Exploring the World of Stephen King: The Art and Craft of Stephen King by Guy Astic and Frank Lafond

 The Art and Craft of Stephen King: The Story Behind Every Novel, Novella, and Short Story by Guy Astic and Frank Lafond

The Art and Craft of Stephen King cover

Author and researcher Guy Astic

Author and researcher Frank Lafond

Credit due to Guy Astic and Frank Lafond, authors of the massive, encyclopedic entry into Stephen King’s universe titled The Art and Craft of Stephen King: The Story Behind Every Novel, Novella, and Short Story, for providing fans with a wonderful reference to all of King’s work, and in some cases, making intertextual connections to allow readers to see references to characters, places and events that frequently occur from Derry to Castle Rock. Astic and Lafond have covered nearly all of the bases in King’s writing and filmography, providing the background to the stories, novels, and novellas, while also noting literary allusions and influences that King incorporated in his writing. Each chapter of the book closely examines one book, with some chapters focused on short story collections, examining themes within the collections, while also noting how the stories may relate to other novels that arrived later in King’s career. I especially loved the sidebars “For King Addicts”, where the authors provide some deeper level knowledge for King fans, whether it’s personal connections and history from King related to a specific book, or what was happening in King’s life at the time of the writing of the book. It’s fascinating to learn some of these hidden tidbits about some of my favorite books by one of my favorite authors. Each chapter also has a section that focuses on the screen adaptation of the book, allowing fans to learn more about how these novels were adapted for the big screen and helped to further cement King’s status as the modern master of horror. While I loved learning more about the writing behind these books, I think learning about the film adaptations was also fascinating—especially as they note how King’s bankability took a hit in the 80s after the success of Carrie. I actually didn’t realize that George Romero initially wanted to adapt The Stand, but due to budget constraints and the lengthy book, it was never adapted to the big screen, yet has had 2 television miniseries adaptations. Similarly, there have been about 10 films adapted in various forms from Night Shift, although there are nearly that many sequels to Children of the Corn. This chapter examined the variability in adapting King’s work for the screen, especially as King has often not been involved in the screenwriting process for many of these films. He infamously ended up directing Maximum Overdrive based on the Night Shift story “Trucks”. I remember loving Maximum Overdrive when I was like 10, and reading about the production of the film made me want to watch it again. The section on this book also made me want to check out some of the lesser-known adaptations from the 90s like The Mangler and Sometimes They Come Back. This book also has one of the most recent King adaptations, The Long Walk, which was first published under King’s pseudonym, Richard Bachman. In fact, the Bachman books are also included in this collection—even Rage, which has been taken out of print. Astic and Lafond have left no Castle Rock unturned in their examination and exploration of King’s work.

While I enjoyed this massive 650 page book, I think it would work better as a physical book. I am grateful to Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers and NetGalley for sharing an advanced digital copy of this wonderful book with me, but as other reviewers have mentioned, the digital formatting was not ideal for a book like this. I think the various photos, promotional materials, and other King ephemera would be better enjoyed in clear photos in a physical copy of the book. The scanned images were a little blurry, and whether it was the scanning or formatting of the digital files, the smaller type of the pages were harder to read than other digital books. Nevertheless, this book has proven to be one of the Needful Things for King’s number one fans. I’ll be on the lookout (or maybe the Overlook) for a physical copy at my local bookstore, allowing me to get lost in King’s mythical and malevolent worlds, whether it’s the sewars of Derry or the dome of Chester’s Mill. This is an amazing reference for King’s world. Highly recommended!  

Examining the Horrors of Social Media and Artificial Intelligence in Incarnate by Alma Katsu

