A Sudden Flicker of Light: Exploring Film's Impact

 A Sudden Flicker of Light: A Revisionist History of Movies by David Thomson 

A Sudden Flicker of Light book cover

Author and film critic David Thomson

Big thanks to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for allowing me to preview David Thomson’s provocative and expansive A Sudden Flicker of Light: A Revisionist History of Movies. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect with this book. While I wasn’t familiar with Thomson’s writing, I’ve learned that he is one of the foremost film critics, authoring over 40 books in a career spanning nearly 60 years. He knows his stuff, and this book is touted as the culmination of all of his knowledge and thoughts about film, both celebrating and critiquing not just the artistry and magic of filmmaking, but also the commerce and industry of Hollywood and the silver screen. However, what I found most interesting was not just examining the trends and history of film, but rather examining how film has influenced individuals and society, and how the kind of imaginary pretense of stories on the screen has ended up influencing people’s expectations and understandings of the world around us. A Sudden Flicker of Light ends up being a fascinating study of the role of popular media on our own ideas and expectations about the world, which challenged my own thinking about my relationship to films, media, and others. I ended up enjoying this book, not only for Thomson’s unique, digressive style that seems to transition from one idea or film to another like a jump cut, establishing an implicit relationship, but also because Thomson’s ideas and critiques about the influence of film and popular media had me questioning and thinking more and more about why we watch films and what impact this has on us. It’s a fascinating look at the history of film, which as the book’s subtitled proclaims, challenges popular notions of films by frequently looking at influential factors, context, trends, and historical events that have influenced not just movie scripts and productions but also viewership and ticket sales.

Although Thomson’s book follows a somewhat historical progression of films, he starts the book focusing on cinematographer and director Haskell Wexler, who is often cited as one of the best cinematographers, but who was also fired from two award winning films in the 70s (The Conversation and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). I wasn’t exactly sure what this brief biography had to do with the rest of the book, but after finishing I can see a few themes emerge from Wexler’s career, especially as he was working with some of the directors who helped shift the Hollywood machine from entertainment to art, revising the ways that we consumed films and movies. As Thomson explains, Wexler was asking a lot of questions, sometimes pulling the actors from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest aside to question the tone of the film, asking whether Milos Foreman was trying to elicit more comedy from a film that could possibly serve as a serious critique of society. This kind of conflict or dichotomy between artistry and themes in films and the need for commerce and audience approval is one of the oppositions that Thomson pursues and analyzes throughout the book. It’s fascinating to think about how Cuckoo’s Nest, an Oscar winner and beloved classic, may have turned out differently if it had sought to lessen the humor and been more serious or morose. Thomson raises some other examples, most notably the ending of Chinatown, which was rewritten to be dourer, which ended up subverting the audiences’ expectations for a happy ending. He also acknowledges the kind of ambiguous ending of Adolescence as another way that audiences are left with questions about the motivation, yet still can remain riveted to the screen based on the artistry of the acting, direction, and relevance of the plot. The discussion of Adolescence and Netflix’s influence on our viewing is also compelling to think about how the approach to home viewing and engaging longer form television has shaped our own consumption of films and movies.

I loved learning more about the history of cinema, and Thomson’s own reflections about how cinema has evolved over time. There’s a lot to learn about, and in particular, the chapter “Like Lightning” that deals with The Birth of a Nation, the first film to be screened at the White House, is fascinating, especially in its demonstration of how film has the power to alter the popular understanding of history and shape or reinforce personal beliefs, biases, and stereotypes. I found this chapter particularly relevant based on the ways that images, video, and other forms of media are often presented to win hearts and minds and challenge perceptions about the nature of the world. Rather than documenting a kind of truth or reflecting historical accuracy, Thomson explores the ways in which film manipulates and alters our emotions and ideas, much the same way that say videos shared of boat attacks or bombings are now shared on social media to drum up support for violent, illegal policies and unpopular attacks on other nations. In fact, Thomson’s last chapter, titled “Quiet, Piggy” raises some important observations and questions about the ways in which President Trump, a big fan of Sunset Boulevard and Gone With the Wind, two other films Thomson analyzes and critiques, has more or less become an actor in his own film, playing a kind of trope and using other motifs like violence, sex, and villainy to sell his film. It’s a fascinating deconstruction that questions how our viewership and voyeurism has shifted from watching what plays out on the screen as a kind of escapism and fantasy to actually enacting the fantasy in real life.

