just_one_more_paige's reviews
1493 reviews

 

This reading year has been a fantastic one for me - so many great books! And I am ending it on a doooooozy here. I knew I would be interested in Period because, duh, it's literally my job to talk about menstruation and reproductive health. But this was so much more than I had expected it to be. Literally from the first page of the Introduction, I was hooked. I knew immediately I would love it and needed it for myself...and I returned the library book and ordered my own copy that very day. (Thanks, too, to Libro.fm for the ALC, which I listened to alongside having my personal copy on hand.) I have also, since, recommended it to everyone I work with. Yup - I'm *that* coworker. 

 

Based on the title, Period: The Real Story of Menstruation, you really shouldn't need a blurb to tell you what this book is about. But just in case, here is the one-liner from Goodreads: "A bold and revolutionary perspective on the science and cultural history of menstruation." And that is absolutely on point. Despite the fact that half the world experiences a version of the menstrual cycle and menstruation, there is a real dearth of information and knowledge about it - both scientifically/medically and socially - and the stigma related to it really begs belief considering the breadth of its impact. In this book Clancy "counters the false theories that have long defined the study of the uterus, exposing the eugenic history of gynecology while providing an intersectional feminist perspective on menstruation science." There is a mix of science/medicine, anthropological research, personal stories, interviews and more that come together to give the reader a nuanced and reframed look at the period, as well as an intersectional and expansive (and hopeful!) set of suggestions/ideas for what a better future could look like for those who menstruate. 

 

This review is about to be gushing AF, so buckle up. The actively intersectional feminist and anti-racist and gender inclusive language and unpacking/re-learning of the reality and science of those who menstruate is…everything. It's an absolutely stunning, imperative, move against the status quo. This begins from the very start, as Clancy sets up terminology - how she’ll use it and what the limitations/biases are with certain descriptors/categorizers. And continues as she heads off easy-to-make assumptions and challenging any potential misinterpretations before they even arise, including explaining why she’s in a position to have to get political instead of “just” doing/sharing science. I could not have loved it more. Clancy follows this up by making radical inclusivity the cornerstone of each aspect of menstruation she addresses, from different historical and cultural and religious beliefs/practices to gender diverse perspectives on wanting/not wanting to menstruate to differing reproductive goals to addressing head on the harm of issues like fatphobia and disability unfriendly workplaces/lifestyles that affect us all (thanks to Rebekah Taussig's Sitting Pretty and Heath Fogg Davis' Beyond Trans: Does Gender Matter? for my previous introduction to concepts of universal design that is central here). Similarly, the consistent and head-on interrogation of the racist history of anthropology and eugenics is *standing ovation.* The overall intertwining of the biological and social in this examination of the way we understand and experience menstruation (and femininity) is communicated gorgeously. My goodnesssss. (A small note here: I felt that the book moved more towards a Western Hemisphere-focus as it goes, which I assume due to research availability in part, and mostly because that’s where the author is most affected and where the most power to create a new perspective lies for her. But just as far as a broad-speaking approach goes, I felt that was worth mentioning.) 

 

While all of that is general praise for the perspective and presentation of the information in this book, I also have a few specific things that stood out that I'd like to mention. I so appreciated seeing this scientific debunking of the idea of “normal” periods, not as a primary goal, but as a natural effect of the examination of this topic. What an opening of perspective and mind, to consider that we all lead lives too differently to settle on a “normal” period definition. And really, I loveddddd to see the debunking of all the bullshit limitations on women and what they can/can’t do because of beliefs about reproduction and menstruation (just like everything else in the world, promoted incorrectly to protect the white cis patriarchal power). 

 

In a similar vein, there was just a questioning of so many frameworks, and how they are so deeply biased towards a (Western) white cis male view, that was well done. (As an example, studies about how exercise and other stress affects menstruation never - til recently - looking at the basic daily responsibilities of women as they work domestically as a form of “exercise.”) This plays out in a number of ways, and Clancy's absolutely clear finger pointing at structural reasons as causes for why menstrual complications occur, in line with every other health study, while we continue to try to treat symptoms is important, infuriatingly not a surprise, and a gorgeous first time that I’ve ever seen it applied in this way (while acknowledging the best intentions of the current practices aimed at helping, she is still so sanguinely clear that it won’t ever be enough). Honestly, the fact that menstruation is both seen as too natural/normal to deserve money spent on it (in suppressing, learning about, managing or concealing it, based on personal preference, or other ways) to make it safer and more comfortable and easier to tolerate for a larger number of people WHILE ALSO seen as too gross/taboo to talk about and teach [youth] about is honestly ridiculous. I simply do not understand how more people don’t recognize that for what it is. I mean, for something that affects over half the population roughly monthly for a major chunk of their lives...it's unbelievable. 

 

Ok. back to other things I loved. Clancy's presentation of the pathology of fatness and how it’s used to “explain” or blame reproductive abnormalities as an unfounded scientific/medical practice was so interesting and important for perspective shifting. She also looks at how immune and psychosocial stressors, just like physical/energy stressors, can affect menstruation. And I mean, it's something that in practice I know, but in mechanism here, I learned a lot. Then, taking everything up to that point, and looking at stressors outside of exercise (based on cortisol levels) and interpreting those spikes in the context of where in the cycle a person is, and if that affects the cycle itself or if the cycle point affects the experience of the stress spike... entire conversation was straight up fascinating. Hot damn. And to repeat myself (#sorrynotsorry), I just loved how well all that research and data is compiled here in conversation with sexism and racism and medical bias/disbelief. It's such an important intersection and one that is just recently getting any kind of research traction (as small as it is). 

 

Ok, and then this last chapter, on the future of menstruation and reframing how we think of it to create spaces and options that work for more people is beautiful and, I wish, felt less like a utopia option that’s impossibly out of reach. The conversation about hormonal birth control options and how they’re pushed and patient bodily autonomy/choice and efficacy and medical/pharmaceutical preferences (and dismissal of side effects/insertion pain, because they’re effective and that’s worth it and these are the only options and what choice is there really, then, for women who want that protection?) is really necessary, completely relatable (to this reader), and, of course, frustrating AF. ANd ok, but as a fantasy and sci-fi reader, who loves when periods are addressed in those spaces, that look at menstruation in speculative fiction was wonderful. What a great conceptual imagining of different ways to handle a period/reproduction in the ways only imagination can…let’s stay that unique and creative and talk more about how imagination can inform real life perspectives please! 