Incarnate by Alma Katsu

Incarnate book cover

Author Alma Katsu

Alma Katsu’s Incarnate is a fascinating and thrilling update to the gothic horror classic The Portrait of Dorian Gray. I’d actually argue that Katsu’s Incarnate is a more adventurous and relevant story that not only examines the age-old desire for beauty and youth, but rather frames these themes in our world that, as Katsu explains in her afterward, “can…not tell the difference between real and fake, it would seem much of the population no longer cares.” Her main character, Dorothy, is a complicated woman whose own trauma and bullying pushed her to the fringes of society and uses social media more as a lurker than someone truly engaged in making meaningful connections, even if they are virtual. An opportunity to work a video creator, Tomas Delgado, allows Dorothy to gain entry level access to cutting edge technology in social media before she graduates college. Katsu’s characterization of Dorothy allows us to both empathize with her and root for her as she seems to obtain a dream internship working with one of the hottest video producers, even if it requires leaving school early and moving to LA on her own away from her family in NJ. As Dorothy develops strong work ethic, spending many nights at the studio perfecting video effects for her favorite signer, Catrina Villeneuve, she’s able to demonstrate her technological prowess to Tomas, proving that she’s a capable and talented member of Tomas’s developing team, even if it sets up rivalries between other members of Tomas’s team. However, Dorothy’s late nights aren’t all spent on Tomas’s projects. She’s also been developing her own avatar, Isabella, who she decides to create social media accounts for. Despite being a digital creation that was developed through her work with the singer Catrina Villeneuve, people can’t (or aren’t willing to) recognize that Isabella is not real. In fact, Isabella’s girl-next-door looks and emptiness seem to appeal to a broad swath of social media users, and she eventually becomes a phenomenon. Maybe because there’s this air of mystery about her, but people want to know more about this woman and where she came from. Even Tomas and others in the studio have questions about Isabella, but because Dorothy used Catrina’s images and videos and Tomas’s equipment and property to create this viral sensation, she’s not willing to disclose her origins. In fact, she secretly seems to revel in the comments, attention and notifications she’s receiving as Isabella since this was never something she experienced as Dorothy. Dorothy also begins to receive strange messages that seemingly offer her a chance to have Isabella become more and more popular, dominating the digital realm. However, as Dorothy eventually learns, these kinds of deals with “trolls” often come with some compensation. Even though she doesn’t sign and contract and her agreement is through messaging, Dorothy’s troll extracts quite the toll, even if the cost doesn’t immediately reach Dorothy.

Before becoming a novelist, Katsu worked in the world of intelligence, becoming one of the first social media researchers, often trying to learn more about how social media impacted behaviors, beliefs, and the flow of information. Similarly, Incarnate takes readers behind the scenes to learn more about how social media and our willingness to accept whatever we see can boost profiles, whether they are real or not. In her afterword, Katsu also shares a thought about social media that I’ve been thinking about ever since I finished the book: “Here’s the last lesson of tech forecasting: Every technology has two sides, and those two sides are not Good and Bad. They’re Offensive and Defensive. You can use a new technology to improve your lot in life or to further your goals, but you can also use it to take down your enemies, to obfuscate or deceive.” It’s a powerful lesson that the technology isn’t really good or bad, but rather it’s how we decide to use it. While Dorothy initially uses it to attain the kind of popularity and attention that evaded her (or she shunned) IRL, we see how she learns to use social media as not just a tool, but also a weapon. At one point, Isabella is invited to a weekend getaway with other influencers who remind her to act as if there’s always a camera filming her; although she forgets this reminder, she learns how others may use social media to take down competitors. In fact, we begin to see how Isabella and Dorothy both change from desiring attention and likes to feeling threatened and cornered by competition. In many ways, Dorothy reminded me of Maris from Katsu’s last novel Fiend, where we see someone who is bound by her status, yet finds ways to manipulate and maneuver, often with some supernatural help, and advance in a world that previously denied them status. Alma Katsu’s Incarnate is an exciting, page-turning ride where I felt my emotions swaying from sympathy to disgust and dismay. I really appreciated the complexity of Dorothy and the transformation that occurs with her as she gains more status and visibility through Isabella. Some of the other characters, especially the other influencers, were a little more underdeveloped, and I would have liked to learn more about them. I also loved the mention of a character named Graham Jones, a “British technocrat bankrolling Tomas’s studio,” and wished there was more about this aptly named individually. Some of the plot points, which I won’t give away to spoil the ending, move rather rapidly towards the latter half of the book. Nevertheless, Katsu’s writing kept my attention and kept me turning pages. Incarnate is a fascinating book, and a great way to use horror to examine the implications of social media and artificial intelligence, especially our willingness to accept whatever we see online as real. Highly recommended! Many thanks to Putnam and NetGalley for sharing an advance copy of this wonderful book!

