Mysterious Creatures: The Truth Behind the Legends by Alderton and Heart

 Mysterious Creatures: The Truth Behind the Legends by David Alderton and Akara Heart

Mysterious Creatures book cover

Author David Alderton

Author Akara Heart

Big thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of David Alderton and Akara Heart’s Mysterious Creatures: The Truth Behind the Legends, a great new compendium that investigates mysterious and legendary creatures like Bigfoot, vampires, werewolves, unicorns, and dragons. I love books like these that provide an overview of legends, myths, and other mysteries of the unknown, and have been reading these kinds of collections since I was younger. There’s been some recent great books that focus more on cryptids and urban legends (The United States of Cryptids by Ocker, Fairylore by Wallman and Cleto, and Tales of the Dark Feminine by V. Castro), and I love that so many of these books go beyond mere definitional entries in a kind of brief encyclopedia. While my younger self would have enjoyed Mysterious Creatures, it is a book that engages the wonders and mystery of these legendary creatures, but also presents some evenhanded investigations and science into working to find a rational explanation for these creatures and legends. It’s not quite a book I could recommend for children, but it remains a fascinating and entreating read that I could not put down.

Alderton and Heart have done considerable research to not only investigate the origins and incidents involving many of these legendary creatures, but also to provide some plausible explanations and ideas as to why or how these legends have entered our belief systems and why they have persisted for so long. Many of the legends appear throughout history and cut across different cultures. For example, the unicorn may have first appeared in ancient Babylonian times as a seal for official documents, yet over time the idea of the unicorn has transformed from a fierce, yet elusive beast with magical powers, to something more delicate and unique. Alderton and Heart trace the ways in which this legendary creature has changed to mean different things to various cultures and time periods, as well as how many people in the middle ages profited off of the supposed powers of unicorn horns by selling ground up powders to unwitting customers. Similarly, we learn how mermaids have been a part of legends and myths since people began sailing, yet the idea of a siren has changed over time. Nevertheless, scammers took advantage of the willingness to believe and the lack of skepticism (or education or information at the time) to make some money with well-crafted hoaxes, most notably the Feejee (or Fiji) mermaid. I was shocked to learn how much someone paid for what was ostensibly a monkey carcass sewed to a fish tail. Nevertheless, I loved learning about the mythical origins of these creatures, and how they have appeared in stories, legends and literature, eventually making their way to books and films, and becoming somewhat iconic and meaningful symbols of for different cultures and generations. These chapters explore the history, but tend to focus in on some of the more iconic or important stories that helped to propel these myths to the mainstream and explain how they eventually have shaped our current beliefs and ideas about these creatures. My favorite chapters were about vampires and werewolves and dogmen. I loved learning more about the history of these creatures and finding out about some strange cases and the possible medical or mental health reasons behind these phenomena. The last two chapters on Sasquatch and Thunderbirds (or giant birds) were interesting; however, I wish there was more about the indigenous beliefs about these creatures. The authors mention some ideas, but don’t get too in depth about the cultural myths and stories related to them. Nevertheless, they provide some interesting modern instances of Bigfoot and giant bird sightings in the US, and provide some compelling and rational suggestions about what these creatures could possibly be. The other chapters on dragons and phoenixes were also interesting, especially since both chapters explored cross cultural beliefs and examined the cultural significance and differences of both creatures in European and Asian (China, Korea, Japan).

I really enjoyed this book, and it’s one that I would definitely recommend, not only because it’s so informative, but I also loved the way that the authors present some plausible suggestions to explain how and why the belief in these creatures has persisted for centuries, and how they have often become culturally significant for different groups of people over the course of history. While not a book for younger kids, I think this book offers a great introduction to exploring skepticism and formulating counter-arguments to provide reasonable explanations. While I always want to believe in these mythical and mysterious creatures, I think it’s important to learn these kinds of skeptical skills and to examine more scientific explanations, especially as we find more and more technology being deployed to advance more complex hoaxes and ideas. While we have access to more and more information and education than previous generations, it still doesn’t prevent people from trying to exploit our willingness to be amazed and our desire to believe in the unexplained. Alderton and Heart’s book allows us to explore and question, but also offers us important lessons in looking for more reasonable and logical explanations. My only wish is that they included more images throughout the book—whether they are illustrations or other examples of these creatures throughout history and different cultures. Nevertheless, this is a book I highly recommend!

The Battle of Little Bighorn retold in Tom Clavin's Vengeance

 Vengeance: The Last Stands of Custer, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull by Tom Clavin

Vengeance book cover

Author Tom Clavin

A corrupt government is populated with friends and relations of the president who seem to plunder and take advantage of lax oversight in the bureaucracy. The government displays animosity and weaponizes the military towards a disempowered minority, attempting to silence critics and minority factions that resist attempts at command and control. American society has been torn apart by serious issues of race, identity, and the economy, while politicians and people grapple with the future direction of the country.