 

Friends, I will NEVER be over this book and I will NEVER stop recommending it. Clancy deeply explores this misunderstood and under-understood reproductive function and connects it to so many other intersectional feminist and racist issues: environmentally, health wise, systemically, etc. It’s intertwined from an abolitionist and disability and queer inclusive perspective that freeing one frees us all. I was honestly so impressed with the breadth. And while in some cases I’d have liked more depth in those aspects, the length of the book would then have been obscene, and Clancy addresses it by name-dropping and recommending other activist’s work for anyone who wants more, while focusing more on the anthropologic and medical research that is her speciality. I will say it one more time: everyone should read this, menstruating or not, immediately. 

 

“I promise that this book is full of science. It’s also full of the history and systems at play that complicate the ability of menstruating people to get good information about their own bodies, ask their own questions, and be the ones setting the research agenda.” 

 

“Periods themselves are not necessarily the culprit, or at least they wouldn’t be under different conditions, and giving people who menstruate more supposedly sanitary options doesn’t help nearly as much as would simply giving back the resources we took during centuries of extraction and theft.” 

 

“We need to imagine a future where we acknowledge that we are humans with bodies that need attention and love; that the needs of bodies are all different; that our minds are housed in these bodies and are better off when we don’t ignore the house. More than self-care or body positivity, I am advocating for the radical (but not new or original) idea that humans deserve dignity and that dignity means not only accommodating but celebrating and noticing all people.” 

 

 “As we have destigmatized menstruation by focusing on the science, we have also developed tendency to describe menstruation almost entirely with negative symptomology. […] If all we ever learn is that menstrual cycles make us hormonal, irritable, bloated, angry, depressed, anxious, or in pain, is it any wonder that’s the primary way many of us perceive our experiences?” 

 

“Despite the prevailing cultural association between femininity and being emotional and out of control, femme people are constantly holding ourselves in check. Ultimate femininity, as well as the ability to fit into spaces where everyone cares about your mind and no on about your body, is about passing as not menstruating.” 

 

“Who made the world we live in? Who benefits from it being the way it is? And what are out alternatives?” 

 

This really sounded, in theory, like something I'd be into. Plus, the title is top notch. So, I requested it from NetGalley when I saw it on there awhile ago. And then, I was just never in the mood for it. I tried once, but couldn't find the flow of it. And then, thankfully, I got access to the audiobook through my library, to help move me along, and I have finally read it. Overall vibes remain the same though: solid story, but one that perhaps was not the right fit and/or writing style for me. 

 

I am not sure I could really sum this book up in a blurb if I tried... Looking at the one on Goodreads makes me think I am not alone in that, since I can't say that it really accurately describes the book either. At best, it captures the satirical humor feel, but even then, the blurb is written in a much lighter (way less enigmatic) style. But - *sigh* - it's the best I've got. So, here it is: "Fetter was raised to kill, honed as a knife to cut down his sainted father. This gave him plenty to talk about in therapy. He walked among invisible devils and anti-gods that mock the mortal form. He learned a lethal catechism, lost his shadow, and gained a habit for secrecy. After a blood-soaked childhood, Fetter escaped his rural hometown for the big city, and fell into a broader world where divine destinies are a dime a dozen. Everything in Luriat is more than it seems. Group therapy is recruitment for a revolutionary cadre. Junk email hints at the arrival of a god. Every door is laden with potential, and once closed may never open again. The city is scattered with Bright Doors, looming portals through which a cold wind blows. In this unknowable metropolis, Fetter will discover what kind of man he is, and his discovery will rewrite the world." 

 

Alright, as indicated, I think this book was, for me, a miss. However, I can respect the class of the writing and the incredible metaphorical work the story did. And so, I'm giving it a medium rating and I'm going to talk about the things that impressed me or that I admired, so readers who are like "oh, I love esoteric writing and high brow allegorical stuff" can see if this would be a better fit for them. First, the was satirical AF. It was an incredibly specifically placed (in regards to the setting and world-building of the novel), yet somehow still generic in form (as far as being potentially applicable to multiple belief systems), social commentary on all religions that dictate to followers that nonbelievers must be shunned/punished/converted (in parallel with colonialism), following into the way that religions dictate government/laws, and further the discrimination and violence against other sects and refugee crises that we see often IRL. Similarly there was insightful commentary on how religions/sects begin, the stories that found them, and then ebb and flow in people’s memories until they can be manipulated in the most convenient ways for power grabs because the “truth” is so diminished and/or forever lost to time. Across the board, there were so many figurative and emblematic aspects, for different beliefs and lifestyles and idealism, that I am just sure I didn't catch them all. (Though I must say, Fetter’s ability to float - or not - and the effort to stay grounded, landed pretty obviously and heavily for me. I also really caught the metaphor of being killed by/dying because of the aspects of self that one refuses to see/acknowledge or treats with shame and disgust. It maybe wasn't worth the length of journey once we finally got there, for me, but it was great poetic “justice.”) And it was all situated within a very real, sarcastically humorous, contemporary world with social media and mass marketing and cell phones as cornerstones of image creation despite the ephemeral magics that we also part of reality. In that way, if not in pacing and storytelling style, I felt that it was mildly reminiscent of the messages and vibes of Alif the Unseen. 

 

The narrative voice was an interesting choice, in my opinion. It felt quite slowly paced, despite how much actually happened (travel and world events and death and violence and illness and discoveries and conspiracies and magic, etc.). And the cerebral writing and style made it feel as though things were happening at a great and strange remove. Like there are quite a few dramatic and traumatic events that unfold in these pages, and yet, there is an emotional detachment that I felt, as a reader, because of that narrative voice. I almost didn't care about any of those events, and that is so surprising considering their intensity. I wonder if, perhaps, that is some kind of commentary on disassociation as a survival technique. One other word on the narration (which did also partially explain the remove of the storytelling style)...the "reveal" of the actual voice was a real surprise to me. And I enjoyed that little twist immensely. Finally, I am always here for a portal fantasy situation, and the idea of gods and devils is one I can generally get behind (shoutout to younger Paige's love for the Daughter of Smoke & Bone series), but here too, those concepts felt too esoteric and too separated from me as the reader, for me to feel invested in them as they unfolded on page. 

 

Overall, to recap: this was a very interesting, intellectual and monumental-in-scope style book. It was not quite the right fit for me, but I do really respect what it tried to do and what it managed to accomplish. 

 

“The only way to change the world is through intentional, directed violence.” 

 

“Fame, she says, is how a ruling class conditions artists to docility and incorporates their work to lesser ends. Sedition, unrest, and even revolution are useful to political actors currently out of power.” 

 

“None of the others understand that the law might do anything, at any time, to anyone, and justify itself any way it likes – it is feral, like the invisible laws and powers of the world of which it is a pale imitation.” 

 

“They hide behind unfortunate incident or tense situation or welfare camp for internally displaced persons or a trick of the light.” 

 

“This feeling belongs to the surface of things, but there is no world without its surfaces.” 

 

“Status is a rainbow on a proud soap bubble, inflated to its uttermost.” 