 

Necessary Reading for Today: End Times Fascism by Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor

 End Times Fascism: And the Fight for the Living World by Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor

End Times Fascism book cover

Author and journalist Naomi Klein

Author and filmmaker Astra Taylor

In their new book End Times Fascism: And the Fight fort he Living World, Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor provide an important observation from Joyce Carol Oates about Elon Musk, where she questioned his lack of enjoyment or celebration on social media. Where other tech moguls like Mark Zuckerberg have proclaimed social media’s ability to bring us together, Oates observes how other social media platforms have devolved into a space for harboring grievances and complaints. It’s a fitting observation that Klein and Taylor lean into to raise questions about how these wealthy elites with seemingly more resources than some countries and many people can find so much of the world problematic that many of them seek to develop charter cities or autonomous zones of exclusivity or even isolated bunkers that will allow them to disengage and shield themselves from the rest of the world. End Times Fascism explores the hard shift in the tech industry from progressive ideas and thoughts towards fascism and dictatorships to how they have exploited millennialism and apocalyptic thinking and partnered with other fascistic political movements in America and around the world in order to demonstrate their need for exclusivity and shelter. After reading Gil Durán’s excellent new book The Nerd Reich, which also details the fascistic shift in Silicon Valley and its determination to accelerated the collapse of society to form their own autonomous enclaves and feudal systems, End Times Fascism provides a complementary if not a broader view in how 21^st century fascism and its links to technology and apocalyptic thinking are different from the 20^th century fascism that we’re often warned about and keep vigilant eyes in order to prevent its resurrection. These books are not only timely and relevant, but also necessary in helping to make meaning and understand the motivations of the individuals and groups who not only hold much of the world’s wealth but also are able to leverage that wealth to change the world, often to benefit themselves.

An important lesson Klein and Taylor explain at the beginning of their book is how this modern version of fascism differs from earlier iterations, examining its evolution as “humanity has entered an era of unprecedented, global-scale existential crises.” While in the past, we might trust our leaders in industries and governments to mount challenges to these crises, but today’s approach is much different and more self-serving. Furthermore, Klein and Taylor explore how this approach to accelerating the end and the apocalyptic thinking limits resources for others while allowing the world to burn. That is, with the end of the world fast approaching, there’s no need to help others out, but rather only to prepare for its imminent demise. This book not only highlights the apocalyptic thinking of Silicon Valley, but also their symbiosis with the conservative, right-wing political world to wrest more control and dominion over society.  

End Times Fascism is organized into 4 different sections that examine the history of fascism and millenarianism in the 20^th century and how it has led to an increasing belief in end times and the hypervigilance of these end times symbols. While it is still a little unsettling to see how many people are increasingly banking on the end of the world being near, Klein and Taylor’s book is also a reminder about how often this kind of thinking and belief system arises during manufactured crises and unprecedented events. In Chris Jennings’s End Times, he explores the Ruby Ridge standoff and tragedy, and how it arose from the millenarianism that permeated the Christian nationalism of the 70s and 80s, and how Hal Lindsey’s book The Late Great Planet Earth was among the best-selling books of the 1970s. Even though this kind of thinking isn’t novel, the apocalyptic thinking and hastening the end of the world remain a popular belief system for some groups of people. The second section details how Silicon Valley is working to hasten the end times and how AI and data centers in particular are proving to be part of the accelerant that is hastening the end for some communities. While there has rightly been considerable pushback against data centers in communities, it was shocking to read about Musk’s Colossus, a massive data center in Memphis. Named after a 1960s sci-fi movie computer, Klein and Taylor document Musk’s late-to-the game approach to AI, and how this facilitated his hasty and dangerous construction of basically a private powerplant to fuel his AI, which the authors also note has a reputation for generating racist and misogynistic content. As Duran’s book noted, many of the Silicon Valley’s companies are named after sci-fi and fantasy book characters, yet these CEOs and leaders often misread or omit the warnings and ironies in these characters, and it seems like Musk missed the irony of naming his vast AI data center after a murderous robot- man-made technology run amok and seeking to end humanity. It was shocking to learn about Musk’s secret deal with the Memphis city council that allowed him to unleash pollutants, toxic chemicals, and waste in neighborhoods that have often been the site of other economic and environmental injustices. Although there’s been more and more pushback regarding data centers recently, Klein and Taylor’s reporting helps to further emphasize the environmental and human toll that our use of AI has on communities and individuals. This book raises important awareness of these issues and frames the damage done to communities in a way that identifies its toll on individuals and families, making this an important read. It’s also one of the many travesties and atrocities that are perpetrated around the world in the name of technological progress and efficiency. While we may think our lives are improving, Klein and Taylor remind us of those voices and victims who are often stifled, maligned, or silenced by the powerful and affluent.

