dominated America at the time. By many modern standards of acceptance and equality, Wilson was not "a great man" (23), but nowhere is that idea considered. It's even avoided when discussing his infatuation with a close friend, Edith Galt. Larson writes their friendship-to-marriage to be nothing less than a joyful romantic comedy. They take drives around DC and share books with secret notes; she is described as "a heaven—haven—sanctuary… her presence helped him clarify his thoughts about the nation's trials" (109). Suddenly, with that final addition, she shares his presidential responsibilities, despite having only the connection of a close friend—a personal friend, not a professional one, who, at the end of the day, should not be roped into his job. On its own, that connection might not be such a problem, but when Larson pairs it with the language surrounding Wilson's proposal later in the book, it feels wrong. When he proposes, she rejects him, which "casts him into a state akin to grief" (210-211). He handles it by writing her extensive, creepy letters sharing his belief "that she would come to love him" (211). These letters aren't in any way depicted as terrifying or disrespectful; no, they are "impassioned postscripts" (211). When Edith's so-called friend shames and guilts her for not wanting a life married to the President of the United States, she isn't manipulating Edith—she's only worried because "some happiness was coming into his life… and now [Edith is] breaking his heart" (177). Her sexism was showing, but Larson allows it to control the narrative with calmness, never once pointing it out. In fact, he frames their eventual marriage in a positive light by focusing on Wilson's perspective, writing, "Wilson had cause for cheer… [when] Edith at last agreed to marry him" (332). "At last," in this context, holds a positive connotation, like this was the summation of some great and beautiful love story when, according to the facts presented by Dead Wake itself, the marriage was really the effect of a woman pressured into a life she didn't want in order to keep a man comfortable. Overall, Dead Wake is an unusual nonfiction book, so close to fiction in its suspense and details that a reader could accidentally call it a novel. Larson does his best to show every side of the story, although personal bias inevitably leaks in. Still, it is well-written and entertaining, perfect for a reader intimidated by the nonfiction shelves in the library. Until next time, keep reading, readers. In eighth grade, I read Jane Eyre, and at the time, it was the best novel I'd ever read. There's a review a few pages back where I'm absolutely raving about the romance and the climax and the characters, but a few weeks ago, I reread the bestselling Bronte book, and while I still thought it was beyond amazing, my god are my opinions different.
I still worship at the feet of this masterpiece: there's a beautiful relationship (albeit it's not the one I loved before), the social commentary is way ahead of its time, and the plot is enticing. But unlike before, I see cracks in the glass. There are huge problems with Mr. Rochester that the reader is supposed to ignore, and some of the messages can be damaging to young and impressionable women. The first time I read Jane Eyre, I saw a passionate and exciting relationship unveil itself between Rochester and Jane. The second time, I found a peaceful love somewhere else: between Jane Eyre and Helen Burns. I could go on and on defending and dissecting Jane-and-Helen scenes, from the casual hand holdings to the endearing "darlings." I could build an argument based on Bronte's open-minded nature and queer sister to show that it was on purpose—but, to be honest, I don't think it was. I don't think Bronte was so ahead of her time that she included a WLW relationship. I also don't think it matters. Yes, literature is partly about what it meant in its own time period and how the author intended it, but, especially in a queer context, literature is also about how it speaks to people today. Like many marginalized groups, the LGBTQ+ Community doesn't have the luxury of centuries of mainstream stories. There are so few queer moments in classic literature, especially classic lit that has actually survived, so if a queer person says they see themselves in the love Jane feels for Helen, that's it. You accept it as a possible interpretation. In my experience, dismissing that feels like dismissing my queerness. You don't have to say that you see it or that it was intended, but you do have to accept it as a viable takeaway, especially when, to modern ears, everything Jane and Helen say to each other is romantic. It's not coming out of left field when Helen is the only person who can make Jane feel like she's worthy of love and when Jane literally says that Helen is her favorite person and when they curl up together during Helen's final breaths. It just doesn't make sense to count that out as a reasonable modern reading. And the book is far more interesting when you have this relationship to compare to that of Jane and Rochester. The novel frames the stoic and oppressive relationship between St. John and Jane as a counter to the passionate and intense relationship between Rochester and Jane, but they're not really opposites, since, in both cases, the man has the upper hand. There is no equality in either relationship, shown by the countless examples of manipulation from either man. But look at the relationship between Helen and Jane: calm, peaceful, equal. There is balance: Jane is independent and unforgiving, while Helen is caring and loving. They teach each other about equally important viewpoints, and it's not in the cold and mean way that St. John and Rochester both teach Jane. Jane and Helen's relationship does more than open the book to queer voices; it give the novel more depth and a new angle. But a little extra gay isn't the only thing I found in Jane Eyre the second time around. In general, its feminist social commentary is unlike anything anyone had ever seen during the Victorian Era. Sexist, classist religious institutions are insulted, and overall, what matters most in Jane's life is Jane's opinion—not any of the many men who continually tried to shape her. The most shocking part of Jane Eyre's feminism is its willingness to call out how easily the Catholic Church's rules can be manipulated to trap women, most prominently shown by St. John's characterization. St. John is always, always, always portrayed as a "man of the church." His life revolves around religion, his supposed "calling." In any other Victorian Era novel, a man like that would be written so the audience could love him without objection, despite many people in the same position as him (some kind of priest, I think? Church rules confuse me, but he's a Church leader) wielding their power for the worse in real life. In Jane Eyre, however, Bronte refuses to shy away from that truth. St. John is as manipulative as the Victorian Era church itself, sapping all of Jane's joy out of her and pressuring her into marrying him. He essentially thinks of marriage as an unbreakable bond of one-way servitude where the wife always draws the short straw. These ideas—joyless devotion, manipulation, confining marriage—were prominent in the Victorian Era church. Bronte points out this flaw in the system, and she does so without ever blaming religion itself. If one thing is made clear about St. John's position, it is that he is the evil, not the God he uses against everyone. But to be a feminist text, a writing piece must in some way show that a woman's own opinion is what should always matter the most in her life, regardless of if it actually does, whether that be by having controlling men ruin her life (à la "The Yellow Wallpaper") or having her learn to trust