 

“Lessons learned in childhood leave deep roots and are not easily plucked out by adult reasoning.” 

 

“Luck is only someone else’s labour.” 

 

“Kin is greater than the stranger. It is a simple, circular logic, and one that hews close to the natural prejudices of the human animal: we care more for the ones we love than we do for those we hate, and as for those we don’t know, their lives and deaths mean nothing to us.” 

 

“Rulers love to submit, and the Path has always paid too much attention to thrones and not enough to people. […] Power is in people.” 

 

“Every lost past is a world.” 

 

“…it’s not surprising they’re so hungry to haunt us – the histories we forgot, the crimes we buried.” 

 

After reading, and loving, Marske's "The Last Binding" trilogy (A Marvellous Light, A Restless Truth, A Power Unbound) about a year ago, I pre-ordered the shit out of this as soon as I heard of it. She is firmly cemented as my queer romantasy queen and I will make my last stand on that hill. 

 

Borrowing from Goodreads for the blurb: "Mattinesh Jay, dutiful heir to his struggling family business, needs to hire an experienced swordsman to serve as best man for his arranged marriage. Sword-challenge at the ceremony could destroy all hope of restoring his family’s wealth, something that Matti has been trying—and failing—to do for the past ten years. What he can afford, unfortunately, is part-time con artist and full-time charming menace Luca Piere. Luca, for his part, is trying to reinvent himself in a new city. All he wants to do is make some easy money and try to forget the crime he committed in his hometown. He didn’t plan on being blackmailed into giving sword lessons to a chronically responsible—and inconveniently handsome—wool merchant like Matti. However, neither Matti’s business troubles nor Luca himself are quite what they seem. As the days count down to Matti’s wedding, the two of them become entangled in the intrigue and sabotage that have brought Matti’s house to the brink of ruin. And when Luca’s secrets threaten to drive a blade through their growing alliance, both Matti and Luca will have to answer the question: how many lies are you prepared to strip away, when the truth could mean losing everything you want?" 

 

Ok look, I spent this entire book yearning and burning. Marske writes sexual tension that is perfectly excruciating and we get it almost immediately in Swordcrossed. I, quite simply, could not take it. And at the same time, I wanted more and more and more. How does she do it?! Marske shines in her writing of raw emotional need (and the looks and euphemisms that they use to try and sate or distract from it) growing between people, especially ones with many barriers and secrets. It *grips* you. To directly quote the novel, it’s “devastating intimacy.” I was devastated. Matti and Luca are perfectly flawed and needy and careful. Over and over again, they squeezed at my heart. I'll never be over them. 

 

Let me just also mention the plot. Because, yes, there was one of those too. And it was good! There was a political/economic mystery situation that involved some scheming and sleuthing from our MCs and their "accomplices" (primarily, Matti's sister, Maya, and his betrothed, Sofia). (Please note here, that there was kind of a lot of information about wool/cloth/dying/weaving, which I found interesting, but might be a bit extra on extraneous detail for some readers.) Anyways, there was intrigue and drama and one of the most fun culminating scenes in a novel that I have ever read. Was it a surprise reveal situation? Not really. But I was cheering hard for all the wins, especially the bonus relationship/marriage *and* the public takedown of a "won't take no for an answer" suitor. I would have loved to be a guest at that wedding. 

 

Other things I loved included the representation and portrayal of panic attacks. It felt real and handled well. And thematically, Marske really delved into the concept of honesty. How difficult and thorny it can be when considering what counts as lies: being a con artist versus seeming/keeping up appearances. She really explores the risks in fully opening up to someone and which type of lie is harder to overcome, when one is finally being truthful and sharing one’s whole self. Marske writes the bravery in that vulnerability like no one else. 

 

My goodness my heartttt. This was everythinggggg I wanted it to be. A new favorite for sure. (And if you, like me, appreciate a great queer romantasy standalone, with pining galore and enough plot to hold up, check out A Taste of Gold and Iron and The Emperor and the Endless Palace, both of which are reminiscent of Swordcrossed in their own ways.) 

 

“There was no shame in questioning. There was no shame in learning slowly…” 

 

“Nothing good ever came of wanting anything this badly, but gods, Matti was on fire with the thought of it anyway.” 

 

“But growing alongside that was the urge to crack himself open and whisper something true into the air between them.” 

 

“Love was a sword with two edges.” 

 

“When Luca spoke, he lifted his head, and the smile that broke over his face was like the moment when a lock surrendered to Luca's picks. Something gave way before it. Some small piece of machinery fell in Luca's chest with an audible click, some unseen hinges opened, and a soft unfamiliar happiness flowed through the crack.” (I mean COME ONNNNN) 

 

“Luca felt like a piece of plain fabric taking in dye: he wanted to soak this up, thread by thread.” (all the fabric metaphors are really well written) 

 

“Cruel is when you decide that what someone wants doesn't matter, just because you want them and you think that means you're owed something.” (OH YES, speak the truth girl!) 

 

I don't listen to podcasts and I'm not really a comedian/tv person (other than what comes across my radar in the for of memes/clips on IG), so I had never heard of Chelsea Devontex before picking this up. Not that I'm sure a lot tv watchers know all the screenwriters for those shows anyways, but still, the point is, she is way outside my daily frame of reference. But I do appreciate a good memoir, and humor, and I was in the mood for something quick and funny and seemingly easy because the Holiday season is...a lot. So, armed with the ALC of this from Libro.fm and a robust rec from @thestackspod, I decided this was the winner for meeting those vibes. 

 

For real, this memoir is spectacular. Devontez's voice is a mix of tender and angry and heartfelt and humor that I feel like really shouldn’t be possible, and yettttttt, it clearly is. She tells her story in essay form, each of which is named for and built around telling the story of a woman (or a group of women or a representation of women or an inanimate thing she gave a woman’s name) who was supportive, inspiring, impactful, challenging, etc. in ways both healthful and very not, and in the end somehow helped her survive to be or shaped who she is today. In each case, even the horrible ones, she was able to find some kind of sweet spot or silver lining or satisfying reclamation that taught or gave her something. And I loved that framework. 

 

Throughout the essays, we get a range of stories about Devontez's fitful and uneven, but always passionate, childhood and adolescence. There is the "normal" stuff, like inconsistent (and paternally abusive) parenting, struggles with weight and body image, moving around, unhealthy friendships/relationships, fitting in and school-based achievements, getting into the comedy/acting business, general dating drama/humor. But again, her voice is so fresh that it doesn't feel normal at all. (O word: listening to the audiobook was perfect. Her narration is awesome; her voice is so natural and relatable.) And then she talks about some of the much less typical things she experienced, from some lighter aspects, like spirituality and belief in signs, etc. to some more complex topics, like medical complications/scares and sperm donation and being a donor child. This is, in fact, the first time I have read about that, and it was honestly a really interesting and insightful, but of course still humorous, introduction to that topic. It definitely made me interested in reading more, as the moral discussion parallels some adoption conversations as far as the psychological (and unknown biological marker) issues, and that all feels new to the public conscience and very worth learning more about. 