Although Klein and Taylor focus on the institutional, racial, economic, and political violence that has become more prominent with the rise of 21^st century fascism, their book also offers signs of hope through resistance. Although they report on Musk’s data center and the damage it has inflicted on the Boxtown neighborhood of Memphis, Klein and Taylor also highlight group and individuals like Keshaun Pearson who helped organize the Memphis Communist Against Pollution, which has collaborated with other organizations to fight the encroaching environmental pollution from these data centers. They also spend time discussing how communities and groups in Minneapolis supported neighbors and immigrants when DHS invaded its neighborhoods and murdered two citizens. For all the attempts to malign these victims and paint them as radical terrorists, Klein and Taylor highlight the kind of supportive communities and neighbors who put themselves as risk for the care and good of one another. It’s an important reminder of the connections that help to sustain us during these wild, violent times. It’s also an important reminder of the kinds of dichotomies and sides that are set up as our society continues to break apart due to polarization. We can choose the side of exclusivity, of rejection, of violence and condescension, or we can choose to be part of a broader collective, working to protect others against harm. While Klein and Taylor don’t necessarily frame their arguments in this way, they do end their book with a reminder of the doomsday clock, and how both the UN and Bulletin of Atomic Scientists raised concerns about the destructive powers of nuclear technology. Both organizations arose from the wreckage of World War II, seeking to prevent further wars and the use of destructive technology. While Klein and Taylor acknowledge the limitations of the UN and the frequent failures to recognize the destructive power of nuclear technology, they present important warnings and reminders of what lies ahead if we continue down this apocalyptic path while indiscriminately using technology without thinking. Klein and Taylor report on many of the interconnected fascist factions not only in the US but around the world, and although breadth of this coverage can feel daunting, it’s also important to recognize their coverage of the communities of resistance that have risen to challenge the encroachments on our rights. My thanks to Farrar, Straus, and Giroux and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of this book. Highly recommended!

Unexplained Events and Eerie Tales from MrBallen Presents: The Terror Within

 MrBallen Presents: The Terror Within: The Graphic Stories by MrBallen with artwork by Andrea Mutti

MrBallen Presents: The Terror Within cover

Podcaster MrBallen

Artist Andrea Mutti

Many thanks to Clarkson Potter/Ten Speed Press and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of MrBallen Presents: The Terror Within: The Graphic Stories. MrBallen, a popular true crime podcaster and influencer, has collected some of his favorite, most haunting unexplained mysteries and commissioned his creative team to retell these chilling stories in graphic novel form. Although MrBallen has selected the tales for this anthology, he acknowledges the team including his sister, Evan Allen, who writes and edits, along with co-selecting the stories, and Robert Venditti, who revises the podcast scripts into graphic novel formats, as integral to the creation of this collection. In addition, Andrea Mutti contributes through his excellent artwork to capture some of the terrifying and uncanny elements of these stories.

The stories in this collection take place around the world and through different times in the 19^th and 20th centuries. Some of the stories, like the Dyatlov Pass Incident (“Dead Mountain”) and the Magdelena Solis story (“The Cave”) may be familiar, if not infamous, for some readers. Other stories like “The Red Ghost”, “Ape Canyon”, and “Her Face” were familiar to me, but had elements of the uncanny, the unexplained, or happenstance that created ironic twists that helped intrigue me with its events. I appreciated how this collection provides a map and locations for each of the events to indicate where these stories took place. Although not all of the stories were included in this sample, it provided me with enough to pique my interest in these tales of the unexplained. Like MrBallen, I’m also a fan of these kinds of mysteries and unexplained phenomena. MrBallen provides brief commentary at the beginning and end of each story, and most of the stories are told through his 3^rd person narration that observes and describes what happens to those involved in the story. He provides some explanations about the events at the end of some of the stories, but others like “Dead Mountain” and “Ape Canyon” remain somewhat unresolved and mysterious, leaving readers wanting to know more about what exactly happened and what the possible explanations are for these events. Others like “The Cave” and “The Red Ghost” have mostly rational explanations for the events that occurred or at least have some kind of resolution where justice was served. Nevertheless, “The Red Ghost” was particularly haunting and strange as we are never really given an explanation as to why the red ghost initially appeared or what exactly happened to Elizabeth. It was a strange and perplexing tale that’s left me wanting to know more. Thankfully, the team working with MrBallen provides a useful further reading list at the end of the collection to learn more about each of these events.

This was a fun, quick read that has some intriguing investigative tales. The simple narration and commentary in each of the panels helps to focus on the mysterious nature of these events, and pairs well with Mutti’s stark, evocative illustrations and artwork, creating a creepy and uncanny atmosphere, great for the Halloween season. I was also excited to learn that there are other MrBallen graphic novels available that detail other mysteries and unexplained events, so I’ll look forward to checking those out. Recommended!

