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! 

Bust A Move: The Story of Delicious Vinyl Records and Its Impact on Hip-Hop and Popular Music

 Bust a Move: Matt Dike, Delicious Vinyl, and the Hip-Hop Hits That First Conquered Pop by Peter Relic

Bust a Move book cover

Author Peter Relic

Big props to Kensington Publishing and NetGalley for sharing Peter Relic’s amazingly entertaining and detailed history of the Delicious Vinyl Record Label, Bust A Move: Matt Dike, Delicious Vinyl, and the Hip-Hop Hits That First Conquered Pop. I was so excited to read this book, and Relic’s research and crate digging through the scattered bins of hip-hop history has pieced together one of the most entertaining and astute books about how Matt Dike and Mike Ross helped to craft funky, fly beats to propel hip-hop for the pop charts. For those who don’t know, Delicious Vinyl was one of the more popular record labels from the late 80s through the mid-90s that produced some of the most popular and iconic hip-hop songs that are still played today (Tone Loc, Young MC), at a time when hip-hop was not perceived as pop worthy. This book traces the history of the label’s founders, Matt Dike, and Michael Ross, how they met and moved from DJing in NYC to LA at some of the most popular clubs in the early 80s. Furthermore, it examines the early challenges Delicious Vinyl faced as an independent hip-hop label, as well as how they used the low overhead to produce hip-hop beats in the pre-sample clearing 80s to craft a unique, funky sound with obscure loops and samples. Relic’s relentless pursuit and documentation of the label’s founding and apex (and its eventual demise) is not only because he’s a music fan interested in how two white guys helped to usher in a more popular form of West Coast hip-hop, but also because the history of Delicious Vinyl Records also involves the mystery and enigma of Matt Dike, who despite the success of his early records seemed to gradually disengage from the label as it gained more prominence in the record industry. While notable producers like Rick Rubin moved from hip-hop to metal and rock, Dike gradually faded from his label, allowing Michael Ross and others to direct the trajectory of the label, signing bands like The Brand New Heavies and The Pharcyde, but also missing out on some other projects. Matt Dike, who also contributed to the beats and sound of The Beastie Boys’ classic Paul’s Boutique, became something of a phantom, never involved with music again before his death from cancer in 2018. Relic’s book also tries to unravel the mystery of Matt Dike, looking for answers as to why someone who helped to sonically define hip-hop’s 80s and early 90s radio sound never worked on other albums.

Relic’s book is not just a history, but rather a wild ride in through the annals of hip-hop. Like all hip-hop histories, this ride goes through NYC before eventually landing in LA. However, Relic pieces together the winding journey of an unlikely Jehovah’s Witness from upstate New York who became one of the most popular underground club DJs in New York and LA, who not only hung around with Basquiat but also contributed to John Hughes’ soundtracks (Uncle Buck). Relic’s narrative doesn’t follow a straight express track, but rather takes the local route sometimes diverting down other pathways that allow readers to better understand how much of a network Matt Dike established in art, music, and the underground club scene through his DJing. It was fascinating to learn about the connections Dike developed and how beloved his DJ sets were at places like Power Tools and The Rhythm Lounge. I loved reading about his vast record collection that eventually buckled his floor with its weight. The book is filled with plenty of these observations and recollections by those who knew Dike. Although Dike became something of a recluse, a kind of stoned Norma Desmond who seemed to be perpetually planning his next LP, Relic’s writing resurrects this fascinating character whose passion and knowledge of music not only moved the crowds but also brought hip-hop to a larger audience.

The book is divided into 3 parts that pretty much examine before Delicious Vinyl (Part One), the creation and hey-day and gradual demise of Delicious Vinyl (Part Two), and the slow disappearance of Matt Dike (Part Three). Relic includes some modern episodes throughout to allow readers to better understand how much of an enigma Matt Dike’s disappearance is as compared to other record producers, label founders, and other creative types who helped to shape hip-hop’s popular sound. Nevertheless, his research and reporting provide a fascinating look into various scenes and how hip-hop moved from NYC to LA, and how Matt Dike and the Dust Brothers EZ Mike (Michael Simpson) and King Gizmo (John King), two college DJs, shifted the West Coast sound from electro to incorporate more vintage sampled beats and sounds. I previously read Dan LeRoy’s 33 1/3 book on Paul’s Boutique, where he presents the unique recording conditions, recorded in Matt Dike’s apartment turned studio. Although Relic’s book relies on some of the same episodes from LeRoy’s research, Relic covers other artists involved in Delicious Vinyl. Most interestingly, Dike converted a closet into the vocal booth, so I was familiar with this tidbit, but it was interesting to learn more about how much of a creative supporter and collaborator he was in shaping some of the lyrics and rhymes on the album, largely from his love of the first Beastie’s album, Licensed to Ill. 