herself, as is the case in Jane Eyre. At the end of the novel, although Jane still greatly cares for and values Rochester, her personal beliefs are what guide her the most. Throughout her entire life, Jane is strong-willed enough to challenge the orders of the men around her, starting with Mr. Brocklehurst, who did everything in his power to to mold her into the sad, dull orphan he wanted, all the way until Rochester and St. John, who both try to force her into a marriage for one reason or another. Although Jane learns to find forgiveness for those who have hurt her, she never gives in. The reader gets the sense that the forgiveness she offers is more for her own peace than the peace of her abusers. On top of all of that forward-thinking feminism, Jane Eyre has an interesting plot, pure and simple. It starts Harry Potter-ish, with evil cousins and a boarding school, except Jane Eyre's Hogwarts is hell, and the protagonist ends up in a mysterious mansion full of mindgames. How could that not be fun? But Jane Eyre isn't as flawless as I used to think it was. Mr. Rochester is, quite frankly, a terrible person. He lies to, manipulates, and even threatens Jane, all in the name of love. The reader is supposed to adore him, forgive him instantly like Jane does, but it's hard when everything he says is either about depending on Jane to live, locking up his wife, or, occasionally, hating his ward Adele. What is the reader supposed to like about him? It's especially challenging to approve of his relationship with Jane when he's constantly bringing up the age gap. I felt like I was watching Casablanca again, but instead of Rick calling Ilsa "kid" over and over again, Rochester was talking about Jane's innocence and youth. I know that age gaps were more common in previous centuries, but it's harder to get past when it isn't brushed under the rug like it is in other novels, like Pride and Prejudice. I also didn't always agree with the messages for young women in Jane Eyre, despite being a primarily feminist text. After St. John makes Jane perpetually unhappy and treats her inhumanely, she forgives him enough to put in the effort to keep contact with him. He starts to drift away, but she purposefully holds on. Why? There are even undertones that the reason Jane tries so hard with him is, on some level, because he's a man. His treatment of Jane is pretty much as terrible as Blanche Ingram's, maybe even a little worse, but you don't see Jane running to hell and back to be friends with Blanche. She accepts that there isn't a place for Blanche in her life and happily moves on. Why couldn't she have done that with St. John? It feels really unhealthy for young women to get the underlying message that they should go to great lengths to find forgiveness for men, even if they never apologize or own up to their mistakes. The sexist undertones aren't a huge part of the book, but they're there, and until my second, more enlightened reading, I didn't notice them. I'm not usually one for rereading books, unless they're a comfort book (The Folk of the Air, Carry On, the Six of Crows Duology, Ella Enchanted, Heartstopper), but this was an illuminating experience for me, and I'm glad I did it. With every read, no matter the book, you get something new out of a text, and your opinion on it solidifies. I can now wholeheartedly recommend Jane Eyre without the fear that there's something I missed or forget that actually makes it a terrible book for the recommendee. This may or may not be my last post until the fall. The final weeks of school are busy for me, and it's hard to find the focus or motivation to post during the summer, especially since that's the easiest time for me to work on longer projects, like novels and screenplays. So until next time, whenever that may be, keep reading, readers. Boy meets boy. Boys become friends. Boys fall in love. That is, I kid you not, the entire blurb on the back of Alice Oseman's internationally-beloved graphic novel Heartstopper, and, wow, did I buy it fast - the whole series, in fact. How could I resist? It's friends-to-lovers but make it gay. It's rom com tropes without its straighter-than-2010-Disney-Channel culture. Once I finished it, I knew that its review would be nothing but praise; how could it not be, when the story presents one of the most diverse casts I've ever seen and is rooted in queer joy while still being grounded in the realities of LGBTQ+ young people. Its recent Netflix adaptation gives me hope for the future of queer TV - a future where the LGBTQ+ Community doesn't have to be overly sexualized or depressed to be seen.
My first impression of the Heartstopper book series was that it had diversity without making it feel forced. Sometimes, when a writer tries to make their book (or TV show, movie, etc.) "woke," it comes off as preachy or ingenuine, and unnatural. Take, for example, The Hate U Give. At the time, there was a growing number of YA novels about social injustice, but The Hate U Give became the book. Although there were a thousand reasons for its success (phenomenal writing, a compelling story, a great publisher, pure luck), a big contributor was Angie Thomas's ability to create a sense of realism. She didn't turn the dialogue on every other page into semi-essays on injustice and racism because she didn't have to; it was already there in between the lines. I know it sounds ridiculous that a writer wouldn't naturally do that, but, turning to television, look at Jane the Virgin after Trump's election. It was great that they wanted to use the platform to create a clear political stance, but they didn't even attempt to be subtle. Watching it years later, I immediately knew when I'd reached episodes from the time of the 2016 election. It reached a point where I dreaded the didactic, unnecessarily drawn-out endings. Heartstopper mercifully errs on the Hate U Give side of the scale. The diversity and inclusivity of the cast is insane - there is, quite literally, a token straight, and just about half of the main characters are people of color - without feeling like Oseman was forcing it into that to fit someone else's idea of inclusion (if that makes sense? it's hard to explain. all books should be as diverse as physically possible, but it should come off as genuine). I don't think I can stress enough how vital it is for young queer people to see stories where they are represented by more than a single character, even if it's the main character. They need to understand that who they are is normal and valid, and the more queer characters in a story, the better they can understand that and the more people the story can help. Digital Spy's review of the show said it perfectly: "if you can't see yourself in the world around you, it's hard to see a future for yourself too." Heartstopper, both the books and the show, offer that future. Young queer people need more than just representation, though; they need to see a support system. So many stories are about queerness isolating someone, and while that's true for a lot of people and should be represented, that's not the only truth, nor is it the one we should accept. Understanding your identity should be a celebration, and that's exactly what Heartstopper argues. The series doesn't shy away from the harsh realities of many queer teen's lives like bullying and depression, but it doesn't present it as a core part of the LGBTQ+ Community. In Heartstopper, bullying is an outside problem targeting queer people. It can dramatically affect a queer person's mental health, but it can't dictate what it means to be queer. That kindness and compassion and love is just so important - I know I'm repeating myself, but no one tells you that as a kid! That's just not what you're taught, and to see it be available and mainstream for people younger than me is enough