Thomson’s viewership and scholarship is nearly unlimited, but he seems to know a lot about film noir, as one of the chapters significantly focuses on noir. Other chapters focus on other film trends, but sometimes the chapters aren’t completely historical or thematic, and his style moves around a bit. At first, I found these transitions a little hard to follow, but as the book progressed, I appreciated his thinking and linking more and more. At times, Thomson has a kind of conversational style where it’s almost as if he’s sitting in a room sharing all of his ideas and observations that have built up over years of viewership with the reader. At other times, he makes humorous asides and suggestions about films, actors, directors, and themes. I appreciated how critical he was of the need to sustain a commercial audience, and how popular tastes and the Hays Code influenced the earlier film industry. Other chapters on Orson Welles’ brilliance are also fascinating to read to really understand how Citizen Kane both established and in some ways limited Welles’ career. Thomson goes on to examine certain trends in films that emerged in the 1930s throughout the 1970s, noting how world events like the Great Depression, World War II, and the Cold War influenced film themes and tropes, including villains, heroes, the roles of women, and the need for sex and violence in films, even if these ideas are implied more than explicitly stated or displayed. Again, through his insight, Thomson explores how films are more of a window facing inwards, in our own psyches and human nature, rather than a mirror reflecting reality, and often giving us what we may desire or want rather than showing us an objective truth.

A Sudden Flicker of Light is a fascinating read; one that will challenge readers’ understandings and thoughts about film and popular media and how it shapes our own understanding to the world. It’s a book I will need to revisit since there are so many different ideas, but it’s also an important book to consider due to how Thomson raises important questions about our own viewership (or voyeurism) and how the trends and themes films explore have not only altered us on an individual level, but also how they have shifted ideas, attitudes, and beliefs in society. I loved this book and highly recommend it! 

Green Mutants Fighting Each Other: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles X Godzilla by Tim Seeley with Artwork by Fero Pe

 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles X Godzilla by Tim Seeley; Artwork by Fero Pe; Colorist Luis Antonio Delgado; Letterer Brian Kolek

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles X Godzilla cover

Author Tim Seeley

Artist Fero Pe

A great, big kaiju thanks to IDW Publishing and NetGalley for making their latest Godzilla mashup available to preview. Sometimes unlikely pairings can have a great payoff. Whether it’s the Judgement Night soundtrack or Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg, the unexpected pairing of two seemingly disparate individuals or groups can show more alignment and result in fascinating and novel outcomes. Such is the case with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles X Godzilla, where it would seem like the 4 pizza loving, skateboard riding turtle brothers, named after Renaissance painters, who hail from NYC would have little in common with Japan’s biggest export and most feared giant monster, Godzilla, and his other kaiju kin. However, as this comic makes the point, both the Ninja Turtles and Godzilla are mutants whose mutations provided them with unique skills and powers. While the Ninja Turtles grew from mutagen in the NYC sewers, Godzilla’s mutation arose from radiation from the atomic bombs dropped on Japan. What was also interesting about this pairing is that there’s a shared backstory to the pair. Shredder and Master Splinter were both part of the Foot Clan, which was formed in Japan and was one of the organizations that attempted to protect people from the kaiju attacks in Japan’s past. This comic features flashbacks to the Foot Clan’s older days when Shredder and Splinter worked together. Although the Foot Clan struggled to contain the giant monsters, they were able to develop a kind of connection to the creatures through meditation, allowing the Foot Clan to better understand the monster’s motivations and drives. It’s a creative and fascinating way to seek ways to understand and potentially exploit the monsters’ anger, fury and pure power to wreak havoc on the world.

The story includes flashbacks and alternates between NYC and Shredder and Krang’s crew in the Technodrome as they make their way to Japan to take advantage of the kaiju. The action starts as Bebop and Rocksteady are attempting to take some proprietary hardware from a Japanese scientist who is in NYC. The Turtles come to her rescue, and eventually learn more about the attacks on Japan from Godzilla. They spot Shredder there, and Master Splinter then reveals his long connection with the Foot Clan and their role in keeping the kaiju in Edo Island. April O’Neil and Casey Jones are also featured, along with Mondo Gecko, a newer character who I wasn’t that familiar with but enjoyed his time on the pages. There’s much creativity that went into integrating these stories, bringing in various Godzilla nemeses like King Ghidorah, Mechagodzilla, Rodan, Jet Jaguar, Hedorah, and Mothra. Both Hedorah and Mothra have some prominent roles in the plot of this story as well, and I loved the way Tim Seeley incorporated these canonical Godzilla characters and their backstories into this graphic novel. In addition, Fero Pe’s artwork is incredible in this, along with the coloring by Luis Antonio Delgado and the lettering by Brian Kolek. There are also some great alternative covers by other artists, especially at the end of the graphic novel. It was fun to see these variations on the stories and the attempts to blend the Turtles with Kaiju. This is a great and fun pairing of two seemingly different cult classics that works really well due to the entertaining story and the excellent artwork. Highly recommended!