The Spine of the Land a Truly Graphic Novel

 The Spine of the Land by Jason Krawcyzk with artwork by A. Shay Hahn

The Spine of the Land cover

Author Jason Krawcyzk

Many thank to Dead Sky Publishing and NetGalley for allowing me to preview The Spine of the Land, a historical hicksploitation graphic novel by Jason Krawcyzk with artwork by A. Shay Hahn. I was drawn to this graphic novel by the amazing cover art by Andrew Barr, which shows some kind of giant monster man feasting on flesh above a group of masked men roving among a hill of skulls. The description of the novel as “3:10 to Yuma meets Texas Chainsaw Massacre” also grabbed my attention since it seemed like such an odd pairing. The story is simple and escalates quickly but takes some unexpected pivots and twists along the way. Louisiana is expanding the railroad line through the state, but the project encounters a frightening roadblock: a band of cannibals in the undeveloped backwoods of Louisiana, delaying the project and costing the railroad companies and the state money. The forces attempting to protect the workers have captured one of the cannibals in a bear trap and want to bring him back to his home settlement. However, the governor wants to also offer the cannibals money to move out of the railroad’s way and allow construction on the line to continue. The governor and others involved with the railroad’s construction hire a kindly sheriff along with a crew of other outcasts to escort the cannibal, in a cage, through the backwoods and bayous of Louisiana. Without giving too much away, the story takes some surprising turns as the crew realizes that this might not have been the mission they initially signed up for. This is a quick read, that moves along propulsively as the mission begins and the group of ragtag lawmen move throughout the creepy and ominous backwoods of Louisiana. I really enjoyed the story, as it offers an interesting historical take on the kind of hicksploitation films from the 70s and 80s that can be so disturbing. While the description references Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I was also thinking a little bit about Bone Tomahawk when I read this, as there are some brutal kills throughout this story as the marauding mass of man-eaters attempt to defend their home against encroaching eminent domain. Regardless, any horror fan will get their fill of brutal blood and guts with this edition that really puts the graphic in graphic novel. Recommended!

Examining Linguicide and Revival in How to Kill a Language

 How to Kill a Language: Power, Resistance, and the Race to Save Our Words by Sophia Smith Galer

How to Kill a Language book cover

Author and journalist Sophia Smith Galer

Many thanks to Crown Publishing and NetGalley for the advanced copy of How to Kill a Language: Power, Resistance, and the Race to Save Our Words by Sophia Smith Galer. While the book’s title reference the precarious nature of many languages throughout the world, Smith Galer’s work focuses more on the efforts to save and reclaim these languages, and the many individuals and grassroots organizations working to recruit speakers, teach and raise awareness of these languages, and to promote the language in areas where it remains a minority to other dominant languages. A few years ago, I read a great book by Ross Perlin titled Language City: The Fight to Preserve Endangered Mother Tongues in New York. Perlin, who is a linguist from NY, chronicled his efforts to work with others to preserve the speakers and written language of many of the world’s most endangered languages in NYC. Sophia Smith Galer, who is a multi-lingual journalist, details a similar effort to explore and chronicle the efforts to save endangered languages, or those she deems as threatened with linguicide, which often results from the policies and efforts of a state toward a minority language. Although Perlin’s efforts explore the many reasons why NYC is home to and in some ways furthers the endangerment of these minority languages, Smith Galer takes readers on journeys throughout the world to learn more about the places, policies, and history that have all worked to silence many of these indigenous languages and dialects, which makes How to Kill a Language not only a fascinating study of the history and cultures of these languages and their speakers, but also something of a travel book that often details the geographic features and regions that also help to shape and sometimes isolate many of these languages, making them distinct from dominant languages like English, Arabic, French, or Spanish.

Smith Galer starts her exploration of these languages and regions close to home, which is London. It may seem odd to start a story about linguicide where English is the dominant language and where many of the colonial experiments to eradicate native languages in far-away and close to home colonies originated, but her personal connection to an endangered language starts with her grandmother, or her Nonna, who spoke dialët, a language she describes as an “angry French, with some strong nasal twangs and words that end abruptly, not like Italian with its ever-flowing vowel sounds.” Geographically and nationally, Nonna was from Italy but from a mountainous region that was isolated from the more dominant Florentine Italian that became the standard for spoken Italian in the 19^th century as Italy began to unify. The differences between dialët and Italian, as well as her Nonna’s age and decreasing health prompted her to question how many dialët speakers were left, and how she could work to preserve the language.