to bring tears to my eyes. They have someone telling them that being queer is beautiful! There is so much joy and pride and community that comes with being queer, and finally a story is presenting that! It's even more remarkable that there is a (sort of) well advertised TV show. For a show about queer people to gain attention from its distributor, the show pretty-much-always has to overly sexualize and dramatize queer teens, preferably in another language so that Americans aren't the primary audience (and reinforcing the idea to Americans that LGBTQ+ people are foreign or uncommon in their own lives). I can only think of four prominent live action teen shows about queer people: Euphoria, Elite, Young Royals, and Sex Education. Of those four, all of them sexualize the characters, two of them are in another language, and only one of them is actually mainstream for an American audience. They're not necessarily bad shows; Young Royals is one of my favorites, actually, and of what I've seen from the other three (the pilots of Euphoria and Elite, trailers and clips of Sex Education), they're just as fantastic. All four of those shows have had some unique positive effect on the LGBTQ+ Community, but they sometimes also present depression, drama, and sex as the core of the community when, in my experience, it should actually be the happiness and togetherness and diversity. There have been shows that represent that - most recently, Julie and the Phantoms, although the queer experience wasn't the center of that show - but they often get either ignored or cancelled, despite popularity or critical acclaim. Love, Victor (a show somewhere between Sex Education and Heartstopper, in terms of how they frame the representation) was originally going to be released on Disney+ but was moved to Hulu because of "adult themes" - "adult themes," of course, that aren't too adult for Disney+ in Never Been Kissed or 10 Things I Hate About You. "Adult themes" that aren't too adult in The Fault in Our Stars or Hamilton or Marvel's Runaways. And what does Love, Victor have that all of those green lighted shows and movies don't? Queer people! Once the show released, it got increasingly less marketing - to the point where, when the second season came out, I didn't know about it for a full three months. After lower views brought on by Hulu's own marketing team, the upcoming third season will be its last. Heartstopper, on the other hand, received decent marketing, even making it into the Top 10 in the US (as of April 26, it's still #9!) and earning a Rotten Tomatoes score of 100%! It's a beautiful story with a fantastic message and representation that I would kill to be able to give to ten-year-old me. It tells LGBTQ+ youth that they are not only worthy of love, but that they need it just as much as anyone else, and for that, I am forever grateful. If you're looking for a bit of gay fluff romance or even a little hope for the future of YA media, I cannot recommend Heartstopper, both the books and the series, enough. Today's review felt a bit out-of-sorts. I went into a few ideas outside of the realm of reviews, and I didn't stay focused on the actual books much, but it was cathartic to get this all on paper. I hope it made sense. Until next time, keep reading, readers. I am, in general, not a very impulsive buyer. Yes, I probably have a few too many pairs of shoes and (far too many) sweatshirts, but usually, I consider my bank account before hitting Proceed to Checkout. But with books… I just can't seem to stop myself. Part of it is definitely the feeling that it is, in a way, a productive buy. Reading is good for me. Taylor Swift merch for every album isn't (although it's good for my soul). Mostly, though, I just like owning books. I like filling my bookshelves; I like figuring out where a new book fits in the rainbow organization (yes, I'm one of those YA readers). Getting book mail is thrilling: the new book smell, the cool dust jacket, the surprise of pretty endpaper.
My shopping-to-reading ration, however, isn't exactly great. Today, I'm going over all of my unread/DNF books in my shelves and why I bought them in the first place. Unread Books in My Shelf 1. Lore by Alexandra Bracken This one is technically my sister's, but they're away at college and don't have space in their dorm room, so it's mine now. I had planned to buy it, anyway, after it became massively popular and featured itself on the Top 10 books in every Goodreads email. I'm hoping to read it soon, although it's not number one on my list. 2. In Deeper Waters F. T. Lukens Another one that isn't officially mine, but it's about gay pirates, so I desperately needed it on my shelf. Luken's debut seems like fun, doesn't it? Nothing serious or think-y, just a fluffy romance with a sprinkle of fantasy tropes to add a little spice. 3. Lovely War by Julie Berry A beautiful book. I remember it releasing and immediately wanting a copy, but every time I went to the store, there were other books I wanted a little bit more. Eventually, I splurged on it during a four-book shop. I probably won't read it for a couple months, if then, because it seems like a very thoughtful book, and those get slightly too hard to read when school is intense. 4. Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng My neighbor actually gave this one to me about a week ago. I've had my eye on it for a while, so when it was offered up, I jumped on it right away. With its long list of accolades and awards, I don't think I need to explain why I'm so excited to read it. Fun fact: when I first found this book, it was because I was considering the exact same name as a working title for a novel (I ruled that out after a quick google search). 5. With the Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo This was a Christmas gift a few years back. My family always does a Pollyanna since there are so many of us (ten, including in-laws) and one year, the person who had me bought five or six novels from my Want to Read on Goodreads. I've already read Acevedo's The Poet X, so I'm interested to see how her voice comes through in prose. 6. The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind by Bryan Mealer and William Kamkwamba I genuinely can't remember how I got this book. It might have been a gift from my Nana? Or possibly a steal from another bookshelf in my house? However I got it, it's been on my shelf for years. I'll read it someday, but it's not high on the list since it's a bit too serious and academic for my tastes. 7. The Shadow Cadets of Pennyroyal Academy M. A. Larson With its tropey, fun attitude, Pennyroyal Academy was easy to love, so when I realized there was a sequel years after finishing the first, I bought it right away, and then… nothing. It sat around, waiting to be read. Pennyroyal is like a fever dream that works, and I'm really not sure if the sequel could live up to it. I don't want its name tarnished for me. 8. Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins Remember when everyone on the planet was reading this book? There were a solid two months when every reader had this in their hands, and then it fell off the face of the earth. For some reason, when everyone else was reading it, I was not, and by the time I had a copy, the world had moved on. I'll pick it up eventually. 9. The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black This was actually the first Holly Black book I ever owned. I had no idea who she was, but it looked cool and I didn't recognize any of the other books at the store (oh, to be that sweet, naïve reader again). Even though I have a deep love for Folk of the Air, I haven't gotten around to read this one yet. 10. An Emotion of Great Delight by Tahereh Mafi A beauty. One of my most recent buys, mostly because of the pretty cover. Don't get me wrong—it looks like a fantastic novel. Not exactly my usual genre, but amazing all the same. At some point, I'll have a realistic fiction kick and will knock this book out in a day. 11. Six Crimson Cranes by Elizabeth Lim Probably top three most excited for in my whole shelf. Everyone who's read Lim's most recent only has good things to say about it, and I'm certain I won't be any different. From the inside cover blurb alone, I can already tell that the world building, the characters, everything will be insanely detailed. 