 

And finally: the big, scary, and unnamable domestic violence thing. This was such an affecting piece of the memoir even though, perhaps especially because, Devontez ended up unable to actually share the story with the reader. The inclusion of the chapters (to open and close the book) as they were meant to be, but with all the parts she wasn't legally allowed to say blacked out, was incredibly impactful. You can put together enough that you understand the outline of how bad it was. And yet, despite Devontez having to live and survive and move forward from it - it is her story - she is not allowed to share it?! That an abuser still has enough power that their survivor cannot tell their own story is…so beyond the pale…I am struggling to convey my reactions. These chapters with redacted sections sit so heavily (honestly more heavily than they even would have) because of what those redactions mean, because of whose reputation and life and story is clearly given more import/weight in the world, and because even the [poetic] justice that could have been minimally comforting is withheld... I have feelings. Phew. (A note here: read the Acknowledgements at the end. They too are funny, so worth it in that way. But also, if you wanna be even more infuriated at the system that led her to not be able to actually share her story…and know maybe where to try to affect change…it's important in that way too.) 

 

To circle back to the more positive side of the memoir to finish... The growth over time into what healthy female relationships can do for you - full of boundaries and love - is heart filling. Devontez is so vulnerable in these pages about her journey. And the humor is spot on. But that openness is the real beauty in these pages. And wow, the lessons in the final chapter, from Devontez to her “Young Me” that is out there and maybe reading this are, emotional. There were definitely tears. What a real and raw and hilarious memoir in essays. I really finished this and, with tears of laughter and anger and tenderness still fresh in my eyes, I had to ask myself: how does this much life happen to just one person?! 

 

“I reveled in the power of a woman who does not give a fuck.” 

 

“…I wanted to take all the things about femininity that I’d learned were weak and wield them onstage as a weapon.” 

 

“That’s the thing about gatekeepers. They can’t get past the wall with their own talent, so instead, they offer to guard the door.” 

 

“Shame wraps itself around our throats over time, slowly choking us, and we don't cry out for help because we think we're the only ones suffocating, and we don't want to be a bother. We are all taught to be sweet, be polite, be normal, don't rock the boat, so that those at the top can hold on to the power that doesn't belong to them in the first place.” 

 

“Every time someone shares their story, the lie that we are alone in our pain is shattered…” 

 

“On the flip side, I know many a woman who thinks that because she wants herself to succeed, and she is a woman, she is therefore a feminist, when really she cares nothing about the respect and right of us all, and in fact even benefits from the inequality so she can be the only woman at the boys' club and get more attention, which in her eyes is feminism!” (ooooof this sums it up so perfectly it’s frightening) 

 

“It is the women who crack a joke when the ship has been set on fire who have my undying allegiance.” 

 

“I had thought that savings, friends, connections, healing, time and likability could anoint me some power. But none of those things ate power. Only power is power.” 

 

Ok, I thought I should (and so was planning to) reread Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn before picking this up. But here's the thing...I don't think I remember liking it the first time I read it (or at least, I wasn't into it enough to want to read it again). Then, James was getting so much freaking notice and praise and I wanted to see what it was about for myself. And I realized that, if I waited for a Huck Finn reread, I might never read this. So, I said "F that" to the reread, and jumped right into James with nothing but the vague memories from a childhood read as context.   

 

So, James is, at base, a retelling of Huck Finn. But, in the grand contemporary tradition of retellings, it's told from a new (and historically silenced) perspective...in this case: Jim, the (escaped) enslaved man that Huck adventures down the Mississippi with. The two have a number of adventures, relayed in an episodic sort of narrative style, both together and in moments of separation (which, in this case, means the reader gets the story of Jim's experiences, during those times). From snakebites to con men to being part of a blackface minstrel group, along with the myriad quotidian dangers and terrors of being Black in a slave state (or really, in America), Jim travels up and down the Mississippi trying to stay alive, find his way back to his wife and daughter, and find a way towards freedom as a family. Oh, and simultaneously, develop a deeper relationship with Huck, that takes some twists for both of them, as they spend time together. 

 

Well, I really don't think it affected my reading experience that much, to not really have the context of the original. Maybe it could have made for a more comparative review, but as far as appreciating this book....it was more than impressive enough to stand "alone," as it were. This was a superb piece of literature. The classic framework of the episodic adventure/journey is maintained, as far as I can tell, from the original. There is clearly an unfolding story, and character/relationships development, but it very much jumps from one mini-interaction/escapade to another. Not generally a story-telling style that I am drawn to. However, it is the right fit here. 

 

And the real highlight is the writing, like the words themselves, the reorienting of the narrative, and the messages it carries. The overall style is a really unique mix of the absurd and surreal with the grounded and too real. It is a masterful parody or (or satire maybe...I was never enough of a literary critic/student to truly understand the nuances of some of those differences), and some very genuine insight into, the “handling” of the fragile white consciousness that was, and is, necessary in so many ways for Black survival. It is, like I said, so real...and terrible and horrible in that reality. And it is cuttingly, like blood-drawing levels of sharp, humorous. It also read, to me, like a parable for the origins (for lack of a better word choice) of code-switching. It takes the exaggerated obsequiousness that is always written (when written by white storytellers) as the affect of enslaved people and reclaims and pulls power from that racist and biased presentation. Incredible. 

 

There is also quite a bit of philosophical exploration throughout the novel...on a number of topics related to equity, race and, ultimately, and freedom. Everett asks what those terms and constructs really mean, and in no uncertain terms, asks if they actually mean anything or if it's just power structures that have given them importance. He brings something really visceral and devastating to those conversations. The blooming relationship between Huck and Jim is both heartwarming and heartbreaking in the simultaneous tenderness and distance of the two, on their totally different planes of existence. And that ending... There was a tenuous, but palpable, power in it. One that fills, but doesn't promise. 

 

I absolutely see why this has gotten all the accolades. So well deserved. Jim's narrative voice is not one that I will soon forget. 

 

“The only ones who suffer when they are made to feel inferior is us.” (phewwwwwwww that is too real) 

 

“And the better they feel, the safer we are.” (this one too...too real) 

 

“So, if enough people do it, it’s not a crime.” (and isn’t that still the truth) 

 

“How strange a world, how strange an existence, that one's equal must argue for one's equality, that one's equal must hold a station that allows airing of that argument for oneself, that premises of said argument must be vetted by those equals who do not agree.” 