Although these events seem like they may be ripped from today’s salacious headlines, it’s really a summary of some of the events that gripped America nearly 150 years ago 1876, as America grappled with westward expansion and removing the indigenous plains Indians from their roaming ways and proposing a more farmer like existence for these nomadic people. Tom Clavin’s excellent new book, Vengeance: The Last Stands of Custer, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull, captures much of the turmoil and resentment that festered between the government and the Plains Indians, resulting in one of the most stunning military defeats in American history.

I’m generally fascinated by this time period, and have read some other books about Indigenous People, but Clavin’s book was one of the more compelling and engaging books I’ve read about the frontier expansion. Maybe because he focuses on three of the primary characters in the Battle of Little Bighorn, Clavin is able to create a story where three distinct individuals collide in a violent fashion in this epic battle of the plains when America was still expanding its western territory, frequently making and breaking treaties. Clavin acknowledges that he’s not the first to write about this battle, and some of the other authors who he references throughout the book have wrote distinct and significant books outlining and analyzing the factors leading up to the battle and its aftermath. However, Clavin likens the story to a myth, where we recount the deeds of epic heroes, seeming to result in tragedy, whether through hubris or ignorance, and learn something new every time we recount the story. Thus, his contributions to this epic battle frame the battle by following the paths of Custer, Sitting Bull, and Crazy Horse, and how they all ended up converging in June 1876 on this field in the territory that would become Montana.

I loved how Clavin organizes the chapters to focus on each individual, and he keeps them brief, which kept me reading. The book is organized into 6 parts- The Invaders, The Defenders, The Expeditions, The Searchers, The Avengers, and the Last Stands. Each section focuses on events leading up to the battle, and Clavin’s keen eye for details limits overwhelming readers with too much information about how the Indian Plains Wars against the Sioux especially started. Nevertheless, he provides a fair amount of information to let us know about how Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse eventually came to power, as well as how Custer, a lackluster West Point graduate, leveraged some heroics and bravado during the Civil War to eventually become a general. Through Clavin’s recounting and analysis of the events, it seems like some of Custer’s meteoric rise and bravado created a kind of arrogance that brought about his violent end. Interestingly, I learned that Crazy Horse, while exalted as a great Lakota warrior, also experienced his own downfall in claiming the wife of another man before they were officially divorced. It’s these kinds of little details that provide a broader idea of the decisions and strategies that Custer, Sitting Bull, and Crazy Horse may have implemented during other events, giving us a sense of the kind of flawed heroes that our textbooks or high school history don’t always present to us for various reasons.

Clavin not only isolates these individuals but provides some important background in the policies of the US around the time of the Civil War, and how the focus was off westward expansion, during this time. When the war ended, it seemed like there was a large army in need of work and vast lands where gold and other resources were with people looking to move out of overcrowded cities for new opportunities and adventure. This led to threats and attacks on settlers, necessitating the building of forts and protection of the US Army on certain routes, like the Oregon Trail. It was fascinating to learn more about how these events and policies boiled tensions between different plains Indian tribes and the federal government. Along with broken treaties, reduced rations, and disease and illness, readers can also learn how the plains Indians were reduced in numbers and spirit, and yet leaders and warriors like Sitting Bull and Red Cloud arose to challenge the authority of the US government and the great father in DC.

Clavin’s recap of the battle alternates between the US forces, and the divisions of Custer’s men, who split up into separate groups, which ultimately led to their demise, and the warriors who followed Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse. Clavin’s even-handed research presents much of the arrogance and mismanagement, including the drinking from Major Reno, and the friction with Captain Benteen, which also seemed to factor into the poor decisions and fractured strategy in this campaign. Although there were no survivors in Custer’s actual group, Clavin referenced other books and the Sioux and Cheyenne survivors who participated and provided accounts of what exactly happened. It presents an important recounting that challenges many of the myths and heroic portraits of Custer that were pumped out as propaganda after the battle. As Clavin notes, Custer was considered a potential presidential candidate and was set to speak in Philadelphia for the Centennial celebration about a week later. However, due to the vast distance and limited reporting at the time, people were unsure of where he was or what happened in the battle. This kind of limited access to information allowed the military and Custer’s widow, Libbie, to reshape the narrative, which ultimately painted Custer as a hero and victim, a view that persisted for many years.