12. Little Thieves by Margaret Owens This was a birthday gift from my sister. Her goal was to buy me a new YA book I'd never heard of but would like—a difficult task, especially for someone less invested in YA culture. Nevertheless, she succeeded, and this relatively unknown but well-loved novel looks right up my alley. 13. Instructions for Dancing by Nicola Yoon Yoon's second novel, The Sun is Also a Star, was breathtaking and genius and an all-around genre-bender, but this one seems to focus more on being an enticing romance. When I found a signed copy of it on sale—sale!—I had no choice but to buy it. It was obviously a message from the reading gods that I needed this book in my life. 14. The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee Like the mainstream version of In Deeper Waters, except the queer royalty doesn't make it to the ocean, they're just gay in a palace, and honestly, I'm here for it. This one will be a relaxing and easy read, which is always nice. 15. Dune by Frank Herbert Yes, I did buy this before the movie came out, but unlike everyone else on Earth, I never had any intention of reading it before watching Timothée Chalamet and Zendaya in a desert. I'm certain it's good, but hardcore sci-fi and fantasy bore me sometimes. I need the tropes and the angsty teens to stay invested. 16. Gilded by Marissa Meyer When I tell you I am so excited to read this book—it's just so pretty. The blood dripping from the crown and the dark royal vibes of the gold lettering—chef's kiss. Also, of course, I think Meyer is an extremely talented writer, and hopefully reading this will spur me to buy a Lunar Chronicles box set. 17. The Lives of Saints by Leigh Bardugo In my defense, how many Grishaverse fans have actually read this book? Sure, I think it's very cool that you can own the book Alina was a little obsessed with, but no one was reading those books for the mythology. Mostly, I own it for show. And to look at the pictures, of course. Gorgeous art. DNF Books in My Shelf 1. Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé I kept expecting this to be fantasy. That was my impression of the cover, so when I read a couple chapters, I ended up putting it down and got too busy to pick it back up. From what I read, it was interesting, so hopefully I can get back to it soon. 2. The Midnight Library by Matt Haig My current read, so technically unfinished, but I'm enjoying it and don't plan on starting any other books before it's over. It's a great novel, if a bit slow and sad. 3. The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green This is a book I like going back to. You don't really have to read it all in one sitting to get a good experience, just like how you don't have to listen to more than one episode of the podcast at once. He's just such a smart person. I love reading his takes on things. 4. The Goddess in the Machine by Lora Beth Johnson It's a fun book, but I didn't have time to read it all at once, so I got bored. Somehow, it's too tropey for me. Or maybe the tropes aren't well written? I'm still trying to form my opinion. There'll probably be a review for it down the line. 5. Mind the Gap, Dash & Lily by David Levithan and Rachel Cohen I bought all the Dash & Lily books the year the show came out. I blew through the first book and read the second one quickly, if not as fast as the first, but the third felt forced to me. I'll probably read it for Christmas in July or next Christmas. 6. The Truth About Keeping Secrets by Savannah Brown Someone recommended this book to me, and I added it to my reading list then forgot about it. When I saw it on my TBR later, I was curious, so I bought it, but then the person who recommended it to me actually said that it wasn't the greatest. I started reading it and, like they said, it was fun but I wasn't obsessed. Jeez, this list is long. Far longer than I expected, if I'm being honest. There's nothing like a long TBR to make you feel like a bad reader, am I right? That's something else I wanted to address today. More often than not, I feel like I'm a "bad reader," which a lot of avid readers struggle with when they don't feel so avid-ish. But what does that even mean? That I don't read enough? That too much of my free time is spent on TV shows or with friends? I love the reading community I've found online and with other readers, but if there's one thing I've noticed, it's that it can have serious gatekeeping and guilting. A reminder to everyone: reading is fun. If recreational reading is making you stressed, it's not recreational reading. I know it sounds obvious, but trust me when say that you can't see the soup while you're in it. If you ever notice that you feel guilty when you look at your shelves or remember another book you haven't read yet, try to remind yourself of this: reading isn't the only thing that can make you happy, nor is it necessarily the "best." But what does that mean? Well, I can pretty much guarantee you that you love activities other than reading. Don't feel badly about doing them! Wouldn't it be ridiculous if someone told you that you had to pick one fun thing to do for the rest of your life? It wouldn't be fun anymore! That's exactly what's happening when you guilt yourself for having fun or relaxing without a book in your hand. We're taught from a very young age that reading is good for your brain, and it is, yes, but what we're not taught is that it's not good for your brain to be reading all of the time. It took me a very long time to see that point, and I don't think I've fully accepted it yet, but it's vital in fighting off reading guilt. My therapist recently pointed out to me that if I were to read during all of my free time, my brain would be entirely exhausted, and I wouldn't be able to handle my workload. That's something we tend to ignore, but think about all of the avid readers in your life. Did they slow down as their classes got tougher? Part of the reason people are generally less interested in reading during high school compared to middle school is that they simply don't have the brain power after their classes and homework anymore, at least in my experience. If just looking at a bookshelf makes you feel tired, you're too tired to read. All this to say that having a TBR pile of pre-purchased books isn't necessarily a bad thing. Sorry for the tangent; I guess I thought that there was probably a reader out there who needed to hear it as much as I did. I'm hoping that next month I'll have another review for you (it's been a bit since my last one; reviews are so draining, and as I've clearly just established, I am a tired junior). Until next time, keep reading, readers. (Or don't, if you don't have enough brainpower! Don't push yourself too far! Drink lots of water and rest and find things that make you happy every day!) Happy birthday to the book blog!! Today is the third anniversary of my very first post (which I'm begging you not to read; I don't take old posts down on principle, but I can guarantee you that you'll have a much better time reading my newer ones). To celebrate this momentous occasion, I'm going to be giving you all another look at the woman behind the screen with my opinions on the fifteen most popular tropes in YA. Do I hate the chosen one? Do I love the reluctant royal? Read on to find out.