 

“At that moment, the power of reading made itself clear and real to me. If I could see the words, then no one could control them or what I got from them. They couldn't even know if I was merely seeing them or reading them, sounding them out or comprehending them. It was a completely private affair and completely free and, therefore, completely subversive.” 

 

“When you are a slave, you claim choice, where you can.” 

 

“Folks be funny lak dat. Dey takes the lies dey want and throws away the truths dat scares 'em.”    

 

“A distance you know is shorter than one you don’t.” 

 

“Belief has nothing to do with truth.” 

 

“Was it evil to kill evil?” 

 

“White people often spent time admiring their survival of one thing or another.  I imagined it was because so often they had no need to survive, but only to live.” 

 

This has been sitting on my shelf, unread, for yearssssss. The sudden cold snap dumped me right into a Norwegian winter and witch trials kind of reading mood and the time was finally right to pick it up. 

 

I'm using Goodreads for this blurb, because I'm just not in the mood to get creative with it today: "Finnmark, Norway, 1617. Twenty-year-old Maren Magnusdatter stands on the craggy coast, watching the sea break into a sudden and reckless storm. Forty fishermen, including her brother and father, are drowned and left broken on the rocks below. With the menfolk wiped out, the women of the tiny Northern town of Vardø must fend for themselves. Three years later, a sinister figure arrives. Absalom Cornet comes from Scotland, where he burned witches in the northern isles. He brings with him his young Norwegian wife, Ursa, who is both heady with her husband's authority and terrified by it. In Vardø, and in Maren, Ursa sees something she has never seen before: independent women. But Absalom sees only a place untouched by God and flooded with a mighty evil. As Maren and Ursa are pushed together and are drawn to one another in ways that surprise them both, the island begins to close in on them with Absalom's iron rule threatening Vardø's very existence." 

 

I am not sure exactly what I was expecting from a historical fiction about witch hunts, but this both met and diverged from whatever I was internally ready for. There was an incredibly tragic and heavy air to the whole novel (which makes sense), and yet, the underpinning of feminist and indigenous resistance to external powers was also low-key inspiring. The vibes really seeped into one's bones in the same way cold does - quite apt under the circumstances. This was very much a novel of characters - internally and relationally - and setting. The sense of place that Millwood Hargrave brings forth is so strong. The focus on the quotidian details is impressive, and it's clear that the historical research was thoroughly done. And the character development, alongside the development of the conditions which make it possible for a community to act in this way, so superbly (if terrifyingly) communicated. There is just a slow steadiness to the storytelling cadence that is perfect for the story being told. It's reminiscent, in good ways, of The Wolf and the Woodsman, Book of the Little Axe, and Burial Rites. 

 

The story itself, of the spreading of Christianity and western philosophy onto indigenous/native populations (colonialism), is horribly familiar, of course. It's a tale as old as time, when a way of life/power structure is threatened (even existentially, or with false belief of the threat), suffering to “maintain” that way of life begins. And of course, historically, that usually means women and minorities suffering at the hands of cis white men in positions of power. On that note, I had a full on fiery anger at Absalom (and all the men, really), while reading this. Ooooooof. But back to this novel...this is a version of the story - a place and population - of it that is new to me in the details. So, I (of course) did some of my own research afterwards and learned more, which is something I always appreciate from literature. 

 

On a more hopeful note (and a bit bittersweet by the end, I suppose), what grows between Maren and Ursa, the connection they nurture and that gives them support and strength in return, is tender and precious. The ending, in general and as it relates to them, felt just right. It's not happy (how could it be?) and not *quite* hopeful, but there is a little spark of future possibility past this, a realistically small amount of (unfortunately not enough for what the reader would hope for, but how could that be possible, really?) satisfying retribution.  

 

This novel was not fast paced or twisty/surprising, but it was evocative AF. There is a simmering depth of emotion under the surface of the “action” in the story and it really leaves a strong impression on the reader. 

 

“They are a language […] Just because you do not speak it doesn’t make it devilry.” 

 

“It doesn’t matter what I am, only what they believe I am.” 

 

“How is this godly? […] How can they call their work holy?” 

 

And here we go, with the second and final part of this epic duology. (Reminder: The Radiant Emperor duology is a historical fantasy "retelling" of the founding of the Ming dynasty.) 

 

He Who Drowned the World picks up right where She Who Became the Sun left us. Zhu has successfully reclaimed southern China from the Mongols and is looking ahead at continuing that success by taking it all, and crowning herself emperor. But there are still major players in the game with the same goal and a similar claim to the title as her own. The courtesan Madam Zhang is moving for her husband to get the throne (and has an army to back her up), Wang Baoxiang has maneuvered himself into the capital city and is playing political games behind the scenes to further his own agenda, and the unstable General Ouyang is still single-sightedly set on bringing down the Mongols to avenge his family. Zhu has many allies - her wife Ma and close friend Xu Da supporting her completely - but the odds are still long and the fight will still be violent and dangerous. And Zhu will have to decide how much, and who, she is willing to sacrifice to finally achieve her fate. 

 

The plot was not the only thing that picked up right where it left off. The writing, too, remains just as spectacular. It's incredible quality writing. The plot and character development, the complex political machinations, the subtle and nuanced alliances/betrayals...it all remains just so, so good. It's all balanced together in perfect measure, nothing sacrificed for the sake of another aspect. And the pacing in this second one was even better than the first; I felt like I was on the edge of my seat for the entire book from the complexities of relationships, surprising choices, twists, action scenes, and tragedy/losses. The build of the separate pieces of this story, in parallel with each other, created such an eagerness in me for the moment when it all came together, bringing the novel to its peak. When those moments hit - because there were more than one (!) - they delivered. 

 

Thematically, there was a continued, searing, commentary on perceived gender differences and societal expectations/labels being just that: perceived. Parker-Chan explores through these characters how limiting that actually is on a person's ability to become their full self or imagine a future different (better) from the current. This same commentary and expose on gender is mirrored for external "limitations" placed on people with disabilities, which, again, only limit potential if the person internally lets it. As part of these themes, there is the fact that some of the alliances and character developments in concert with each other are happening within incredibly toxic frameworks (content warnigns for: pain, self harm, emotional manipulation, blackmail/lies, sexual violence/manipulation, extreme un-worked-through grief). It's realistic, but tough to read at times. I also really appreciated the depth with which Parker-Chan delved into a reflection on costs, and how much reaching for a fate/goal is worth. In particular, as some of our primary characters - Zhu, Baoxiang, Madam Zhang - experience losses of those particularly special to them (no spoilers, but there are some big deaths), it does have them really questioning which sacrifices are worth it, and at what point they need to bow out versus would that be disrespectful of another's sacrifice for their cause. It was quite emotionally affecting. On a related note, oh the ghosts that haunt us, and what we do because of/for them, even though it changes nothing of their fate(s) in the end. Heart-wrenching.  