A Return to the Rosebud Reservation with Wisdom Corner by David Heska Wanbli Weiden

 Wisdom Corner by David Heska Wanbli Weiden

Wisdom Corner book cover

Author David Heska Wanbli Weiden

Many thanks to Ecco, Harper Collins Publishers, and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of David Heska Wanbli Weiden’s exciting entry into the Virgil Wounded Horse novels Wisdom Corner. I have been waiting for this book for a while now, and I was very excited to find it on NetGalley. I read Winter Counts, the first entry into vigilante enforcer of the Rosebud Reservation Virgil Wounded Horse, about 5 years ago, not knowing much about the book. Heska Wanbli Weiden has the skill as a writer to craft page turning chapters that are full of action and intrigue while also being able to incorporate history, philosophy, and traditions of Indians, especially of the Sicangu Lakota people who live on the Rosebud Reservation. I was surprised at how gritty and thrilling the book is, yet there are also these incredibly informative and insightful sections where readers can learn about the traditions and history of the Lakota as well as other Indian people that seems to counter many of the stereotypes and misrepresentations that have been perpetuated throughout history and popular culture. Virgil isn’t the typical tough guy whose all action and no thinking. He’s a thoughtful and considerate guy who tries to avoid fighting, but will throw down when necessary. What I really appreciate about Virgil, though, is his continual growth and development, recognizing that he’s not perfect and that he seeks ways to continue to learn more about his identity, his culture, and his people’s history and ways. It’s these thoughtful moments of introspection that border the action in the book creating a wonderful kind of dwelling that as a reader, I found myself eager to revisit.

Wisdom Corner is a welcome return to the Rosebud Reservation with Virgil as our guide, although he notes that there are some issues that continue to plague the Rez like bootlegging liquor, access to healthy foods, which creates a reliance on convenient snacks and unhealthy, processed foods, crime, and the lack of investigative and preventative forces to fight back against crime. Heska Wanbli Weiden includes some great notes at the end of the book declaring that this is a work of fiction that takes place on a real reservation where he attempts to recapture the fond memories he had of growing up on Rosebud. However, he is also able to identify some of the more systemic and structural problems that have plagued Indigenous communities that have some level of independence from the federal government, but also lack any kind of support or resource sharing from the federal government. The limited access to resources, especially when fighting crime, is where Virgil sees an opportunity to use his skills, although he is trying to reform his ways, especially after the end of Winter Counts.

Although I ended up really enjoying this book, it starts somewhat slower, as Virgil spends about the first fifth of the book recapping the events of Winter Counts. Nevertheless, it’s an important reminder since Marie, Virgil’s significant other, ended up killing her father, who was a tribal council member who was dealing drugs on the Rez. Marie has taken over her parents’ home but still lives with Virgil. This plays an important part in Wisdom Corner, and I appreciated how Heska Wanbli Weiden is able to build on this continuity from book to book. Wisdom Corner has a twisty, surprising plot that will leave readers wondering who is behind the violence that is erupting on the rez. Virgil initially believes that the battle is retaliation from a meeting between his friend, Pudge, a bootlegger, and a rival gang from another rez who want to start selling alcohol on Rosebud. Virgil attends the meeting with his friend to maintain the peace, but has to resort to defending Pudge with his fists, as the rival gang becomes too threatening and imposing. In a later episode during his process serving work, Virgil encounters more resistance from a guy and his Aryan Nation buddies, but ultimately defends himself. Yet, Marie, who is now running for tribal council, has repeatedly asked Virgil to stop the violence as her opponent, Mitch Gagnon, will stoop to mudslinging and possibly some other dirty tricks to win the race.

Virgil also leans about a new development taking place in a city nearby where a Native boarding school stood. The developers took over the land and discovered unmarked graves on the site, which has slowed the construction process. Virgil eventually leans that his aunt was one of the children who died there and is likely buried in an unmarked grave there. Heska Wanbli Weiden uses this plot point to further educate readers about the horrors of these boarding schools that took Indigenous children away from their families in order to teach them the ways of white folks, just as the infamous phrase from Richard Henry Platt, who started the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, advocated for white society to “Kill the Indian, save the man.” While this could be a moment for a kind of preachy and pedantic lecture on injustices done to Indigenous people, Heska Wanbli Weiden skillfully incorporates this history and injustice as something that Virgil has a personal connection to and is trying to learn more about. Furthermore, the battle between the developers and the Indigenous community to preserve the remains of the ancestors highlights some of the current battles between commerce and tradition, corporations and collectives, where we see powerful, paid interests often finding ways to defeat these communities. I really appreciated how he integrates these learning moments throughout the book.