1. The Chosen One. Many of the tropes on this list are more modern (see: they were roommates), but the Chosen One is an original. There's not much I can say against such a timeless trope, except maybe that it can be boring if it isn't made to be unique. There have been a thousand Harry Potters in the past two decades; I want to see a new spin. 6/10 2. The Outsider. Again, this one is a classic. It seems like, regardless of genre, all the greatest heroes are an outsider in their own way. The trope can be slightly annoying when done poorly (2000's I'm not like other girls makes me scream), but usually creating a sense of loneliness helps the audience connect with the protagonist and raises the stakes. 7/10 3. Dead Parents. Although this one is so overused that it's become a bit of a joke, I kind of love it! Parents usually have plotlines that hinder the protagonist in an annoying way. Plus, dead parents adds to their outsider-ness. Bonus if there's an emotional grieving scene. 8/10 4. Evil Government. This one could go either way. Sometimes, there's really interesting development, and I can completely picture the government. Other times, it's generic and weak. Having the government pronounced evil can provide an easy out and discourage real development of the political system. 5/10 5. Love Triangle. Most of the time, yes, a hundred percent yes. I thrive on the drama. But more often than I like to admit, the triangle turns into a weird toxic moment where the woman's worth is equated to which man she chooses and everyone becomes overprotective and the woman is a prize to be won. In recent years, that's been avoided, thank god, but its effect on the trope is still around. 7/10 6. First Love. Cute, usually, although it can be cringey since it's very end-all, be-all. Like, I get it, you're dramatically and endlessly in love, but do you have to be so extreme about it? 6/10 7. Star-Crossed Lovers. Similar to a love triangle, this can be amazing, as long at it's not used in a toxic way. Most of the time, the problem comes in on why they're star-crossed. Is it because they come from feuding and hateful families that need to be brought together (cute)? Or is it because he's a two hundred year old immortal demon in love with an actual child (creepy)? 6/10 8. Friends to Lovers. This is probably the most hated trope on the list, but, if I'm being honest, I kind of love it. Don't get me wrong, the author can completely ruin it by having the best friend pine in an unsettling, vaguely stalkerish way, but often, it's about a change in how the relationship works, which is both complex and compelling. 8/10 9. Enemies to Lovers. You know what I'm going to say. I'm obsessed with it, obviously. How could I, a major fan of Holly Black's Folk of the Air series, not be completely in love with this trope? There are obviously times this trope is severely misused and promotes abusive or harmful relationships, but usually, it's good fun for the Cardan-lover in all of us. 9/10 10. Dark Haired Bad Boy. I know this one is specific, but isn't it true? Kaz Brekker, Jace Wayland, Gale Hawthorne, Cardan Greenbriar, The Darkling. He's usually one side of a love triangle, the side that appeals to the protagonist's newfound rebellious side. It can be a fun trope at times, when it isn't so toxic (good example: Kaz, bad example: the Darkling), but usually it's too problematic for me to get behind. 5/10 11. Opposites Attract. Similar to the last one, this can be a problem. Usually, there's an uptight good girl and a laid back bad boy. The woman is always the person to change, despite being better than the man. The only example I can remember where I felt like both characters had to develop and change is Nate and Bronwyn in One of Us is Lying, but even then, they weren't as interesting in the sequel. Obviously, there are cute examples, but the trope is dominated by too many problems for me to love it. 4/10 12. Reluctant Royal. This is another controversial one, but I have to say: I'm on board. Sure, sometimes it turns into I hate being rich and powerful, I wish I were poor because then I could be happy, but many times it's about the nuances of inherited power and how that plays into someone's life and relationships. 8/10 13. Fake Dating. How can anyone hate a good fake dating scheme? It's charming, it's funny, it's opposites attract without the toxic part. The very best example of this is To All the Boys I've Loved Before. In the book, Peter and Lara Jean hate each other at first, but the mutually beneficial deal draws them together. 9/10 14. One Bed. Usually a very interesting time. Sometimes it's creepy, like when paired with the Dark Haired Bad Boy, turning it into a situation where you have to address that you can't trust him (unless Holly Black writes it, and then it's cute). Negative points, however, if you introduce the trope and then scrap it entirely (Rainbow Rowell in Any Way the Wind Blows, I'm glaring at you). 7/10 15. They Were Roommates. This trope is always cute, and you know it. It's giving queerbaiting without the baiting part, which is what we all need in life. My only issue with this trope is that it doesn't happen enough. I mean, that moment where the protagonist realizes they're in love with the roommate and starts getting weird about everything they do? Iconic. Unforgettable. Adorable. 10/10 It feels like the last blogiversary was so long ago, and my first blog post must have been a lifetime ago. Only three years, really? Only three years since I started this blog on a whim, not knowing that a year and two weeks later I would be sent home for eighteen months. There weren't many constants for me those days; I floated from class to class with the work already done and spent weeks at a time binging TV series or book series or both at once. Writing reviews gave me a space to be both creative and structured. I had a goal and a formula, but I also had fun. Writing is one of very few activities that didn't change with the pandemic, and for that, I will always be grateful. In the last year, I've become more experimental on my blog. I've tried out lists and fanart and reviews that go beyond pure hate or pure adoration. Thank you to all of my readers for the support and for coming back to read my ramblings. It's funny; I never imagine this place ever having any readers, and then I'm talking about something I put in a review to a friend, and they say, "I know, I read it." Once, I was approached by someone I barely even knew, and she told me how much she loved my book covers. It's always shocking and touching and exciting to know I have readers—plural—and I don't say thank you enough about it. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Here's to another year of rants and reviews and raves. Until next time, keep reading, readers. It's been a long time since I last finished an album of book covers. I have half of folklore, half of evermore, and bits of Taylor's other albums, but finishing an entire LP of book covers requires a lot of focus. Usually, something inspires me for a specific song; I don't often go into a cover without a vision for what I want it to be, but when I'm trying to finish an album, I need to power through the uninspired covers. I might create seven different mediocre options, scrap all of them, then come up with an actual idea six days later. Two weeks ago, with Valentine's Day on the horizon, I became determined to face my issue and finish Taylor's famously romantic album Lover. There are a few common misconceptions about Lover that I want to get out of the way before we go into it. First: "Lover only has love songs." Wrong. Lover only has songs about love, but that could mean anything, from romantic "love songs" to heartbreak songs to songs in grief to songs enraged without society's love. Really, the album is about moving on from the dark reputation period and watching the sunrise. Second: "Lover is for kids." Yes, she says, "Hey kids, spelling is fun!" in the original version of "ME!" but that does not mean this is a kids album! What child would you let hear "False God," or even "I Think He Knows"? "The Archer" is far too intense for children. Third: "Lover is Taylor's worst album." People who think that can leave. They can leave right now. Lover is not necessarily her best, but this is the writer of "All Too Well (10 Minute Version)" we're talking about. Not her best means deserves a Grammy, in this case. Maybe I should let the covers explain the nuances of Lover, yeah? Without further ado, I give you: Lover as books. 1. I FORGOT THAT YOU EXISTED This is one of my favorites out of all the cover I've ever made. I forget what song it was originally for, but it definitely wasn't "IFTYE," and then while I was putting the elements together, I knew that it couldn't be anything except a self-help book. Recently, self-help books have funny, unexpected titles, and this song fits that so well (especially with the parenthetical subtitle). For the description, I wanted to make it more basic and reflect the themes of the album as a whole. 