Smith Galer’s questions and interest in preserving dialët then prompted her to further study Italian, to learn how the various regions, which all have distinct pronunciations and some entirely distinct languages like dialët, eventually settled on the Florentine Tuscan dialect as the standard. This first chapter is a fascinating framework to explore how countries and populations with power can promote their chosen language or dialect as the standard, which can bring about unity in communication, commerce, and education, but it can also push language minorities to the fringes of society, especially when a sense of privilege, politics, or promotion is assigned to the dominant language. As Smith Galer’s observations with other languages demonstrate, frequently younger generations educated in the dominant language will be less likely to speak their native language and may even view the language with a sense of shame or embarrassment. These languages then either remain around smaller, isolated regions or are only spoken at home or in secret in some cases when there are consequences to speaking or writing in the language (like the chapters on Karuk and Kurdish explore). Each subsequent chapter explores how different policies, histories, events, and movement have impacted specific languages. I loved learning about the different cultures and languages throughout the book. Each chapter serves as a kind of case study for how countries and historical events influence the linguicide- the decline of these indigenous languages. However, the Smith Galer doesn’t necessarily dwell on the demise of these languages, but also chronicles individuals, groups, and organizations who are working to keep the language alive, whether it is through online community and advocacy, translations, subversion and resistance, or education and work with younger generations of speakers. There are so many incredible stories found throughout this book that complement the well-researched historical, political, and social elements that influenced how these languages were often relegated to lesser spaces in these nations. Furthermore, Smith Galer effectively describes linguistic elements of the language, making familiar references where possible or clearly defining the spoken, written, and communicative aspects of these languages for non-technical or linguistic oriented audiences. The chapters focus on Śhert, which I’m struggling to write accurately in word, an Arabian language spoken in regions in Oman; Ukrainian and its resistance to the Russianization of its language in Ukraine; Ladino, a fascinating Spanish derived language spoken by Sephardic Jews who were expelled from Spain after the Reconquista and ended up in Greece and Turkey, adapting the elements of these languages and some others; Karuk, an indigenous Californians from the Klamath area. While all of the stories featured upsetting stories of colonialism and conquest that led to the loss of language, Smith Galer details how many of the tribal Karuk were sent to notorious Indian schools in the 19^th and early 20^th centuries where speaking their native languages was often physically punished, creating a sense of fear and shame among the speakers that nearly wiped out the language and traditions of the Karuk people. Yet stories like the Karuk also feature dedicated community members like Julian Lang who helped to start a Master-Apprentice language program that created time, space, and lessons for older and younger speakers to meet in order to continue passing on the language to the next generations. It’s a fascinating look into the kind of grassroots efforts that are maintaining these languages for future generations, but as Smith Galer notes in her conclusion, the work of these dedicated individuals and groups may not be enough to sustain these languages without future policies and resources like government funding (the Karuk program receives funding through California). The book also explores Kurdish and the efforts of countries like Iran and Turkey to criminalize and punish Kurdish speakers. I also liked learning about Kichwa, an indigenous language from Ecuador as well as Peru. This was also a fascinating way to see how community members work to include language instruction and ensure future generations are speaking these indigenous languages, even recruiting pregnant mothers and encouraging them to speak to their unborn children. Interestingly, there’s a chapter on the kind of revival that Hebrew experienced with zionism, and how the demand for Hebrew only speaking in Israel has created further tension with speakers of other languages. It’s also a fascinating look at how a language that was deemed for religious purposes only became the lingua franca of a country. The last chapter was equally fascinating as it detailed Dagbani, a language from Ghana, a country that has nearly 80 distinct languages, but uses English as the official language. This chapter was also fascinating to learn more about how a country with so many different languages can often ignore these indigenous languages and fail to support them when their focus is on STEM studies or arts related to languages like French or English.  Smith Galer returns to dialët, and visits the region her Nonna was from to learn more about where and how this language that shares more qualities with French than Italian originated. This chapter offered some further insight into how regions and geography can lead to language development and variations, and how practices like education and policies can impact the further speaking of these languages.

How to Kill a Language is a fascinating and insightful book, where readers are able to learn not only about these different languages but how countries and governments can impose policies, education, and other measures that can bring about the demise of languages. Nevertheless, the book also offers hope in detailing the efforts of groups and individuals who are working to maintain and transmit these languages to future generations. If you enjoy learning about different cultures, languages, histories, or regions of the world, this book will be a great read. Recommended! 