The last section of the book went by quickly, and it moves from the summer of 1876 to the aftermath in the next few years, and how this led to the last stands of Crazy Horse shortly after and Sitting Bull more than a decade later. Clavin also frames this idea of the government and military continuing to seek and harass these tribes for the defeat at Little Bighorn. Sadly, it ends with the slaughter at Wounded Knee, where nearly 300 Lakota people, mostly women and children, were murdered by the military. Clavin notes like Little Bighorn, the limited information available at the time worked to the military’s advantage, allowing them to frame this as another battle like Little Bighorn, but that was ultimately prevented from major military casualties. In fact, there were several commendations and awards given. Tying these events to the present, Clavin notes that there have been recent attempts to rescind these awards and commendations, although the current administration has fought that, despite legislation that has authorized taking these awards away from the unjust murder of hundreds of Lakota women and children.

Clavin has written a compelling and important story detailing the history and facts of a inflection point in American history, one which has been mythologized and used to create a kind of narrative about American exceptionalism while denigrating the role of Indigenous people in American history, and has helped to educate and reframe the narrative. I learned a lot from this book. Furthermore, Clavin’s clear and engaging prose and his focus on the main protagonists in this tragedy, Custer, Sitting Bull, and Crazy Horse, creates a compelling story of three flawed men who converge on a hot battlefield in June of 1876. The story still resonates today, and it serves an even more important lesson in understanding the truth in history, and how events can be twisted and propagandized to either avoid accountability or to create American heroes. This is a really important and engaging read. Highly recommended! Many thanks to St. Martin’s Press and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Tom Clavin’s latest historical book Vengeance: The Last Stands of Custer, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull. 

Add It Up- Violent Femmes' Violent Femmes by Nic Brown (33 1/3)

 Violent Femmes' Violent Femmes by Nic Brown (33 1/3 series)

Violent Femmes cover

Author and musician Nic Brown

Big thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and NetGalley for making the latest entry into the 33 1/3 series available for preview. Nic Brown’s Violent Femmes’ Violent Femmes is a wonderful addition to the 33 1/3 series, hitting all of the right notes in providing the argument as to why this seminal 80s album is fit to be included in the series. Brown, whose experience as both a musician and writer, enables him to view the music and album from a critical perspective, still brings a relatable and engaging perspective for anyone who grew up listening to alternative music in the late 80s and early 90s. As Brown notes, the music on this album seemed to be everywhere in the days of Gen X’s adolescence, and its unique blend of punk, jazz, and folk music both made the album hard to classify, and yet so appealing and iconoclastic. I loved that Brown begins the book reflecting on hearing “Blister in the Sun” not on the radio or in a store, but rather interpreted by the organist in a baseball stadium, and that the crowd seemingly knows to how to respond to the organist’s call with a rhythmic double clap emulating the da-dum of the original’s snare intro. It’s a point for Brown to both reflect on the legacy of this song and album, but also to wonder how things got to this point where a song about big hands and stained sheets has made its way into the cultural consciousness. Furthermore, I could relate to Brown’s introduction to the album, via his friend’s older sister who was playing the tape while Brown was over. I remember being around the same age and spending the summer at a pool club where all the kids would bring boom boxes. While my box rocked PE and EMPD, there was competition from the Violent Femmes (and The Cure), who provided an alternative sound for that summer that definitely called to me. It would be another few years until I hit high school and eventually ended up buying the tape to play in my car. I’m not sure if it was Ethan Hawke singing “Add It Up” in Reality Bites, but I gradually got to love all of the songs on that album, playing it regularly in my car while driving around or heading to school or work. There was such an energy and freneticism to the music that wasn’t apparent in a lot of other alternative bands from the early 90s. However, since the internet wasn’t readily available in most homes at the time, there wasn’t a lot I knew about the Violent Femmes beyond this album and the song “American Music,” which was another track I loved from a compilation that was also in my car rotation.

Brown’s book helps to fill in most of the details about the band, its formation, and the recording and creation of the album. Like most of the great 33 1/3 books, Brown not only examines what makes the album great, but he also examines how the album came about, starting with the formation of the group and its background in experimental theater, jazz, and showtunes. Brown recounts a great story about how Gordon Gano, the lead singer and guitarist, met with Brian Ritchie and invited him to play at Gano’s National Honors Society event the next morning. It’s a great story and beginning for the band, and it also highlights how Gano had most of the songs written for the first few Violent Femmes’ albums. From there, Brown dives into exploring the instruments used on the album, which the acoustic bass and drum set up add to the unique and iconic sounds on the album. I’ve also appreciated Gano’s guitar work, which can be both percussive and somewhat improvisational in some solos. However, Brown’s experience as a drummer provides him with the unique ear and vocabulary to examine how the instruments lead to such a meaningful and engaging sound on the album. The main focus is on Ritchie’s acoustic bass, which as Brown notes throughout the book, may be one of the most prominent and distinct bass sounds in popular rock music ever. I really appreciated the consideration of how the bass functions not only as a drum/percussive sound, but that it also takes on solos and expands the nature of the instrument, taking the music to unique and interesting places. It’s a great review and analysis of what makes this album so great.