Shortly after visiting the development site to learn more about where his aunt might be, Virgil learns that his mentor and the respected tribal medicine man, Jerome Iron Shell, was murdered. Jerome was Pudge’s uncle, so Pudge and Virgil immediately suspect the rival 705 Gang. However, they have trouble tracking them down and pinning the murder on them. Through his encounters with other indigenous activists and tribal members, Virgil will work to unravel the mystery of Jerome’s murder. Yet, this will also come at a cost for Virgil. Heska Wanbli Weiden has crafted a compelling and exciting crime thriller that takes readers on the Rez and shares aspects of traditional Lakota life and history. Furthermore, he’s able to critique some of the issues that Indigenous people face through Virgil’s thoughtful asides. I also want to mention that the dialogue in this book is great. Heska Wanbli Weiden has crafted some distinct characters throughout the book, and their varied dialects and slang make them stand out in their differences. I don’t remember the dialogue being like this in Winter Counts, but it was definitely a strong element of Wisdom Corner. However, what I appreciated most about this book beyond being a great crime thriller was that Heska Wanbli Weiden shows the Rosebud Reservation to be a community that is supportive and inclusive, where people know each other, are rooting for one another, and come together when they experience hardship or challenges. Highly recommended! 

Christmas Chaos: Yuletide: The Curse of the Winter Witch

 Yuletide: Curse of the Winter Witch by George Northy; Artwork by Rachele Argano 

Yuletide book cover

Author George Northy

Artist Rachele Argano

Many thanks to Oni Press and NetGalley for allowing me to preview an interesting, new graphic novel Yuletide: Curse of the Winter Witch. While I’m not one to read a lot of Christmas-based stories, the idea of a winter witch who wants to apply a curse appealed to me. I was surprised at how creatively Northy incorporates the kind of mythological characters and monsters from other cultures and belief systems in this modern story. Yuletide is an interesting take the kids versus monsters/evil stories that were a part of 80s movies. In fact, in an interview at the end of the book, Northy credits Goonies as a major influence along with movies like Hocus Pocus and shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He also wrote for the show Charmed, and I can see how the research into traditional witches in other cultures applies to this story. Although the story takes a little time to develop, once all of the mythological creatures are unleased from their boxes and begin wreaking havoc on the town of Christmas, PA, the story gets much more engaging and exciting.

Yuletide starts with the story of Jake, a jaded teen who is sick of the corporatization and commercialization of Christmas, even though he lives in Christmas, PA with his widowed mother and sister. Jake has some other friends in the town with whom he can commiserate about the impending holiday gloom, even though his Jewish friend Abe is more obsessed about Christmas than Chanukah. The friends eventually congregate at one of their Uncle’s Christmas shops, where, dressed as Santa, Uncle Kris reveals a series of odd boxes with designs he found under other Christmas antiques and artifacts. The friends decide to revisit the shop afterhours and open one of the boxes with a squiggly knife. The boxes unleash several of the mythological monsters and figures from other winter cultures. Included are the Jólakötturinn, a giant Icelandic cat that attacks children who don’t receive new clothing for Christmas; Mari Lwyd, a Welsh horse ghost who is represented as a skull with a sheet and often speaks in rhymes; Jólasveinar, who are 13 Yule Lads (or trolls) who wreak havoc by licking bowls and stealing sausages during the holiday season; the Schnabelperchten, creatures who have a large, bird-like beak, carry giant scissors, and sweep and clean people’s homes during the new year; and Perchta, the Yule Withc, who was a beautiful winter goddess, but gradually took on people’s misery and filled herself up with darkness, becoming a dark goddess and witch, who goes after children, slicing open their bellies with a crooked blade, removes their innards and replaces it with trash. It’s a motley collection of winter monsters and witches, who begin to cause chaos throughout the Christmas centered town. The story reminded me of those 80s films, including Gremlins, where the characters know some of the rules, but also have to figure other weaknesses out to defeat their enemies. Jake and his friends have to band together and with the help of an elf who was also released to track down the Yule Witch and her minions, seek to send these winter warriors back to their hibernal habitats. I loved learning about the different cultures and creatures. This was probably my favorite part of the book, and Northy subtly integrates elements of the cultures and traditions that bore these myths into a modern story. He also takes some creative liberties in making the creatures behave in a modern setting, but this also helps to create an engaging pairing of traditional cultural beliefs and modern genre stories for adolescents like Goonies and Gremlins. Although the story is action-packed and the teen team has to battle through the winter crew one-by-one before reaching the head boss, Perchta, the beginning of the story started a little slow. I also found that the dialogue to be a little long and abstract for comics and especially for teenagers in comics. Northy presents some philosophical ideas, especially about Christmas, commercialization, and corporate interests, but it was a little hard to read these lengthy diatribes in comic bubbles. Nevertheless, his work to introduce and educate about these mythological creatures is well done, and I really enjoyed the story once they were released. Furthermore, this book made me think more about my own ideas and practices during the winter season, and whether I’m really appreciative of the changing of the seasons or whether I’m in it more for the presents and commercialization. Additionally, Argano’s artwork makes the story fun and light. I also enjoyed some of the other alternative covers as well. Yuletide: The Curse of the Winter Witch is a fun, wild ride with many interesting creatures incorporated from other cultures and myths from around Scandinavia and other winter-based cultures. Recommended!