 

The end was not, could not really be, a surprise one. Despite that though, Parker-Chan wrote quite the compelling finale. Zhu grew a lot over these two books, aided in no small part by Ma, and in the final moments of this novel, as she faces one final choice on how to reach her fate and start her new empire, her actions show that growth. She still refuses to not do whatever she must to become emperor, and yet, she also considers what she is willing to do, what she is willing to make those she loves do, and on what note she wants to start this new world of her imagination. That strength of choice and compassion, the power one can pull from it, is such a lingering and powerful message to close on. Finally, I need to say, for me, I was so satisfied by one aspect of the story/ending in particular... The way that everyone who couldn’t accept the expansive view of identity and ability that Zhu was creating the future out of/for, or move past shame of/related to it, doesn’t survive to see said world is telling hits hard. But then, for those who accept/own it, or are willing to reset, there is space made for them, no matter their past deeds. It's sad, hard to come to terms with, in some cases, but also inspires a hope for that future as Zhu and Ma see it.  

 

 Epic. An absolutely epic duology. 

 

 

“…but a weak man, well-managed, is a woman’s greatest strength.” 

 

“But, of course: usually when men saw women, they were performing.” 

 

“It wanted what everyone wanted when they looked at him: to eradicate the hateful thing that didn’t fit into the world as they had made it.” 

 

“Dead was dead. It was only the living who cared. It was only the living who felt, and desired. It was only the living who chained themselves to the past, and told themselves to the past, and told themselves it was for the sake of the dead that they did what they did.” 

 

“Was it really bravery, though, if the reason a boy raised a sword was because an adult's expectations had made him believe there was no other avenue? 'I've always thought honor must be cold comfort to the dying. Given the choice, I'd prefer not to die.'” 

 

“A connection between two people existed only because of their shared belief in it as real. There was no such thing as a connection with only one end. There was no such thing as love, alone.” 

 

“If being the emperor means having the world, then its value must be infinite. It's worth anything. / Perhaps so. But if each death could also be considered the end of that person's unique world-- Then isn't pain infinite, too?” 

 

“To be in contact with someone else's pain was to risk feeling it yourself, unless you severed the connection by hating them. When most people's greatest desire was to avoid pain, of course they would rather hate.” 

 

“…it didn’t have to be real, to hurt.” 

 

“Her triumph was muted by sorrow, for everything that had been given and lost for this moment. Those losses and sacrifices now formed the soil from which her new world would sprout. As the world grew, it would draw up the loving kindness of those sacrifices and knit it into the material of itself. With that as its foundation it could never be like the old world of violence and domination. It would be new. She thought with gratitude: It will be itself.” 

 

This is the third work of nonfiction by Patrick Radden Keefe that I have read (the other two being Empire of Pain and Rogues)...and each has been spectacular. While I think this was an earlier published investigative book, and I was recommended it by a number of people, it apparently grabbed me less than the others, as I waited until now to pick it up. I won't lie, the recently released Hulu series based on it didn't not have something to do with the timing on that. Anyways, here we are, and it was worth the wait. 

 

In this book, Keefe breaks down  - as much as one can, in a single volume - The Troubles in Northern Ireland. The telling is centered around the disappearance, and unsolved murder, of Jean McConville (a widowed mother of ten) in Belfast in 1972. Although everyone knew that the I.R.A. was responsible, the rampant fear and paranoia of the time, and the culture of shame for anyone who broke silence about their plans/actions, no one would talk about it. While disappearances like this weren't as common, the environment of guerrilla warfare in the streets, many deaths, and complex political and social lines that were violently enforced, absolutely was. And the aftermath of this conflict and brutality, in which many consequences have not been truly reckoned with, and many secrets still exist, is not that much better. The peace accords were, and still are in many ways, uneasy, and fell very short of the goal of a united Ireland that the I.R.A. was fighting for...leaving [previous] members bitter and unsure about the justification of their violence. Then, of course, there is the question of the legacy of that violence on the community - perpetrators and victims - left behind.     

 

Well, Keefe is truly a master of his craft. This is absolutely spellbinding nonfiction. I listened to the audiobook, which was very well narrated, and I literally could not stop listening. This was clearly so deeply and thoroughly researched. And there were so many perspectives, each layered and corroborated narratives, that brought together a greater picture of living during The Troubles. I also appreciated the clear note afterwards, in which Keefe addresses the missing perspectives and voices, along with the many challenges in accessing not just those, but even the limitation with the POVs he did get. 

 

Other than the re-creation of the time and place and lives of those that lived it (to the best that he was able), the thing I appreciated most about this book was the nuance with which Keefe explores questions of morality and blame and the complications of a conflict like this happening within such a small community. It is all incredibly presented, thought-provoking, and reflective on such a complex reality.  

 

I’ll be thinking about this for a long time - both in its own right, and in the ways it can be extrapolated to many other regions and situations. Thinking about the impacts of this conflict, that even on a scale this geographically small it’s still so intense and long/far-reaching...imagining how many similar - and larger - conflicts are happening around the world (and affecting their communities in ways this intense) is a lot to conceptualize. 

 

“….but sometimes it’s the myths we believe most fervently of all.” 

 

“Who should be held accountable for a shared history of violence?” 

 

This one was brought to my attention by @thestackspod, which is how most of my recent nonfiction choices have made it onto my TBR. So, not really a surprise, but definitely still deserving of a shoutout.   

 

In this research/journalistic nonfiction, Asgarian takes on the incredibly tragic story of the Hart family murders/suicides from a (previously unvoiced) new perspective. For those who weren't really aware of the story as it happened - as, to be honest, I was not - in 2018, Jennifer and Sarah Hart, a married couple who had adopted six Black children from two different families in Texas, drove themselves and all six kids off a cliff (literally) on the Pacific Coast Highway in CA. With time and investigative efforts, a story of years of abuse and neglect emerged, culminating in the deaths of all eight family members. While popular media seemed to focus most on Sarah and Jennifer, as many stories of adoption do, Asgarian chooses here to give voice to the adoptees themselves, as much as possible, and the birth families that they were taken from, asking the difficult questions about culpability in regards to the systems that put these six children in such an unsafe, unhealthy, and ultimately deadly situation.  