The next two chapters explore the studio set up and how the band gained access to the studio and worked within it, and then the track listing and exploration of the songs on the album. While I enjoyed learning more about how the band worked in the studio, the chapter that focuses on the songs was probably the best, and among some of the best writing in the 33 1/3 books. Like the author, I have fond memories of this album, and so I was familiar with the songs, but since I learned about this album pre-internet, I haven’t done much research about the songs, so it was cool to learn more about their background, how Gordon Gano wrote them or what he was thinking, and how Ritchie and Victor DeLorenzo contributed to the music, adding their experiences in the experimental theater and jazz scenes of early 80s Milwaukee. I learned a lot from this chapter and gained some new perspectives on some classic songs. The last two chapters were also engaging and fun to read. There’s a chapter on how the album eventually ended up on Slash Records and its release and gradual diffusion to cultural significance, and an Epilogue in which Brown considers his own nostalgia and appreciation for the album. As an aging white guy who can relate to the others Brown observes in the Cramps t-shirts and black jeans when going to see the Violent Femmes in Atlanta, I appreciated this consideration about whether to go see the band or not, and why their music is still meaningful to him. It’s a great reflection on aging and appreciating timeless art and music, and how art and music can make us not only appreciate our youth and the days gone by but also enable us to view ourselves in new ways. Plus, there’s a great reference to a Delmore Schwartz short story, “In Dreams Begin Responsibilities,” that apparently Lou Reed made journalists read before interviewing him. Brown provides a recap, especially after Gano recommends the story. I’m excited to check it out too, and I appreciate Brown’s recommendation. This was such a fun and engaging read, and I’m glad that Bloomsbury Academic added it up to their series, ensuring that it will go down on the permanent record. Highly recommended!

A Call To Education- The Sacred Art of Teaching: The Delpit/Emdin Conversations

 The Sacred Art of Teaching: The Delpit/Emdin Conversations by Lisa Delpit and Christopher Emdin

The Sacred Art of Teaching book cover

Author and Educational Researcher Lisa Delpit

Author and Educational Researcher Christopher Emdin

Many thanks to The New Press and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of education theorists and leaders Lisa Delpit and Christopher Emdin’s new book The Sacred Art of Teaching: The Delpit/Emdin Conversations. This book was just what I needed to restore and reinvigorate me and my commitment to education. I’m not sure if the publisher and/or authors decided to have this book come out at the end of the school year, but it seems like a fitting idea as I found myself filled with gratitude and purpose after reading the conversations between two of the most influential and consequential thinkers and activists for critical teaching. I was excited to find this book since Lisa Delpit’s books were influential when I was teaching high school. Her call to recognize and elevate students’ voices in the classroom and to appreciate and leverage their cultures and communities is important for any educator, but especially those who work with students who come from different backgrounds. Delpit’s approach to teaching takes that constructivist framework, but also integrates culture, race, and language as integral elements to recognize in student learning, and those ideas shine through in these in-depth and detailed conversations she shares with fellow educator Christopher Emdin. I was also really excited to learn that Emdin was her co-conversationalist since his book For White Folks Who Teach in the Hood…and the Rest of Y’all Too was recommended to me by a fellow teacher in a human development course I was teaching. Although it’s still on my TBR list, the title grabbed my attention and, like Delpit’s work, made me appreciate that there are educators out there who recognize the importance of leveraging students’ culture, language, and race in teaching, especially when there can be cultural incongruity in the classroom. Emdin also shares similar ideas and approaches to teaching, learning and leading with Delpit that not only provide useful tips and ideas for teachers and school leaders, but also really helped reaffirm my commitment to teaching and learning.

The book is somewhat different from more traditional educational texts in that this is a series of conversations that focus on certain topics related to teaching and learning in today’s classrooms. However, these conversations gradually meander and move around the subjects, tangentially talking about other important issues in education and society, and recognizing the power and influence that teachers can have on their students’ lives. While I was grateful to learn some ideas and strategies from these experts, I didn’t expect to feel such a sense of gratitude and appreciation for teaching and learning. In fact, the authors frame teaching as not only a responsibility, but as something akin to a tradition or rite, in which educators play a part in continuing a legacy of cultural transmission that will influence future generations to come. It’s a powerful and beautiful way of framing education that I hadn’t really considered, but that also provides a stronger sense of purpose and responsibility in our work.