Converging Counterpoints into Harmony: Music Against the Night by Yiyun Li

 Music Against the Night by Yiyun Li

Music Against the Night book cover

Author Yiyun Li

Many thanks to Farrar, Straus and Giroux and NetGalley for sending me an advanced copy of Yiyun Li’s exquisite new book Music Against the Night. Li, among the most gifted and lauded novelists and short story writers today, doesn’t just craft a compelling world of two artists learning the vocabulary and instrumentation of their art, but rather orchestrates a world where these two characters’ stories converge after their exiles and journeys from modest, if not precocious, beginnings. Luckily, readers are able to inhabit this world that Li composes much like they were immersed in a symphony hall, beset by the emotional timbres of the various sections, eliciting a range of emotions as John Field and Adelaide Percheron struggle against social, financial, and imposed expectations, using music as their lingua franca.

I wasn’t familiar with John Field, who was a real Irish composer, credited with creating the nocturne, although Chopin is more recognized for this style of composition. Field was born in Dublin, and due to his musical family, was touted as a prodigy, with his father and grandfather hoping that he would become the next Mozart. As a result, the family moved to England to further his musical development, recognizing that common theme about escape and exile from Ireland, and seeking artistic growth and development in England and the continent. The first part of the book, which consists of four alternating sections that examine the early lives of John and Adelaide, focuses on John’s life and the undue expectations of being a child prodigy. These were some of the most sensitive and touching moments in the book, where we encounter John as a child, who struggles against the memories of an older brother, also named John, who didn’t survive infancy. In fact, we learn as much about John’s family dynamics and the high infant mortality rates of 18^th century Ireland, discovering how these dead siblings remain a part of the family, like a broken chord pattern sustaining the melancholic, rhythmic foundation of a nocturne. One of my favorite parts of this section is when John discovers the hidden music in objects, finding that crosses in a nearby cemetery evoke a music only he can hear. He finds similar inspiration in the soot-o-sweep songs that young chimney sweepers in Dublin cry to advertise their work, listening above the city’s din as their cries gradually recede into a “weep”, possibly a reference to Blake’s “Chimney Sweeper” poem. I loved the way Li has Field find inspiration among his daily Dublin life, finding meaning and emotion in everyday occurrences. It made me wonder whether Li also experiences as a similar feeling of seeing the extraordinary in the everyday, but it’s also a reminder in how we may often overlook what is sublime and pleasurable in what others neglect to notice.

The sections of the book alternate between John’s journey from Dublin to England and Adelaide Percheron’s challenges growing up as an orphan under her shrewd grandmother’s care in Pondicherry, a coastal city in southern India under French colonial rule. Just as we learn about John Field’s family’s tragedies, we also learn about the tragedies of Adelaide’s mother, who also seemed to be haunted by a lost child like John’s mother. However, Adelaide, who eventually acquires the nickname Percherette, was descended from a grandmother whose “tangled web of Portuguese, Dutch, Arab and Tamil” seemed to mark Percherette as neither French nor Indian, leaving her identity and future somewhat ambiguous and predetermined. “Adelaide was often reminded by her aunts and the ayahs that she was not French but a mixed-blooded girl. Her hair was course and unruly, her eyes neither blue like a French girl’s nor dark and deep like her cousin’, but a blend of brown and green, dirty and lusterless.” Although she Percherette grows up to inhabit and use her ambiguity to redefine herself, eventually moving to Paris, she sees others attempts to label and limit her opportunities in Pondicherry as a kind of death or paralysis, where escape is the only option. Her grandmother, Leonora, also sees something in Percherette that is different, whether it is her intelligence or appearance, that prompts Leonora to devote more attention and special conversations to Percherette. While Leonora has meeting times with all the grandchildren under her care, it seems that her time with Percherette is more instructional, devoted to lessons in communication, expressions, and finding ways to extract information or concessions from others. Like John managing the burdens of expectations that come with being labeled a prodigy, Percherette is battling with the consequences of low expectations as a woman and someone who is not fully European. I enjoyed these sections as well, as they provide a kind of counterpoint in the novel to John’s experience, where we see how despite the difference in expectations, we recognize the unfair burdens often foisted on children that can impact their futures in ways we may not intend. Despite the differences, Li’s development of the characters and world building for Pondicherry establishes a harmonic relationship between Percherette and John, where they both escape their seemingly provincial backgrounds for greater expectations.