2. CRUEL SUMMER Another one of my favorites. I spent a long time on that title, and it turned out exactly how I wanted it to. For the description, I mostly focused on following the clear story told in the song. I especially love the line, "the girl with a few too many knives in her back;" I think it reflects both people's opinions of Taylor at the time and the mindset of the character in the song. 3. LOVER I'm going to be honest: this one isn't my favorite. But, in a way, I made it not my favorite on purpose. It's supposed to be the movie edition, and when are movie covers ever any good? Especially when it's coming from Netflix; they don't always work as hard when it comes to book advertising for the adaptation when compared to movie studios who are counting on the fanbase to buy tickets. 4. THE MAN Another cover that I think I really nailed. It's serious adult fiction, and I think the standoffish attitude of the color scheme and the font choices and the text placement communicates that. I also love the plot I made. I don't think it's the best blurb I've ever written (there was quite a bit of cutting down), but I think it's creative while still sticking to the song. 5. THE ARCHER This was maybe the toughest cover I've ever made. When a song is really meaningful to me, I'm less inspired to make something beautiful for it and more terrified of missing parts of whatever dauntingly fantastic song I'm working on. "The Archer" has always been one of my all-time favorites from her, so creating something that captures the range of emotions I feel in the song was hard. I landed on reflective fantasy with a serious but simplistic cover. 6. I THINK HE KNOWS She's fun, you know? She's Emily in Paris meets 1989 meets Casey McQuiston. I wanted something playful for the cover with a clear logo-ish title that could obviously be used for marketing. I wanted it to seem like a low budget book that suddenly has a very high budget TV show. I think the plot concept pairs well with the song, which can be slightly challenging for less story-oriented lyrics. 7. MISS AMERICANA AND THE HEARTBREAK PRINCE This was one of the very first covers I've ever made, and although there were a few recent tweaks, it's held up nicely. It's a little serious for the contemporary, politically-charged rom com plot, but I love the photo, especially for a Lover song. I actually noticed a couple lyrics in other songs ("light pink sky, up on the roof… / something gave you the nerve / to touch my hand" in "INTHAF" and "sat on the roof, you and I" in "Cornelia Street") that match the photo, which I thought was fun. 8. PAPER RINGS Tell me this is not a bestselling, year-end-favorite romantic comedy. This is the beach read to end all beach reads. This is Young Royals but switch out all of the brooding with lighthearted, good ol' American fun. The color scheme is everything, the font is everything, the names of the characters are everything. I have peaked with this cover. 9. CORNELIA STREET Another cover that turned out really well. Making the street signs look good took longer than I'd like to admit (please don't zoom in on the arrowhead of the ONE WAY sign; I was doing my best), but I'm happy with how they turned out. The color scheme is soft, very borderline romance-rom com. Overall, well done, in my opinion. 10. DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS The sequel to Paper Rings just when you thought it couldn't get any cuter, am I right? The plot is giving Always and Forever, Lara Jean but less straight. I know that the lyrics connection of "paper cuts sting from our paper-thin plans" in this song and the entire concept of "Paper Rings" is a favorite amongst Lover Swifties, so I wanted to honor that and turn the two books into a series. 11. LONDON BOY My goal for this one was to convey mid-2000s romantic comedies that are both very popular and very unrecognizable. It follows the formula of a rom com cover—bright blues and yellows, simple drawing of the protagonist with their love interest, and playful fonts—while still somehow being just the tiniest bit displeasing to the eye. 12. SOON YOU'LL GET BETTER This was hard to make. I know this song means a lot to a lot of people, and I wanted to show all of the beauty in it that I could. I wanted it to look a little like a doctor's note while still feeling serious. It ended up looking like Tuesdays with Morrie, which is funny to me because I sort of hate the cover of that book. (And the contents. A review is in the works.) I'd like to formally apologize to Martie Maguire and Emily Strayer, the other two members of the Chicks. I thought a forward written by three people would be weird, so I picked the lead singer. 13. FALSE GOD Isn't this gorgeous? It was one of those covers that came to me suddenly and was finished within the hour. I have a black-and-orange edition of Dune that I was inspired by. For the plot, I thought I should have it set on Mars because the planet on the cover is orange (obviously it has to be high fantasy/sci-fi—just look at it). I wanted it to be the kind of book that clearly has a huge world and a serious, more adult aspect to it (again, Dune-inspired). 14. YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN This one is amazing and adorable, and I will not be taking feedback for that statement. I really tried to draw from the aesthetics of popular comedy memoirs while also mixing a little with the vibe of This Books is Gay by Juno Dawson. The music video, specifically the celebrity appearances in it, is super important to the culture of the song, so I made sure to include that this isn't just by Taylor; it's also from the amazing list of people who were in the video (I know, usually a book would have all of the names on the cover, but I thought I would do something more like when a TV show says "created by" with only one name, but then there are a thousand other names listed later. 15. AFTERGLOW "Afterglow" is secretly a serious and beautiful song about deep trauma (I say secretly because it's tragically underrated). I wanted that to be reflected in the cover, so I went more realistic fiction with international respect for the cover. Books with abstract designs are big in that category, similar to Somebody's Daughter but less memoir. Like plenty of other covers, I made the romantic aspect a queer relationship. Even though many of Taylor's songs, including this one, have an undisputed muse from a straight relationship, lots of people, including myself, see a queer story in them. That experience can be pushed to the side a lot, especially when who the song is about is such news, so I purposely tried to add in queer characters where it felt right. 16. ME! "ME!" is a love-it-or-hate-it kind of song, and, personally, I love it. It was supposed to be silly and an all-around good time, which I think it achieved spectacularly. (Were there other songs that deserved lead single status? Yes. A thousand percent. "Cruel Summer" all the way.) For this cover, as you probably noticed, the format is a little different. I wanted it to be a picture book to capture the childlike feel of the song, so there's no spine and no real blurb. Picture books are slightly foreign to me, but I think I did a decent job at capturing a style within the genre. 17. IT'S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND I just think this is pretty. There aren't a lot of covers that I make that I think are pretty in the truest sense of the word, but I guess it's fitting here, since "INTHAF" is a wholly pretty song. I love the font; it looks like one I've seen on a few different novels, and I haven't been able to figure out when to use it until now. I specifically mentioned "the queer experience" in this book because the lyrics have gay subtext everywhere, and I thought that it should be a core part of the book. 18. DAYLIGHT