 

 

 

 

Mister Magic: The Graphic Novel- Exploring Nostalgia and Creepypasta

 Mister Magic: The Graphic Novel by Kiersten White; adapted by Scott Peterson; artwork by Veronica Fish and Andy Fish

Mister Magic: The Graphic Novel cover

Author Kiersten White

Graphic novel adaptation by Scott Peterson

Artists Veronica and Andy Fish

Many thanks to Clarkson Potter/Ten Speed Press and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Kiersten White’s Mister Magic: The Graphic Novel, adapted by Scott Peterson with artwork by Veronica Fish and Andy Fish. I’ve had Mister Magic on my TBR list since it arrived. The novel takes a kind of creepypasta story about a beloved but forgotten and inaccessible children’s television that everyone seems to have fond memories of, but no one can find or recall any episodes. Like other forms of these creepypasta, Mister Magic examines some of the darker sides of childhood and our nostalgia for the good old days that may create some kinds of biases and blind spots in our collective consciousness. This kind of ambiguity and blindness creates a sense of unease as those involved with the show reconnect after 30 years apart and begin to make sense of the purpose of the show, its impact on others, and their own roles and experiences in the show. The concept for the book is fascinating, and I love the way it deals with the ideas of a kind of nostalgia that upon further review, reveals the dark underbelly that we may be repressing or misremembering to enable a sense of calm and ease for the present. It’s a timely theme that we see playing out in schools, universities, and popular media today. However, I found this graphic novel sometimes hard to follow with multiple characters who meet after 30 years apart as well as sudden scene transitions. I’m wondering whether the novel provides more context with chapters and allows us to better understand the internal thoughts and backgrounds of these characters in more depth than the graphic novel allows. Nevertheless, the artwork for this edition is excellent, creating a blend of realism, fantasy, and memory, as well as incorporating popular and online media that details some of the history and fan memories with the show. I loved how there are pages from blogs, reddit, and Wikipedia that detail some of the history and memories people share about the show Mister Magic. It adds a sense of realism, but also creates more of the mysterious and ambiguous nature of the show since no one can really recall what it is about, but everyone seems to have fond and almost codependent feelings about the show. This was definitely one of my favorite aspects of the graphic novel.

The story of Mister Magic picks up in the present when Val is preparing to bury her father, with whom she shared an isolated and suspicious existence in rural America. During the wake for her father, she is visited by some men from her past that she seemingly has no recollection of, yet she feels a sense of familiarity and comfort with them. We learn that they were all on the children’s show Mister Magic thirty years ago. Val has mysteriously disappeared, and as the men share more details, we learn that Val’s father removed her from the show and lied about her mother, who Val is surprised to learn is still alive and living in Utah, where the group plans to head for a show reunion and podcast episode. Although she doesn’t remember much from this period in her life and seems to be suspicious about the outside world, Val decides to join the guys on their trip to the reunion hoping to reconnect with her mother and learn more about her past. She begins to doubt the history that her father has carefully cultivated and questions her own existence. Thus, the journey to Utah is also a quest for Val to learn more about her past, her identity, and her role on the show Mister Magic.