 

This was, all told, an incredibly emotionally difficult read. One of the primary emotions for me, for the majority, was anger. I mean, this story is absolutely infuriating. It’s clear on almost every page how systemic, institutional, and sometimes individual/personal racism created a situation where biological/extended family that wanted and fought for these kids is turned away in favor of an adoptive family that meets “societal standards” of white and middle class, even in the face of myriad signs and indications that the Hart''s were not the safest/best options for these kids. I mean, some reports of what was happening in the adoptive home were even worse than the situations the children were forcefully removed from in their birth families, and that didn't seem to matter at all. The number of red flags and warning signs and actual calls to police and CPS that were never or minimally followed up on, happened far enough apart that people could ignore the pattern, or happened across state lines and therefore patterns weren’t easy to follow - it’s mindblowingly upsetting. So much seems to come back to the fact that Jennifer and Sarah presented a “believable” and “respectable” front (but like, let’s talk about inherent racial/gender bias in that assumption, for real) and people being too constrained by “politeness” and not wanting to rock the boat. UGH. And, to be fair, the overload on the people working for the protective systems is real, regardless of how many other issues there are with said systems. Coming back to, though, the contrast in what led to these children’s birth parents’ losing custody, and what was allowed to continue in the home of their adoptive parents, is stark. And that difference continues in how the media and legal/Law enforcement representatives interpreted and acted and carefully chose their language after the fact.  The common assumption that these children were better off with the white women who had adopted them than under whatever conditions in their early childhood homes were like… If nothing else hits the reader (and many other things should/do), the unevenness and bias in views on this is an imperative takeaway. 

 

As Asgarian told the story of the two birth families of these youth, she provided an environmental study, for context, as well. Specifically, she intertwined a narration of these families experiences, through their own words and the documents/records tracking it, with a larger indictment of the systems involved (legal and social work and juvenile justice, particularly in the states - TX and MN - centered here), and a history of “orphans” and adoption in the US that got us and these systems to this level of functioning in the first place. And let me tell you, none of that context made me less infuriated. Like, the intertwining of the juvenile justice system and child welfare system “dual status youth” occur at such high percentages that it should not take a tragedy like this to indicate and merit a closer look and a massive overhaul. Yikes. (Side note, as comps read, if you are interested in more perspectives of these systems and the youth affected, Invisible Child and Pushout are both books I'd recommend.) I mean so many children, our most vulnerable population, coming from already difficult situations, being so routinely abused and not provided care/attention/love, with no recourse for complaints and no way to support/backup those claims of abuse, are just left left in a place with no hope and no vision of a different future and no reason to feel like living, and then provided no services/care/support when they "age out." Because it’s so easy to shove aside this whole population, out of sight out of mind, we then are somehow surprised how, after years of trauma and abuse, there are so many unmet needs and inability to adjust to "regular" life... Horrifying.  

 

The cycle of intergenerational involvement in foster and juvenile detention systems is devastating to watch unfold (especially seeing the roles these systems played in the outcome of this story). Blame is thrown all around, but where is the outcry at the many whose decisions on behalf of the children, at every step of their lives, put them in this situation? The systems that are, supposedly, there for the best interests/protection of the children, are in no way held accountable, for their role in this (absolutely avoidable) tragedy. And really, there is just so much punitive action, that is in no way actually centering to helping the needs of the child, the way these systems deal with the birth families/parents. I know this review might be getting repetitive, but I just had so much anger, and I needed to get it all out, and writing my feelings seemed to be the best immediate option. Anyways, let's also point out how “neglect” is often just a euphemism for “poverty” - and that’s not a fault of the parent for not caring/providing, but not being able to under a reality of systemic inequality in this country. And then, like, if foster placements get a monthly stipend to help with childcare costs, could the birth family not just get that and reach the same end faster, without the trauma of being in the system and moving homes and all the extra bureaucracy involved? 

 

One other beautiful and resounding message in these pages: you cannot separate someone from their past and where they’ve come from. It’s not possible. So, does removing a child from a home, even if it's a traumatic one (but all the other stable aspects and relationships of life that they’ve built in a place they are comfortable with), do the good it’s meant to? Are we balancing that against when that removal and upheaval and lack of all known connections and threat of future moves/reprisals/change hanging over them always adds even more trauma? Maybe it does, sometimes. But it is still worth due consideration, and it's for sure not getting that now.  

 

After reading it, this title is devastatingly on point. My heart breaks. And overall, this is a wonderfully inclusive account...making sure to center a bit extra those voices who’d previously been sidelined (in myriad other platforms) to even a playing field, but giving voice to all the parties in the end (exactly what anti-racism and inclusivity activism asks for). A truly, deeply, affecting read. 

 

“Once adopted, the law says that...all of the rights and care transfers to the adopted parents, and the mothers - the birth mothers - are expected to just disappear, just go away [...] And that's very difficult to do, emotionally, spiritually, physically. We still do exist.” (Oooof, I mean I know in some cases for the child, that contact cutting is necessary/beneficial, but even in those cases, that birth parent deserves to find out information in a more humane and dignified way) 

 

“By hyper-individualizing the story - making it about one woman with dark psychological problems - the media largely let the state systems that failed the birth mothers off the hook. It let listeners and readers off the hook, too - free to enjoy the wacky and bizarre tale without thinking of how it came to occur.” 

 

"It's possible that a major reason the Harts escaped accountability for so long, and the children were not saved, is that many people, both inside and outside the child welfare system, held a common assumption: that these six Black children must be better off with the white women who adopted the, that whatever issues they were having as a family must have been an improvement for the children over the poor conditions of their early childhood homes." 

 

“The children’s birth families were not beating their children, or starving them; they were clearly struggling with substance use and mental illness, but instead of receiving help, the parents were punished. On the other hand, authorities consistently projected a halo of goodness onto the adoptive mothers, throughout a decade of abuse allegations and even after the murder of their children, with cops and other officials bending over backward to interpret their actions in the kindest possible light.” 

 

“The state’s response to parental harm, though, is not meted out equally.” 

 

“In a society that resorts to individual punishment as a response to many of its systemic ills, this concept is deeply embedded into our psyches, and it is hard to let go.” (a comment on all abolition advocacy work) 

 

“But children both young and older exist in the context of their own families, their own histories.” 

 

This one made a lot of (early) end-of-year lists, and was recommended to me by a coworker, and (above all) just looked really up my alley. Science fiction and romance and spy thriller and workplace comedy all mashed together?! Yes, please. I am always here for a genre-bending read. 

 

In London, in the near future, a government worker gets a top secret job. She'll be working as a "bridge," essentially a guide/caseworker for an "expat" newly arrived from a historical time. Time travel has just been...found...and the Ministry of Time is trying to figure out whether it's actually possible (both physically, for the body, and metaphysically, for the fabric of space-time). Our (unnamed) narrator's assignee is Graham Gore, brought to the future from 1847, one of the members of Sir John Franklin's ill-fated (everyone died, of starvation and exposure, and there was probably cannibalism involved) 1845 Arctic exploration team. As the two spend all their time together, with Graham adjusting to all aspects of modern life (household appliances, streaming music, world wars, etc.), our MC finds herself falling for his self-assured and suave ways. And they both make friends with the cast of (mostly) charming and uniquely-voiced fellow "expats" and their bridges. When the full scope of the Ministry's time travel project/plans start coming to light, our MC, Graham, and the other expats/bridges find their lives in danger, with threats of moles, spies and conspiracies coming at them from (from within the Ministry) across time. 