I'm going to be honest, this cover didn't have much of a direction while I was making it. Originally, I'd planned to make it a memoir, but there were already multiple nonfiction or nonfiction-ish books in the album, so I decided against it. Similar to "The Archer," "Daylight" is really personal to me. Even just reading the lyrics of the outro gives me chills. I worked really hard to tie the song to the cover with the plot, which treads a little in 1989 territory but more mature. There you have it, the full album. Which was your favorite? I am personally partial to "Paper Rings," but there are a lot of great ones. I love my covers more and more with each album. This album was definitely a more meaningful experience for me than 1989 or reputation. Lover was the album that first got me into Taylor's music, and all of the songs hold a special place in my heart. For a long time, I ranked it as her best (I have no ranking anymore; it just got too hard). Lover paints a picture of healing and moving on and finding self-acceptance despite not receiving the same kind of love from the rest of the world. When talking about Taylor's fantastic lyrics, people tend to skip over this album, but I always notice a lot of little details in the songs while creating these, and trust me when I say that this album has some of the most impressive and fantastic lyrics Taylor has ever written. If you haven't listened to the album in its entirety yet, take one hour out of your day—just one hour—and listen to it. Read the lyrics; let them soak in. I guarantee you that their beauty will shock you and their truth will move you. Later this month is the book blogiversary, so I have a fun post planned and (mostly) prepped. If you made it this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I know this is on the longer side—the amount of time it took to make it was certainly on the longer side—but I really do have such a good time stretching my creativity and making these covers. Until next time, keep reading, readers. I recently read one of the most popular, most beloved novels of the 1990s. On its twentieth anniversary in 2017, over 15 million copies had already been sold. It has an Emmy Award-winning movie adaptation, it earned the author a net worth of $10 million, and it has been hailed as "an incredible treasure" and "as sweet and nourishing as fresh summer corn." But when I read Mitch Albom's Tuesdays with Morrie, I couldn't wait for it to end.
I went into this book mostly blind as to what it contained. The Goodreads description was thin, and I'd never heard of it before (I'm not very big on 90s memoir phenomenons, believe it or not). Sure, I was slightly skeptical—I usually try to stay away from nonfiction—but I tried to keep an open mind. The entire world seemed to like it, so it couldn't be so bad, right? Wrong. Very, very wrong. I tried to look for good things in this novel, whatever deep and profound ideas other people saw in it; I spent hours thinking on its underdeveloped morals, but when it comes down to it, Tuesdays with Morrie is bland. It has completely dislikeable characters, it's repetitive, and it can't look at the deeper issues to save its life. The characters are atrocious. Everyone supposedly loves Morrie, and while I'm sure he was a nice enough man in life, Mitch Albom does him no justice. He was judgey and stuck in the superiority complex he didn't know he had. Morrie's whole thing was that he loved everyone, but the entire novel was chock-full of him hating everything about American culture. And, you know, I get it, capitalism drives greed. There are plenty of parts of American culture that are unhealthy and destructive, but that doesn't mean it's wholly evil. That doesn't mean he gets to insult everyone in the world and act like he's so much better because he doesn't use phones or enjoy modern media. It's just such a trivial and small-minded way of thinking. How am I supposed to find him charming and refreshing when he said—I kid you not—he misses the 60s and 70s because everyone was empowering themselves and fighting for their rights. A cishet white man with wealth and a safe, steady job said he missed one of the most politically charged, hateful times in modern American history. Who does he think he is? How dare he say that he wanted to live in a time period where people of color and queer people were fighting with everything they had for the right to survive? I know that wasn't his intention, but it was completely insensitive and generally just missed the point of those decades entirely. Mitch was more annoying than offensive. He's passive in everything and buys into what Morrie tells him without question. I didn't really feel as though the book gave me any reason to care about him. He was one of Morrie's students who only got back in touch with Morrie when he found out Morrie was dying. He was just a regular sports writer before the events of this book. I guess the point was that he wasn't interesting until Morrie was back in his life? Except I didn't like Morrie, so that didn't really help me feel interested in Mitch. If the book were well written, I might not care as much that the characters are all terrible. The thing is, it's not well written. Every chapter felt like a repetition of the last. I don't think I could describe any specific scene to you (except, maybe, when Mitch talked about his brother, but that was all of ten pages). In each chapter, Mitch visited Morrie and received bland, generic advice. It was almost always the same thing: "only love is permanent" or "accept death and you can live" or "love wins." I mean, really, after a couple of chapters, his point had been beaten to a bloody pulp. I was listening to the audiobook at 2.5 speed while I read and it still wasn't fast enough. It didn't help that every message was about as deep as a Hallmark greeting card. I understand that this released in 1997, but do you know when Hallmark released? 1910! Almost a hundred years prior! Morrie thought he was the wisest, most enlightened man alive, but really, all he did was clump together surface level issues and claim that had everyone been less focused on material items and more focused on love, there wouldn't have been any problems. He generalizes everything and blames it all on whatever is most convenient for him. Take, for example, his beliefs on relationship problems in his age group. He tells Mitch about older men constantly divorcing and remarrying younger women. To Morrie, this is social commentary on how his generation is unable to find real love and connection because of technology. Yes, you read that right. Technology. According to Morrie, it is not related to sexism. It is not related to the objectification of women. It is not related to a gendered power dynamic taking over an entire generation and stifling the emotional growth of everyone. No, no, that would be silly. This is about smartphones and too much TV. Because what problem isn't, right? Part of the blame, of course, falls to Mitch. He's the author of the story. He should be able to spin this into something. He's a writer! Finding meaning in anything and everything is practically in the job description! But alas, Mitch is a mediocre sports writer who takes the words of an old white man with a penchant for sweeping generalizations as those of a god. This book wouldn't make me so angry if I didn't find it so very damaging. Tuesdays with Morrie had a huge cultural impact. People were eating it up; Oprah was shouting about it from the rooftops (and, in those days, the word of Oprah really was the word of god). But did it have a healthy impact? Not at all, in my opinion. Morrie practically says that we shouldn't move forward as a society. He wanted to revert three and a half decades because his singular life was better. He glorified history and ignored, dismissed, or trivialized many of its negative aspects. His core belief, really, is that anything modern is bad. Tuesdays with Morrie fed into anti-technology culture. Because of the novel's impact, it's not far-fetched to say that society as a whole was affected by that, when in reality, technology is far more helpful than harmful. The world was on the verge of a technological revolution and one of the most popular books of the decade dismissed it with contempt. Most bad things about technology, like the normalization of violence for children and the addictiveness of social media, didn't even exist yet! What's wrong with a phone or a pager or a walkman when all they did was encourage people to connect with each other. Sure, it was a different kind of connection than Morrie was accustomed to, but that's how the world works. The way humans do everything changes with time and evolution and discovery, but writing it off as a wholly bad change is judgemental and hurtful. I tried to find good in Tuesdays with Morrie. I wanted to understand its appeal, but, to be brutally honest, it felt like what stupid people say to make themselves feel smart. Its arguments are easy to fall back on, but they're evasive to the more complex bigger picture. It was a rantier one today. It's been a while since I've gotten a good scream out about a book, so if you made it this far, I'm impressed. Sometimes when my book anger builds up, it comes out as a vicious rage and can be a bit difficult to stomach. My next post (if I find the time to work on it during the short, bitter month of February) will be something special for my blogiversary! Mark your calendars (or don't, because that would actually be weird, since it's not your blogiversary): on February 21, 2022, the book blog turns three! Until then, keep reading, readers. Becauses I've done a couple regular reviews in a row (a whole two!), today I want to go behind the scenes, show the woman behind the curtain. Today, we're talking about my writing process.