Parts three and four both focus on John and Percherette as they journey to England and Paris respectively and develop new friendships and tutelage that leave them with indelible experiences. John eventually ends up studying with Muzio Clementi in England, while Percherette ends up on a ship bound for France with colleagues of her father, despite the disapproval of Leonora. Again, the characters act as a counterpoint, with John devoting himself to his studies with Clementi and Percherette defying the standards and expectations to gain escape to the excitement of Paris. Clementi, who like John and Adelaide, was a real person, was one of my favorite characters in the book. I knew of him from my kids’ piano studies, along with Carl Czerny, who also appears in the book as almost the antithesis of Clementi. Both Clementi and Czerny were musicians and educators, but where Clementi comes across as an innovative and enterprising musician, recognizing the importance of developing both a name and a persona, Czerny seems to have established more of a mechanical, soulless production line of etudes, which my kids can attest are truly the bane of piano studies. John visits Czerny in a later incident when he is seeking some respite after being away from Russia. I wasn’t sure if anything in Li’s own piano studies, which she describes in her recent book Things in Nature Merely Grow, helped her characterize these two different noted piano educators. While I found it humorous in some ways, Clementi is the one character who truly nurtures the brilliance and talent in John, enabling him to not only become a skilled and notable performer at a young age, but also to develop the compositional skills that allowed him to establish nocturnes. These later chapters also detail the time away from their homes and families, and how John and Percherette establish new companionships, John with the composer George Pinto and Percherette with a girl named Fortunée. The similarities and differences in their experiences further the counterpoints of love and loss that motivate and haunt John and Percherette.

While I haven’t read everything by Yiyun Li, the novels that I’ve read are an immersive experience where I feel fully attuned to the worlds she’s composed. Whether it’s the cold, harsh world of The Vagrants that evoked chill and isolation of a small village in Cultural Revolution era China or the complicated intensity of childhood friendships in The Book of Goose, Li composes powerful narratives that function as counterpoints, harmonizing two emotionally complex stories to creative a cohesive relationship that is established with the prelude or coda, announcing John’s death to his estranged wife Percherette. Like Agnès in Book of Goose, we see how expectations and precociousness can have a conflicting impact on one’s development. John, who is encouraged to lie about his age and whose grandfather co-authors his earliest musical compositions with him, reminded me a lot of the challenges that Agnès experienced in becoming a published writer and having more opportunities. Similarly, we see how the complicated and intense relationships we have as children, like Agnès and Fabienne, John and George, and Percherette and Fortunée. I also thought about the nature of identity throughout this book, as both John and Percherette have their identities shaped largely by others when they are younger, choosing their names and ages, while also seeking out opportunities and futures for them, much like Mrs. Townsend is for Agnès, as more of a dictator seeking to impose an identity on her rather than allowing her identity to develop and emerge naturally. I felt like both John and Percherette deal with the burden of expectations, both great and limited, in how others perceive them. However, it’s Li’s writing, all aspects of her writing, that made this book so immersive and evocative, like the cross’s that call out to John and inspire him to hear what others cannot. It’s a sadness, but also the recognition of the beauty in the everyday experiences and observations, especially those that others may fail to notice. Furthermore, Music Against the Night also has a throwback feel to it in that it feels like a classic novel from Dickens or Dostoyevsky, filled with ancillary family members and characters (and lots of wonderful parenthetical asides that provide further insight into these often historical figures). I was initially upset that the book ended, wanting more from John and Percherette’s relationship, but then I realized that Music Against the Night is only the first part in a trilogy, so I’m hopeful that the next two parts will help explain how John ended up in Russia, tutoring Tolstoy’s mother in piano, and how he and Percherette progressed in their relationship from piano student and teacher to lovers, spouses, and then estranged. We get some information from the interludes between the alternating parts of the novel, but I’m anticipating more to the story of John and Percherette.

Yiyun Li mentioned that it was through reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace that she first learned about John Field, and Music Against the Night is an ambitious and immersive look into the world of his development as a forgotten innovator in music. We also learn about the artistic development of his wife, a woman who was able to compose and play the pianoforte without any formal musical training. Music Against the Night also explores the theme of escape and exile, and how these can often be necessary for further artistic development or even survival. Music Against the Night is a wonderful read that I couldn’t put down, wanting to continue to learn more about how John and Percherette ended up together and estranged. I’m eagerly anticipating the next movements in this trilogy, yet this is a book that I could see rereading to find other melodies that emerge from Li’s exquisite prose. Highly recommended!