I appreciated hearing from both of these renowned scholar educators, who share their experience, backgrounds, and ideas for the classroom and schools. They present some great ideas about teaching and are especially interested in making learning relevant by engaging students and recognizing the kinds of experiences and interests that students bring to the classroom. I love this approach, and I think that most teachers would agree that it is essential to meet students where they are, but also to use what they are familiar with and interested in to make the learning more relevant. I also found that there were important lessons about how ego and power can impact teaching, especially when teachers are placed in a position of power in their classrooms. Nevertheless, Delpit and Emdin provide reminders about how humbling and necessary teaching can be that help to reorient teachers to the mission and vision for teaching. This was an inspirational and engaging book that teachers can pick up throughout the year or turn to a specific chapter to find some insightful and inventive ideas for the classroom. Whether it’s a struggle with making the content relevant, engaging challenging students, or rethinking assessment, this book has so many great ideas and practices for the classroom. I would imagine that this would be a great book for professional development, PLC, or a kind of inquiry community within a school. Teachers and schools would gain a lot from reading and discussing this book throughout the year. I loved that I was able to read this at the end of the academic year, and I can imagine revisiting some of the chapters during the summer to gain some ideas for the upcoming year. This is a great book for teachers, especially in service teachers, but I think it would benefit preservice teachers to learn more about the challenges of teaching and how to confront and surmount them. Highly recommended! 

Oh Those Wildwood Horrors- Body Count by Codie Crowley

 Body Count by Codie Crowley

Body Count book cover

Author Codie Crowley

Many thanks to Disney Publishing Worldwide, Disney Hyperion, and NetGalley for allowing me to read Codie Crowley’s wild Wildwood horror novel Body Count. I was so excited to find a horror/slasher book that takes place in Wildwood, NJ. Although Wildwood has evolved over the years and celebrates its 1950s heritage, it will always be the kind of gritty, tough alternative to the staid, Victorian (and boring) summer vacations of my childhood spent in Cape May. There was usually one day out of our trips to Cape May where we got to go to the Wildwood boardwalk, and it was always the highlight of my summer vacation. Everything about Wildwood was so alive and thriving compared to Cape May—the rides, the delicious boardwalks food, the people, the crazy t-shirts, the talking tramcars! Wildwood is still a fun place where I take my kids, but there always seemed to be a darker side, like something under the surface that I could feel was so different in Wildwood than Cape May. We usually visited during the day because my parents were afraid to be there at night, and it was usually after some kind of kids fight erupting on the boardwalk or a stabbing that induced further fear. However, Wildwood was also the site of one of my most memorable fears when I was a child. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if this place really existed or if it was some kind of nightmare that seeped into my consciousness, but after doing some internet research, I discovered that the Whacky Shack was a real place, and even if the scenes depicted in the ride were with dolls and mannequins, it seemed real to my 5 year old self. Maybe my older cousins took me on the ride because I know my parents would never go with me, and I was too young to go on my own. However, I was haunted for years by what I saw in the Whacky Shack, and the last sight riders see, a hand coming up from the toilet, was forever seared in my brain. Codie Crowley’s Body Count harkens back to these Wildwood days of fear and terror lurking underneath the boardwalk or tucked away at the ends of the pier. It’s fitting that Lia, one of the main characters, stays at the Blue Velvet motel, owned by her aunt, since the book has a Lynchian feel where things don’t exactly seem right in Wildwood. Like Lynch’s classic film that examines the underbelly of a typical American town, Crowley’s book also peels back the surface of the island where memories are made to see what kind of evil and violence is lurking beneath the surface. It’s a fun and clever premise that anyone whose visited Wildwood will appreciate. Even if they haven’t had the opportunity to visit Wildwood, this is still a wild and creative idea for a slasher that haunts the two female protagonists, Sundae and Lia, as they are both enchanted by the spirit of a mysterious doowop singer, Holly Jolly, who drowned in a motel pool after losing his opportunity for fame in a tragic diner fire.