I don’t want to give much more away, but the story is unsettling as we learn more about Mister Magic, the show and the character, and how the show has been a part of American popular culture for nearly 100 years, starting as a radio program and eventually moving to television before some kind of unremembered tragedy forced Val to leave and the show’s removal from the airwaves and any kind of archives. Thus, the show survives solely through memory and word-of-mouth, creating both mystery and misunderstanding about its purpose and place in American childhood. I really liked this aspect of the graphic novel, since I think it takes the concept of nostalgia and memory and offers a kind of critique; the graphic novel also seems to critique the role of children’s shows and how they sometimes are capable of both exploitation of the actors and indoctrination of the audience. There’s an interesting subplot about the community that helped to create Mister Magic, and how they want to return to the idyls of the past when children were more obedient and values were more traditional and conservative. However, with the sudden shifts in narrative and plot lines, I found this aspect of the story a little harder to follow. It seemed that there were other subplots and characters that suddenly appeared and then disappeared for a time, not linking as well as they might in a narrative novel with some chapter headings to indicate whose perspective or story readers are following. Regardless, the story takes the creepypasta concept along with our interest in nostalgia for childhood and creates an uncanny and sense of unease as the characters learn more about the true nature of the show and their roles on it. I appreciated how each of the characters were distinct and had specific roles on the show but also struggled with their adult selves. Their journey, along with Val’s, to Utah for the reunion, podcast, or possibly something else seemed to enable them to not only better understand their past and the traumas their experienced, but also to better come to terms with their adult selves. I thought that this aspect of the story was also interesting and relevant, as this is something that most people experience to varying degrees.

While the artwork is excellent and the story has good moments, Mister Magic: The Graphic Novel can be a little challenging to follow since the story relies on various characters piecing together their pasts to understand the present. Although parts of the story are slowly revealed, I found it sometimes difficult to follow. I loved the online pages, emails, Wikipedia and reddit pages, but I wondered if having more traditional chapter breaks that might also include some omniscient narrating to provide more setting and context might have helped to clarify my own understanding. Regardless, this was a fun and interesting read, and if anything, it made me want to read the novel even more. Recommended!

 

 

Wide Sargasso Sea: Jean Rhys's Caribbean Gothic Postcolonial Novel

 Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Wide Sargasso Sea book cover

Author Jean Rhys

I can’t remember why exactly I bought this book, but I’m sure that part of the book was inspired by my vacation to Jamaica. I know, too, that I’ve come across the book previously, but as someone who never read Jane Eyre, it was not something that I studied or was familiar with in college. It may have been after I read Anna Biller’s excellent Bluebeard’s Castle, which pulls from both Bronte’s and Rhys’s narratives of the subjugation and gaslighting of women through marriage. Although I purchased this book before reading Tao Leigh Goffe’s excellent Dark Laboratories, her analysis of the book as a countertext to provide additional perspectives on the dominant views in canonical texts made me want to read Wide Sargasso Sea even more. It was also interesting to learn more about Rhys’ life and completion of the book over 20 years with Judith Raskin’s brief biography and background about the novel. Even though this is a brief novel, it was filled with ideas, allusions, and symbolism that kept me reading. I loved learning more about the history of Jamaica and Dominica, and how Rhys incorporated not only personal references, but the cultural and botanical references to the Caribbean throughout the book. At times, I felt that I could inhale the intoxicating floral aroma that emanates from the pages. This is the kind of book that I lost myself in reading as Rhys evokes a tropical paradise that also becomes a kind of prison for Antoinette Cosway, an heiress who lives in Jamaica shortly after the emancipation of those who were enslaved but is married off by her brother and is haunted by the fate of her mother who was institutionalized after the family was attacked and their estate burned.

The story takes place when Antoinette was younger on their plantation in Jamaica, shortly after emancipation. While the family was once wealthy, their estate has fallen into disrepair, which seems to be a common motif throughout the novel and creates a gothic feeling of decay and decadence. Antoinette’s mother is forced to remarry to improve the situation, but her new husband, Mr. Mason, is only looking to take advantage of the distressed property and woman. It’s not a marriage of love, but rather a power and land grab, which is another motif of the men in this story. Antoinette’s family is always viewed with suspicion among the emancipated people of Jamaica, and the threat of another plantation master returning results in their burning of the house, an attack on Antoinette, and the death of her younger brother, which eventually leads to extreme grief for Antoinette’s mother. Mr. Mason uses this episode of grief to have her institutionalized and sends Antoinette off to convent to study.