 

This definitely delivered on the genre mix-match in the blurb. The time travel aspects were some hardcore scifi...to the extent that as a few points, I did my normal "zone out and just go with it" on the details because I was super into the plot but didn't care as much about the specifics of how it was working. Personal preference. But do know that, if you are someone that does care about those details, you may have to pay some very real attention. The romance piece was slowwwwww burn and I was here for it. Such a fantastic build in connection, the heat was hot, and, when the betrayal hit as part of the plot (spoiler-ish, but also the foreshadowing throughout was strong, so it's not really a surprise), it was just right. PLus, an ending of promise and distant, but possible, hope. Yes, yes. The tension build and spy thriller pieces also had a slower build (which I was ready for, when it hit, but glad for the delay on, because it allowed for a great depth of character build prior to its introduction), and came on strong at the end. To be honest, this was perhaps the most uneven part. There were a few hints that were dropped or that the MC figured out, that were so vaguely addressed/explained, that I didn't quite catch them. It all came together in the end, but it was the weakest written part, IMO. 

 

I have a ton of other things I want to say. Because, despite some of the confusing/less clear things, I really liked this book. First of all, I was captivated by the narrative as the MC and Gore’s relationship grows. Even though nothing really happens, for a long time, it was so compelling. And I mean, I have read my fair share of time travel (like Kindred and Outlander), but this is such a theoretical/philosophical perspective of it. Really thoughtful. Relatedly, the insights into humanity, with some moral and scientific musings (reminiscent of Real Americans, a bit), and cultural and social critique added a lot of depth to the story, but all of it is delivered with a dryly humorous edge (like an older Victorian or classic lit vibe, Austen-esque, which also fits the vibes of the expat characters well). 

 

Speaking of the expats, the character development, relationally and internally, was just fantastic. Each expat's voice was so unique. There was such emotional depth across such a range of experiences. And the diversity of takes on the ways people might adjust across time, based on changes in gender and racial and sexuality equality and how it’s different nowadays than in previous eras, plus what jobs/roles they had and how those equate to existences in the present day (what skills/identities are useful/transferable and what makes people feel obsolete) was so fully explored. As far as the bridges, there was an interesting moral dilemma...as part of their job was to track and report on the expats, yet (especially with our narrator) the emotional connections (and hints about more nefarious purposes for the work) were in opposition to the job requirements. So, how do you navigate that? What’s for a person's safety and what is a transgression? Just really, character development was a hugeeee highlight for me. 

 

I also appreciated some of the heavier thematic pieces. This look at refugee reality, through a sci-fi out-of-time look, is so original, but still has the familiar, clear and present (but not overhanded) truth of the parallels with the geographical version of refugees as we understand them. Similarly, what a fascinating exploration of the interplay of racial understanding and political correctness now versus in history. I always appreciate when an author can take a step back from something so recognizable, everyday, "normal," as see/describe it as an outsider would. Bradley does so in a spellbinding way (the Austen-esque vibes of the social writing hit well here too). And, the questions: Do we hope/work for change for the future or despair? And what route do we take to achieve whichever end we want? They hit pretty hard at the end.       

 

Finally, I loved the focus on the small people, the relationships that history forgets or doesn’t care about, the way that their stories can be altered, be made better...because the larger story of history will not change even if they get their happier endings, because history is written by those with power, who will continue to not care about those individuals and their loves and lives. Those small people are us and we see ourselves in them. What a message, what feelings for the reader. 

 

Phew, this was some real mind bending conceptualization of time travel, wrapped in a spy thriller, slow burn romance, character development piece.  What scope. What an undertaking. I’m so impressed it was all that and a page-turner. 

 

“I’d sat with the term "internally displaced person" until I'd broken it down semantically. I was wrestling with a ghost meaning: a person whose interiority was at odds with their exteriority, who was internally (in themselves) displaced.” 

 

“One of the many hypotheses coagulating in these early days of time-travel was that language informed experience - that we did not simply describe but create our world through language..." 

 

“History is not a series of causes and effects which may be changed like switching trains on a track. It is a narrative agreement about what has happened and what is happening. [...] History is what we need to happen. You talk about changing history, but you're trying to change the future. It's an important semantic differentiation in this field.” 

 

“Ah, love, life’s greatest catastrophe.” 

 

“This was one of my first lessons in how you make the future: moment by moment, you seal the doors of possibility behind you.” 

 

“It was so hard not to treat the expats like blank slates onto which I might write my opinions. […] There was something hauntingly young about all of them, a scarcity of cultural context that felt teenaged, and I didn’t know if my fascination with it was maternal or predatory.” 

 

“Her reasons were bad, half-veiled. Then again, whose upper management am I not describing? Who trusts their workplace? Who thinks their job is on the side of right? They fed us all poison from a bottle marked “prestige,” and we developed a high tolerance for bitterness.” 

 

***“You can’t trauma-proof life, and you can’t hurt-proof your relationships. You have to accept you will cause harm to yourself and others. But you can also fuck up, really badly, and not learn anything from it except that you fucked up. It’s the same with oppression. You don’t gain any special knowledge from being marginalized. But you do gain something from stepping outside your hurt and examining the scaffolding of your oppression.” 

 

“People liked him and so they imagined that he agreed with them - all likable people know how to be a flattering mirror…” 

 

“What was it like growing up with that? […] I don’t know […] What was it like growing up without it?” (so much exploration of the concept of how can we possibly, ever, understand/conceptualize another’s experiences) 

 

“Everything that has ever been could have been prevented, and none of it was. The only thing you can mend is the future.” (I mean, hot damn, this is hitting so hard.) 

 

“…after all, the things that happen between lovers are lost to the work of history anyway.” 

 

“I had always thought of joy as a shouting…know what to do.” 

 

“When something changes you constitutionally, you say: ‘The earth moved.’ But the earth stays the same. It’s your relationship with the ground that shifts.” 

 

“I don’t mean to sound pessimistic. I only do because I can see how wrong my choices were. Don’t do it like this. Don’t enter believing yourself a node in a grand undertaking, that your past and your trauma will define your future, that individuals don’t matter. The most radical thing I ever did was love him, and I wasn’t even the first person in this story to do that. But you can get it right, if you try. You will have hope, and you have been forgiven. Forgiveness, which takes you back to the person you were and lets you reset them. Hope, which exists in a future in which you are new. Forgiveness and hope are miracles. They let you change your life. They are time-travel.”