There’s a lot to like about Crowley’s book, from the young protagonists who battle sexism and harassment down the shore after the prom to the inventive kills that the malevolent spirit of the boardwalk enacts to fulfill their need for human life. While we first encounter the spirit as Holly Jolly, the doomed doowop singer, in the motel pool when Sundae is younger, there are other very Jersey-centric kills that happen. I loved that Crowley used these kinds of reference points but also made it a point to incorporate some of the Weird NJ stories from the Wildwood area for the kills. For example, one of the forms that the spirit takes in the book is a giant shark, just like the Jersey Shore shark attacks of 1916 that inspired Jaws. Another one of the forms is Tuffy the lion, which I didn’t even know about until one of the characters reveals that a lion was used in a stunt show in Wildwood in the 1930s. Tuffy eventually had enough, got loose from its sidecar, and ran wild on the boardwalk, killing a tourist and terrorizing beach goers. Crowley includes some other stories from Weird NJ deaths that provide the boardwalk spirit with a means to terrorize and kill all of the teens visiting Wildwood after their prom. It’s inventive and a great tribute to how weird NJ is. I also really liked the characters in the book. The story is primarily told through Sundae, a senior from North Jersey who returns to Wildwood despite her misgivings from an earlier encounter with Holly Jolly, another form of the boardwalk wish-master spirit, in the pool of the motel where she spent the summer with her mom after they left her abusive father. Lia, the lead singer of Morticia, heads down the shore to play a show at her aunt’s motel and diner. For Lia, this show is a shot at redemption after an earlier disaster opening for a popular band in Philly when she seemed to suffer from doubts and stage fright, running off the stage before her band’s set began. Lia’s exit from the stage in Philly was a little unclear, and her bandmates, Edison and Dallas, seem to hold a bit of a grudge against Lia for squandering their opportunity for more exposure. Nevertheless, they trek on to Wildwood, looking forward to playing a show for the seniors going down the shore. Although the book has strong female protagonists like Sundae and Lia, I loved Edison and Dallas. They were fun characters who made many references to horror movies throughout the book. It was cool to see how the different events and kills in the book were allusions to other great horror films from the 80s and 90s. Furthermore, I loved the Wildwood references throughout the book. There’s a great scene on the Ferris Wheel, and one of the first wishes that Sundae wishes for is not to have to pay for anything so she can have a hermit crab, a classic living souvenir for any kids visiting the Jersey shore. I also liked that Holly Jolly, the doomed doowop singer who Sundae first encounters at the bottom of the motel pool, represented Wildwood’s doowop history. He’s a creepy figure, who like Morticia, Lia’s band, squandered his one opportunity at success when the concert venue he was going to perform in burned down. As a result, his ghost haunts the motel pool where he drowned himself, creating a great urban legend. I was a little unclear if Holly Jolly’s chance at success was a result of making the cursed wishes, but he eventually becomes part of the spirit that haunts the boardwalk. Additionally, there’s a sign in the motel pool that warns swimmers not to open their eyes under the water, and as Sundae finds out, this is to prevent swimmers from seeing Holly Jolly and being invited to make a wish with his saltwater taffy. The boardwalk spirit/genie becomes kind of like a Jersey Shore Pennywise, drawing on the horrors of Wildwood, emerging during disasters and feeding off the evil lurking under the boardwalk. It takes different forms and terrorizes the youth of Wildwood who are just looking to party and have fun.

While the book is a wild and inventive ride, there’s some questions I had about the events and execution. As I just mentioned, I wasn’t sure if Holly Jolly was just as tempted by the spirit for his chance at fame and the fire was like the price he had to pay for his opportunity. We don’t learn too much about Holly Jolly, except from some background exposition form one of the characters who works with Sundae’s mom early in the book and from the lyrics to Holly Jolly’s song. Also, while Morticia seemed like a great and realistic fictional band, Holly Jolly’s song lyrics, which are repeated throughout the book, didn’t really sound like a doowop song. The lyrics are dark and ominous and sounded more like a dark folk song, like a folk horror song. I thought the lyrics were cool and fit with the tone of the story, but they don’t seem to work as a doowop song. Also, there are these images that pair with Holly Jolly’s lyrics throughout my ebook copy. It was unclear what the images were and why they appear. I wish there was more explanation about them—what they mean and their relation to Holly Jolly and his haunting of Sundae. I loved the strong female protagonists in the book, but I wondered about Lia’s breakdown during her concert in Philly. It’s never really explained, but Lia seems to also be unsure of why exactly it happened. Maybe it’s because she’s at the end of adolescence, struggling with her identity and unsure of who she really is. While Sundae seems more empowered and assured of her identity, Lia seems to struggle with her sense of self. I wish that this element of Lia’s identity was explained a little more. I was also a little surprised that this was listed as a YA book. It’s more of a subversive YA book, where the characters engage in the kind of debauchery that is often a part of senior week at the Jersey Shore. I felt like this was probably more appropriate for emerging adults, like people in their 20s who maybe recently emerged from this period of their lives. It’s also probably a book I would have read in high school, since it has elements of It and other great slashers, but there’s a lot of sex, drugs, violence, and rock-n-roll that some parents might find objectionable for their kids. Even though I loved learning about the Weird NJ stories interspersed throughout the book, they were often revealed by a character telling another character about these backstories. For example, with Tuffy, one of the characters reveals this story to tell about how visitors to Wildwood have a probability of getting attacked by a lion on the boardwalk. We also learn about the Jersey Shore shark attacks in this way. I wonder if these kinds of revelations and connections might have worked better in a different narrative approach, like maybe from old news reports or articles dating from the time. This might give some more depth to the forms that the boardwalk spirit takes on. I wanted to learn more about the whaler, the candystore keeper, and the railroad worker, all forms that kill characters in the book. They just kind of appear, and the connection to the spirit is tenuous and ambiguous, making it harder for readers to see the connection. Finally, I’m just wondering how a book set in Wildwood doesn’t include any tramcars. I would have thought there would be some mention of tramcars on the boardwalk. Nevertheless, Crowley crafts a creative story that uses Weird NJ history, but I wish that this history, real or not, could be explored a little more and readers could learn more about the nature of the events and maybe how they are tied to the evil lurking under Wildwood. Overall, though, I’m so glad I had the opportunity to read this book. Body Count was a fun ride that made me ready for the summer, excited to visit Wildwood and learn more about how weird NJ really is. Recommended! 