It's developed a lot throughout the years. At first, I wrote only brief ideas about the books I was reading, nothing more than a couple paragraphs. Then I started to have more fun with the blog and created long, four-to-six page rants about each and every aspect of the books I read. Now I fall somewhere between the two other methods, with structured but excited reviews. I probably started writing like this around when the pandemic started, and since then, it's worked well, so in this latest style, these are the steps I follow. 1. Read the book. Obviously, I can't review a book I haven't read. But reading a book with the intention of reviewing it is different from reading a book just for fun. Yes, I pick books I think I'll enjoy, and, yes, I review books that I didn't originally plan to, but usually, I try to keep track of what I like or don't like while reading. Many times, I'll even stop reading to type into my notes app a rough paragraph or two about something specific that's been bouncing around in my mind. I don't often keep the exact wording, but I'll copy the notes into a document and try to work them into my rough draft. 2. Rate it on Goodreads. The rating I give a book on Goodreads right after finishing it is a bigger help than you'd expect. When I'm trying to decide the angle I want for the review (i.e. hate it, love it, boring but respectable), I go back to look at how many stars out of five I gave it. I have a general system I keep with my ratings: one is for terrible books with terrible and/or offensive writing; two is for almost-decent books that didn't make me want to gouge my eyes out, but I didn't enjoy or respect; three is a little more fluid, usually going to books that I really enjoyed but didn't think there was much talent in or books that clearly aren't a work of art but didn't put me to sleep; four stars are for books I absolutely loved with decent writing or great writing that's just a tad boring (this is where more personal taste and knit-picking comes in—is it nonfiction? is there a way I would have preferred it to end? bump it down to four); and finally, five stars are for masterpieces, the books that both keep me invested and showcase phenomenal writing. 3. Look at other reviews (if I'm struggling). If I'm really struggling to come up with what to say in my review, I try to figure out what other people are saying about it, which gives me something to compare my own feelings to. Do I agree with them about the Act 2 plot hole? Is the main character actually interesting? Then I can move forward from there with something original. 4. Write a thesis. I know, I know, what is this, AP Lit? But a thesis helps! And it's not usually very formal, just a collection of the main points I want to make so that the writing process is a little easier. If you look through my reviews, you could probably find it somewhere after the small introduction. My thesis for Wayward Son was, "There were great elements, like narrative style and (some) new characters, but most of the book—character relationships, plot devices, content—gave me an unnatural amount of anxiety." 5. Finish the rough draft. Let me emphasis: rough draft. Nothing you read on my blog hasn't gone through at least one round of edits. The first draft isn't usually done in one sitting, so the flow is terrible, and sometimes it downright doesn't make sense. But without the first draft, I don't have anything to work with. 6. Read twice to edit. Most of the time, I have two rounds of edits. The first one is for big mistakes, things like awkward paragraphs and misconstrued points. In my review of Jo & Laurie, there were two full paragraphs I entirely rewrote because they were confusing and redundant. Next, I read for grammatical errors. Commas, capitalization, etc.—all those are fixed during this stage (at least, as many of them as I can find, but I'm not perfect). 7. Come up with a fun title. Sometimes, the title comes to me while I'm writing, like with my final Mediator review. I'm pretty sure I thought of "I'm sick of books with bad endings" way back when I started my review of the early Mediator books. At that point, I'd pretty much planned out how I wanted all three of the reviews I was writing for the series to go; it was only a matter of getting it on the page. Most of the time, title writing is my favorite part of the process. I always try to make it something different than what I've done before, something that gets across the homey, casual feelings I always want to have in my blog posts. Sometimes, I like to make it short and sweet, like the final Mediator book, and sometimes I like to make it long and ridiculous, like when I titled my first Taylor Swift book art post, "I guess I have a new hobby now, because I've made way too much of this very specific fanart for it to be anything else." 8. And then I post it! And then I put the process on repeat, repeat, repeat, writing review after review, although I'm not usually able to get out more than one post a month. Surprisingly, I don't often revisit old posts. With any of my other writing, I love reading old work, but the blog feels so pointless to reread. I'm not actually sure why; maybe because it's my opinion, and I remember it better? Or because I don't want to find a grammatical mistake and cringe? For whatever reason, once it's up, I pretend it doesn't exist and move on. It's a shorter one today (probably why I was able to put it out so soon after the last post). What do you think, talk about the writing process more in the future? Or stick to the usual? Hopefully, I'll be back before the New Year with another review or another fun post. Until then, keep reading, readers. |
headerPainting credit: AuthorLulu Pettit is a student at Jenkintown High School. She's been a huge reader ever since preschool when Mo Willems's Today I Will Fly was her go-to. Now, she mostly spends her reading time curled up with her latest YA obsession, whether that be a Jane Austen classic, a fun teen rom-com, or a suspenseful YA high fantasy series. Archives
February 2023
|