The second part of the story takes place during Antoinette’s honeymoon with her unnamed husband, but who is likely Rochester in Jane Eyre. This part of the book takes place in Dominica, where Antoinette’s mother is from, and is told from the unnamed husband’s perspective as well as Antoinette’s. This was my favorite part of the book, as it contrasts the beauty and idyls of the island with the subjugation and brutality that Antoinette experiences as the hands of her husband. Antoinette’s husband not only struggles to adapt to the way of life on the island, demonstrating his cultural incongruity, but Antoinette begins to develop doubts about her relationship to her husband, creating a sense of paranoia and fear that is only magnified by her family’s history of institutionalization. To further complicate the situation, there is a man who claims to be Antoinette’s half-brother, and he claims to be entitled to the property and money from the family. Throughout this section, we also learn more about the life of Christophine, Antoinette’s nurse from childhood, whose belief in Obeah, the traditional spiritual healing and magic system in Jamaica, arouses further suspicions between the couple. I loved the character of Christophine, as she seems to fight against the patriarchy and colonial mindset that Antoinette’s husband brings to the marriage and honeymoon. She also attempts to bring a sense of identity and independence to Antoinette, challenging her husband. It was fascinating to learn more about the Obeah practices and some of the ideas of zombis that were included in the texts and notes. Throughout this section, Rhys continues to develop this sense of decay and degradation that mirrors the relationship between Antoinette and her husband, especially as he begins to call her Bertha, changing her name and shifting her identity against her will.

The novel ends with the third and shortest part, where the couple journeys to England after the death of the husband’s father and brother and Antoinette renamed Bertha, thus further erasing her identity while imposing a new self on her. It’s a fascinating book that challenges the patriarchy and colonialism that were and continue to be a part of the history of the Caribbean, while also presenting countertexts that challenge the dominant view. By giving voice and life to “Bertha”, we not only learn about Rochester’s true nature, but we also learn more about the other women he’s silenced and taken advantage of throughout the years. Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea not only signifies on the classic Jane Eyre, but it highlights much of the racism, classism, sexism, and inequality that continue to exist today. Furthermore, it’s a haunting gothic tale that is both evocative and insightful. I also love this Norton Critical Edition, which has great notes and background information. I’m hoping to read some of the literary criticism about the text. Highly recommended! 

Red X: A Terrifying Hybrid of Horror and Memoir

 Red X by David Demchuk

Red X book cover

Author David Demchuk

Many thanks to Soho Press and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of David Demchuk’s truly haunting and frightening book Red X. The book is part novel and part memoir, examining how both systemic and social violence against the LGBTQ+ community in Toronto creates terror and horror for those who are marginalized in society. Furthermore, Demchuk uses the notorious serial murders in Toronto’s Gay Village between 2010 and 2017 to further explore how the LGBTQ+ community often experiences further institutional violence when disappearances are not investigated. It’s a fascinating and troubling examination of the kinds of skepticism, violence and the lack of voice and agency that some of us do not experience on a daily basis. If anything, Demchuk’s story generated considerable empathy in trying to understand the barriers and threats that many in the LGBTQ+ community face on a daily basis. Nevertheless, this book was challenging, disturbing, and gory, making for an engaging, but complicated read. I ended up appreciating this book, not only for the horror elements, but also for its unique development that includes a synthesis of horror, history, folklore, and social issues. I also recognize that this is not a book for everyone, especially due to the gore, violence, and the sheer terror that many of the characters experience throughout the book. Nevertheless, reading the book pays off in many ways, as readers gain a sense of empathy and understanding about how groups that are often marginalized and sometimes historically stigmatized face incredible challenges and barriers to being authentic and free, yet also find community and support among their own.