The last thing riders saw when leaving Wildwood's Whacky Shack. 

This terrorized me for so many years, and represented the kind of dark 

underbelly of Wildwood for me. 

Vampires and Polar Night: 30 Days of Night: Falling Sun

 30 Days of Night: Falling Sun by Rodney Barnes; art by Chris Shehan and Maan House

30 Days of Night: Falling Sun cover

Rodney Barnes

Many thanks to IDW Publishing and NetGalley for the advanced copy of 30 Days of Night: Falling Sun. I wasn’t aware of this series, but I remember the film being an inventive and scary take on vampires, and realized that the film was originally based on an older comic series. The premise is great since Barrow, Alaska experiences a month long night of darkness, which would be attractive to vampires. In this story, both humans and vampires are confronted with past trauma, and they seek out new communities and opportunities in finding ways to survive. As readers, we are more likely drawn to Jalen, a young LA transplant who moves to Barrow with his uncle to escape the dangers of LA. Unbeknownst to Jalen, he’s running from the frying pan to the fire by going to Barrow. Around the same time, a group of vampires preparing for the month long darkness resurrects the soul of an old vampire leader using blood and ash. This resurrection leads to opportunities for vengeance, with the vampire seeking out revenge for his brother. The two stories of the survivors of Barrow and the vampires out for blood converge in a bloody standoff in the town.

This story has all the great elements of the classic vampire siege movie/story, whether it’s The Lost Boys, From Dusk Till Dawn, or the more recent Sinners. The townspeople eventually become trapped in a space and need to withstand the attacks from outside and within, sometimes battling among their own for dominance within the group. I actually really liked the vampires in this book too. While the story doesn’t delve too deep into their backstory, their ritual to bring back their leader is dark and creepy, with bloody and unique artwork by Chris Sheehan and Maan House. It’s also cool to see how the vampires have their own kind of hierarchy and seek out revenge, much like humans. Even though the story is about a group of vampires attacking a polar town plunged into darkness for a month, there were some elements that seemed somewhat unbelievable. For example, some of the gang members Jalen is fleeing from manage to get to Alaska from LA, and they bring their guns with them, creating an additional standoff that the humans must weather. I can see how this adds to the tension in the standoff, but it felt somewhat unbelievable that these gangbangers are going to suddenly make it to Alaska from LA. Nevertheless, I enjoyed this graphic novel, and I hope that there are other stories in this series coming out. Recommended!  

