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

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

End Times Fascism book cover

Author and journalist Naomi Klein

Author and filmmaker Astra Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

MrBallen Presents: The Terror Within cover

Podcaster MrBallen

Artist Andrea Mutti

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

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

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

The Spine of the Land a Truly Graphic Novel

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

The Spine of the Land cover

Author Jason Krawcyzk

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

Examining Linguicide and Revival in How to Kill a Language

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

How to Kill a Language book cover

Author and journalist Sophia Smith Galer

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

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

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

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

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

 Music Against the Night by Yiyun Li

Music Against the Night book cover

Author Yiyun Li

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

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

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

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

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

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

Examining the Significance and Controversies of Paul Simon's Graceland (33 1/3)

 Paul Simon's Graceland (33 1/3 Africa) by Kalvin Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh 

Paul Simon's Graceland cover

Author Kalvin Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh

Many thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of one of the latest entries into the 33 1/3 series. As the series has expanded to focus on music from different regions of the world, this entry is from the Africa series and focuses on Paul Simon’s Graceland. Although the album is by a famed American musician, Paul Simon, Graceland remains an iconic and celebratory album for featuring many African and specifically South African musicians who were not well known to many American audiences due to the restrictions imposed on South Africa’s apartheid government and the not-yet invented genre of “world music”. In fact, as author Kalvin Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh examines the album, Graceland was largely responsible for helping to popularize this genre that incorporated music from other countries, which often featured traditional instruments, cultural melodies and rhythms, and lyrics frequently song in languages other than English. Although Graceland is often celebrated as a landmark album, Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh explores some of the questionable practices that Simon engaged in to take full writing credits and denying royalties to many of the musicians who collaborated on the album and were integral to shaping the sound. As a result, Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh provides a critical analysis of the creation and content of the album, providing readers (and listeners) with a well-rounded view of the plaudits and problems with this iconic 80s album.

While I’m not a huge Paul Simon fan, I do remember this album and having a copy of the cassette that I obtained from the Columbia House Record Club (a penny for 12 tapes). The album wasn’t one of my favorites from that collection, but I loved “You Can Call Me Al” and many of the songs were unlike other music that I was familiar with. Just as Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh explains, this album was much different from Simon’s other music and much of the music that was popular during the 1980s. However, Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh provides some examples of Simon’s own forays into genre music, with a reggae themed album in the early 1970s that enlisted Jimmy Cliff’s band and resulted in a hit song “Mother and Child Reunion”. I enjoyed learning that Simon struggled with adapting to the rhythms of reggae and seemed challenged by the Jamaican musicians he worked with. While it shows that Simon was exploratory and experimental, it also possibly demonstrates his potential to appropriate music from other cultures to sell records, a charge that Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh revisits in the later chapters of the book after Graceland’s release.

In addition, I didn’t know that Paul Simon was married to Carrie Fisher, and that Graceland was the album that followed his divorce from the actress. As Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh mentions, the divorce left Simon rather dejected and depressed, and it was through a friend sending him some zydeco and accordion music that piqued Simon’s interest in the music of South Africa. While Simon sought to learn more about the music of South Africa, it’s important to remember that artists were largely not allowed to perform there due to its apartheid system of government. In fact, many businesses also boycotted South Africa, so Simon had to figure out how to work with these musicians. In any event, he was able to establish a diverse group of musicians not just from South Africa, but from other African nations who were able to contribute to the sound of the album.

Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh then goes to explore the album’s tracks and analyze the lyrical and musical content. I appreciated this analysis as Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh takes the time to not just examine the lyrical content (despite not having copyright access to the lyrics), but also the rhythms, melodies, and other musical components of the tracks to provide an in depth and detailed analysis of the music. Furthermore, Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh also analyzes the cover art work, which is a 15^th century image of Saint George, from Ethiopia. Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh explores the significance of this choice to represent an Ethiopian artist on the cover, but also a Christian saint who is largely represented and symbolic for many different cultures and countries, providing a kind of global appeal to many different audiences.

While Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh explores the cultural significance of the album, he also notes the controversy in the album as its recording process violated the boycott of working in South Africa, although Simon claimed he was supporting and working with the artists and not the government. What was more troubling, though, was that Simon selectively shared songwriting credits on some of the tracks, but kept sole writing credits for most of the songs on the album. This caused some friction with some of the musicians who claimed that their music and compositions largely crafted the sound and lyrical content of the songs, as Simon would often pen lyrics after the music was finished. In particular, Los Lobos, who didn’t perform on the album, claimed that they worked in the studio to generate ideas, but were ultimately not included in the final recording; however, part of their music was used in one of the songs, which resulted in some hard feelings for the band. It’s hard to imagine that Los Lobos, who were not well known at the time, would challenge a major artist like Paul Simon, but Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh’s reporting shows how Simon used the large record company system to his benefit to create this album. It left me somewhat cynical about this album; while I recognize its importance in widening the scope and sound of world artists, helping to usher in and bring attention to artists from different cultures and countries, it does seem like Simon took advantage of the system that rewards famous artists and didn’t necessarily compensate the artists he collaborated with appropriately. While Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh notes that many of the artists were able to tour with Simon and eventually establish recording contracts and tours of their own, it still seems like they were largely left out of the benefits from a culturally significant album like Graceland.

I enjoyed reading this entry into the 33 1/3 series, and Schmidt-Rimpler Dinh’s analysis of all facets of the album- from composition to rhythm and lyrics and its controversies- helped me appreciate and re-evaluate the album. Recommended!  

A Great Book for Summer Vacation- Don't Go There: A Tour of the World's Most Sinister Spots

 Don't Go There: A Tour of the World's Most Sinister Spots by J. W. Ocker

Don't Go There book cover

Traveler and author J. W. Ocker

Many thanks to Quirk Books and NetGalley for allowing me to read an advanced copy of J.W Ocker’s latest entry into eerie-themed tourism Don’t Go There: A Tour of the World’s Most Sinister Spots. I’ve previously read Ocker’s The United States of Cryptids, where he explores each state’s unique creature or cryptid, and Cult Following, where details some of the most notorious cults from recent times, and explores the psychology of those who joint the cults. Don’t Go There is like both books in that Ocker explores areas and locations around the world and dives into the history, events, and culture that have created a sense of fear, dread, and curiosity about some of these spaces. Ocker’s writing is more than just informational in that he provides detailed descriptions and narrative like insight into the events that led to these areas becoming cursed or haunted, adapting the history to something more entertaining and engaging, while also keeping a skeptical perspective on the rational explanations behind the mysteries and unexplained phenomena related to these places.

Ocker organizes the areas into different groups: Fearsome Forests, Wretched Waters, Insane Islands, Deadly Deserts, Risky Ruins, and Spooky Snowscapes, and provides a useful list for further reading. I appreciated this organization as he is able to draw some parallels between the environments or conditions that helped lead to these issues. I really appreciated the fact that he’s writing about some of the places that I’ve always wanted to visit, including Centralia, PA, which I’ve been obsessed with since first reading about it more than 20 years ago. This was one of the places that Ocker has actually visited, so it was interesting to read about his own experiences and observations while visiting this town famous for its underground fire that continues to burn. While Centralia has a natural explanation for its infernal reputation, other places remain the subject of public curiosity because of mysterious events tied to their location. These include places like The Pine Barrens in NJ, Skinwalker Rance in Utah, Mount Shasta in CA, and the Bermuda Triangle. Ocker details the legends, myths, and strange events associated with these places, and often offers rational explanations for the events. Other possibly lesser known places are also of interest including Aokigahara, the Bridgewater Triangle, Isla de las Muñecas, and Dudleytown. I loved learning about these places, and since I’ll probably never be able to visit the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, it’s interesting to read more about it and how the nuclear accident has created interesting conditions for new plants and animals to grow, and fueled urban legends and a new kind of tourism industry in exploring this site. I also recently visited Paris and was disappointed to learn that the catacombs were closed when we visited. Not that my family would join me in exploring this underground necropolis, but Ocker’s reporting and descriptive history provides some further insight into how and why these bones were moved underground and arranged in such a manner. It was also fascinating to learn that groups of individuals were using the catacombs for secret parties until they were eventually busted.

This is a great book for those who are interested in mysterious places. I’m always interested in unexplained phenomena, and Ocker’s book not only provides insightful research into these areas, but also offers rational explanations that allow us to remain skeptical and offer plausible reasons for these irreputable retreats. Although Adam Parata provides great illustrations throughout the book that contribute to its eerie feel, I wish there were some real photographs of these places that were included in the book. Nevertheless, this is a fun and insightful read, especially for getting some travel ideas and possibly ignoring Ocker’s plea to Don’t Go There. Highly recommended!