Red X begins with the founding of Toronto, and how the different regions within the city were divided among the different social classes and ethnicities that arrived in the city. Through this kind of historical overview, we see how the Gay Village was eventually established and how minorities were moved towards the fringes of the city, left to establish their own enclaves, which the Gay Village did with “a hodgepodge of bars, clubs, bathhouses and pubs, small shops and restaurants clustered around the intersection of Church and Wellesley.” The book takes place across nearly 40 years around the Gay Village, and starts with the mysterious disappearances of young gay men at the height of the AIDS epidemic, when little was known about the disease, yet much was speculated about its origins and transmissions. Demchuk not only reminds readers of the kind of social fear that AIDS brought with it but also mentions how popular films shaped some of nightmares and fears of the time, mentioning that Ghostbusters and A Nightmare on Elm Street were both released around the summer of 1984. I can see how both films factor into the story, where Ghostbusters deals with the invasion of terror and horror in a metropolis, with many unsure of why the dead are coming back to haunt the living. In many ways, it’s the absence of these missing men that haunt those who shared relationships, support, and friendships with them. While in Ghostbusters, a team assembles to fight against these supernatural powers, there’s no such support for Toronto’s LGBTQ+ community. In fact, readers learn how hostile law enforcement is towards the community, taking bribes to avoid busting the bars and bathhouses that provide a sense of camaraderie and acceptance to this marginalized community. However, it’s A Nightmare on Elm Street that shares more of the supernatural elements with Red X, as we learn that the force that is absorbing and feeding on these missing men can arrive in their dreams. Much like Freddy Krugar, who haunts the young of Springfield’s dreams as retribution against their parents, we learn that Nicholas, the shape shifting wolfman, who we learn is also a barghest, a kind of devil dog, haunts many of his victims and their loved ones in their sleep. Nicholas is truly one of the most terrifying monsters I’ve come across in books recently, with the ability prey on the marginalized by attacking their fears. He also reminded me a little of Pennywise from It in that he attacks those who are weak and marginalized, sometimes offering a form of respite and comfort. He also has the ability to shape shift and take on various forms.  Nevertheless, I loved Demchuk’s ability to incorporate history, folklore, and his own personal experiences of his early fears and emerging sexuality to further explore the kind of fear, isolation, and community that all are an integral part of this book.

Also like Pennywise, Nicholas seems to strike in 8-year intervals, which is when the book takes place, 1984, 1992, 2000, 2008, and 2016. Throughout the book, we learn about the various men who disappear, and about their own journeys from other regions in Canada and around the world, their fears and longings, and how Nicholas used this to engaging and eventually consume them. Nicholas also shares a book with his victims, encouraging them to write in it. The book is fascinating, as it contains the writings of others that Nicholas has encountered over time, and includes various languages and images that are not always clear to those who encounter it. The one thing that I wished about this book was that it would have included some examples from Nicholas’s book as it seemed like an odd, but compelling artifact from time. The book shows up and disappears from those who encounter it, and it is often described as possessing an odd, rotten smell, and also possibly appearing wet and rotten. This book, along with Nicholas’s appearances in random places at night, including dreams, often filled me with dread, but made me keep reading to learn more about what might happen to those with whom he comes into contact.

Each year in Red X focuses on specific men who disappear and their friends and loved ones’ attempts to locate them. Often the men leave behind their clothes or belongings, but no other trace of them remains. Since many of the men are marginalized, it sometimes takes days or weeks for others to notice their absences. I appreciated Demchuk using horror fiction as a way to highlight the kind of systemic inequality and violence that this community experiences, and how many times the violence and death that they experience is often explained away or blamed on their identities. It happened in Milwaukee with Jeffrey Dahmer’s victims, and  Demchuk notes how the victims of Bruce McArthur also experienced this kind of doubt, lack of investigation and resources into their disappearances and blame for their violent demise. It’s the blending of fact and fiction that creates a powerful narrative that does more than just tell a story, but highlights the kind of injustice and inequality that persists in society. Furthermore, Demchuk also includes his own reflections and experiences at the end of each 8-year period. At first, I found this somewhat intrusive, as it disrupted the narrative; however, as I read on, I appreciated his own insights into his fears, his complicated relationship with his parents and family, and his emerging sexual identity as a gay man, and how Toronto provided a sense of community for him. It was interesting to trace his identity development and see how he becomes more confident and secure in his sexual identity as the community grows and develops despite the continued threats and violence that it experiences. Furthermore, as the narrative moves towards 2016, Demchuk merges the fictional with his memoir, creating a hybrid horror story that was fascinating to read. Some of the characters who come into contact with the book and their missing loved ones in dreams reach out to Demchuk over Facebook to learn more about his research into folklore and mythological creatures like the barghests, creatures from Wales and Scotland, who served as a kind of death omen. I loved learning more about these creatures, and Demchuk uses this folklore in a creative way throughout the book.

Red X is definitely not a book for everyone, but I was glad that I found this book and that Soho Press decided to republish the book (it was originally published in 2021). I hope that more people will read it because it is a rewarding read. However, it does come with trigger warnings about the gore, terror, and violence, both physical and systemic, that the characters experience. Nevertheless, reading about this kind of violence and inequality made me more aware of the kinds of barriers and challenges that people in the LGBTQ+ community experience. Additionally, Red X is a great horror story that preys on many of our fears of isolation, rejection, and loneliness, while also creating a kind of hybrid narrative style that is unique to horror. Highly recommended!