Son of the City: A Memoir by Dante Ross

Son of the City book cover

Author, A&R, but no scrub Dante Ross

I’ve been reading a bunch of music memoirs, especially about the downtown NY music scene. In the past few months, I read Thurston Moore’s Sonic Life and Chris Stein’s Under a Rock. Both books were good and explored how their respective bands benefitted from the diverse musical scenes that helped birth punk, noise, and alternative rock in the 1970s and 80s. Interestingly, both books had connections to the emerging Hip-Hop scene; Thurston Moore shared one episode where he either attended or almost attended Kurtis Blow’s Christmas Rappin’ recording; similarly, Blondie were a part of the downtown scence that included Basquiat, Keith Herring, Ramalzee, and Fab 5 Freddy, featuring Fab 5 in the song and video for Rapture. Dante Ross may have slightly overlapped with these memoirists too, but his experience growing up in NYC in the late 70s and early 80s was a little more outside of this downtown scene. I absolutely loved this book, and this was by far the most entertaining of the 3 music memoirs dealing with NYC’s downtown scene (as a side note, one other memoir, Kathleen Hanna’s Rebel Girl, was also fabulous and has a connection with the Beastie Boys, much like Dante Ross does). There were so many great elements to Dante Ross’s memoir. I found his voice to be so real and also entertaining. I loved that he used hip-hop vernacular that I haven’t heard for a minute. It added to a fun and relaxed style of narrative, even when some of his early life was not always a crystal staircase. Growing up with an absent drug addict father and an alcoholic mother who struggled with keeping a job and maintaining her mental well-being, Ross candidly and fearlessly shares how challenging this was with a wise and introspective perspective that seems to indicate how much he gained from these experiences trying to find shelter, friends, and food, or surviving, in NYC. While his mother had her own challenges, Dante also paints her as a committed activist who kept to her ideals. One story he shares about the NYC blackouts was really interesting and made me think about my own parenting and whether I maintain my principles in the face of challenging situations. Ross also shares how he helped his friend learn to read, diagnosing him as dyslexic when the schools had more or less given up on him. These experiences also help Ross explore his own privilege, despite not having much money and living a precarious situation at home. Although I knew about Dante Ross from De La Soul, I didn’t realize how deep and wide his musical roots are in NYC and beyond. Ross hung out with in the NYC hardcore scene that birthed the Cro-Mags, and shared his amazement at seeing Bad Brains in the early 80s. He also details the birth and evolution of the Beastie Boys, and these were some of the funniest and most joyous scenes in the book. I read Dan LeRoy’s great book about Paul’s Boutique, and this is another insider perspective about that time and the challenges that the Beasties faced in transitioning from Def Jam to Columbia. Furthermore, I think that Ross’s friendship with the Beasties and his participation in a wide array of musical styles early on helped shape his perspectives on hip-hop. Ross eventually falls in with Tommy Boy, helping to bring De La Soul to a larger audience. Looking at De La Soul, Queen Latifah, and A Tribe Called Quest, all acts that Dante Ross had a hand in getting record deals, you can see how his omnivorous musical tastes helped him work with these artists who were different from the more mainstream B-Boy brand of hip-hop. These acts, and Dante Ross’s role in promoting these acts, really helped to challenge the boundaries of hip-hop, extending them for the better and re-shaping the rules for what was acceptable in hip-hop circles. I think that the diversity in the downtown NYC musical scene had a lot to do with this. These acts, not quite alternative or backpack rap yet, brought in different , jazzier samples, conscious lyrics, and an Afrocentric sensibility towards fashion. It was really interesting to see this theme running through the artists that Dante Ross worked with throughout his career. I loved reading the later chapters as well. It’s not just Dante Ross’s voice that is so enthralling, but also the fact that he was working with so many of the rappers and groups that I loved in my early adolescence. Reading through this book was like reminiscing—but also learning since Ross shares some incredible stories of working with artists like Leaders of the New School, Pete Rock and CL Smooth, Grand Puba and Brand Nubian, MF DOOM (Cev Luv X of KMD), 3^rd Bass, Guru, I could just go on, but this was like the wall of cassettes and crates of records in my high school bedroom. Reading about working with ODB, KMD and later DOOM provided me with an insider’s perspective of these artists, and I really liked that his detailing of his close work with ODB and DOOM helped to provide another viewpoint, showing how thoughtful and creative these artists were. I think that many people recognize DOOM’s creative genius, but Ross explains that he has been upset about how people view ODB, and his stories helped to show how intentional and creative ODB was in creating his persona and the arti and design for his album. Although I’m not a big fan of Everlast’s solo work, Dante Ross produced and really had a hand in helping Everlast get this album going. This was also a great section of the book. His descriptions about the challenges and health risks they faced in creating this album were captivating. I loved learning more about the creative process of making music, and especially the technical aspects of it. I’m amazed to see how Dante Ross didn’t really have a music background beyond being a huge fan, and worked his way up from working in the mail room at a nascent Def Jam to become a creative force in not only artist and repertoire, but also in production and beat making. It was really cool to see his own growth in the field—working with artists and record labels—and eventually moving into musical production. I really appreciated Ross’s candidness about his life, whether sharing about his family, his loves and losses, or his substance abuse and eventual sobriety. I felt like beyond the entertainment of the stories he shares, he also drops knowledge about career management, relationships, both romantic and platonic, and mental health. Maybe it’s all that conscious hip-hop he’s been a part of, but he’s skilled at subtly kicking science to the masses. Finally, I loved that I finished this book on father’s day. I didn’t know anything about Dante Ross’s dad, but he starts the book out talking about how his dad was the kind of motivating force in starting the book; his later chapters go over being with his dad during his final year or so. It was really beautiful, and I can tell that the sobriety has given him some perspective on his relationship with his father and his eventual passing. As someone who also had a complicated relationship with his father, it helped me remember the better times and how I was able to be there for my dad during his final month. I really resonated with Ross’s experience of being there and wanting to be there despite the specter and impending fear of death. I realized that this experience had something to teach me. It was kind of like a nice connection I felt to Dante Ross’s experiences. One other final note, I loved that Dante Ross described another A&R who he disagreed with as “a mountain climber who plays an electric guitar”. Loved that Protect Ya Neck reference. Always thought that was hilarious 90s stereotyping. If you are a music fan or a fan of memoirs, this is a great one to read, even if you are not familiar with Dante Ross or the artists he’s repped over time. Chances are, you’ve encountered some of the music he’s had a hand in bringing to a larger audience, whether your from the 80s, 90s, or later. Really great memoir, and I hope that Dante Ross has more books coming out.