Some of my favorite revelations from the book were that Mellow Man Ace was set to be one of the first Delicious Vinyl artists, but was eventually signed over to Capitol Records. I loved this album when I was younger and remember how cool the beats and samples were, as well as how Mellow Man Ace rapped in Spanish and English, something that wasn’t happening frequently in hip-hop at the time. The Delicious Vinyl crew helped produce and record the album, encouraging Mellow Man Ace to develop his own flow. I remember seeing the album insert, including a sign that pointed to Havana and Cypress Hill, who were related to Mellow Man Ace and were part of his early crew. B-Real writes the foreword for the book, sharing his own recollections of the recording of that album and how hanging around the Delicious Vinyl studios encouraged him to develop his own unique sound. These are the kinds of hip-hop networks that Delicious Vinyl helped to encourage that served as an funky alternative to the electro- and gangsta rap that was coming out of LA. It was also interesting to learn more about Young MC, who served as the kind of in-house writer for many of the hits on Delicious Vinyl. Young MC, who had his own hits with “Bust a Move” and “Principal’s Office”, also wrote “Wild Thing” and “Funky Cold Medina”. Others who were involved with Delicious Vinyl described Young MC as a kind of machine who could pump out narrative raps in a short amount of time. Although he was a student at USC when he ended up working with the Delicious Vinyl crew, some of Young’s raps were written when he was in middle school (like “Principal’s Office”). It enjoyed learning more about his path to hip-hop, as well as how his style kind of contrasted with Tone Loc’s laid-back partying style. There are many other great stories that Relic has gathered and organized into a neat narrative about how hip-hop evolved with the help of radio play and videos, and how Tamara Davis, who went on to make films like CB4 and Billy Madison, was instrumental in shaping the visuals that became an integral part of the Delicious Vinyl brand. I forgot that the video for “Wild Thing” was a play on Robert Palmer’s “Addicted to Love” video, so it was fun to revisit these memories from back in the day.

Although Young MC’s rhymes and Matt Dike and the Dust Brothers’ beats drove much of the early and unanticipated success of Delicious Vinyl, it also brought about their demise. Paul’s Boutique, although released on Capitol, largely flopped and took years for a critical reexamination. Other artists, like Mellow Man Ace, signed to other labels. Delicious Vinyl signed a deal with Island Records that provided them with some cash but did not help them out with royalties. Young MC also felt that he was undercompensated and sued Delicious Vinyl, ultimately leaving the label and releasing his second album on Capitol Records. There’s a lot of speculation about the beats that were ready for Young MC’s second album, but the release on Capitol did not sell well. When combined with the shift in clearing samples, which Delicious Vinyl relied on for their sound, the label struggled to promote new acts in hip-hop, turning eventually to acid jazz like the Brand New Heavies and even metal with Masters of Reality, a band originally signed to Def American, Rick Rubin’s rock label. As the label shifted priorities to try to keep up with the evolving world of hip-hop and popular music, Matt Dike stopped showing up for work, but made his presence known with after-hour visits and notes left on artwork and records. Relic’s reporting suggests that Dike developed a drug habit and an attempted intervention with Rick Rubin and Michael Ross seemed to drive Dike further into isolation. Relic’s relentless pursuit of Matt Dike leads to a late-night visit and interview at Dike’s home, and it is one of the most fascinating chapters in this book.

This was such a great book, especially for fans of music and hip-hop. It ranks among the best music books I’ve read and provides a unique insight into the evolution of hip-hop, as it moved from the underground to the mainstream. Peter Relic spins an engaging narrative about how music lovers converged in New York and LA to remix the sound of popular music. Highly recommended! 

An Illustrated Retelling of The Odyssey

 Homer's Odyssey: An Illustrated Retelling by Barry B. Powell; illustrations by 

Homer's Odyssey book cover

Classical scholar and author Barry B. Powell

Artist Joanna Lisowiec

Many thanks to Clarkson Potter/ten Speed Press and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Homer’s Odyssey: An Illustrated Retelling by Barry B. Powell with illustrations by Joanna Lisowiec. Despite being one of the oldest surviving epics from a story that is over 2000 years old, The Odyssey remains one of the most popular tales today. It’s regularly a part of curricula from elementary through college. I’ve not only encountered this epic in grade school but also studied it in college and taught sections of the epic in classrooms. It’s one of those texts that, for me, never grows old and always has something new to offer each time I read a new translation or version of the story. Barry B. Powell has created an accessible and engaging translation with attractive woodcut illustrations by Joanna Lisowiec to highlight the adventures of Ithaca’s wily warrior king, Odysseus, as he looks to return from the Trojan War. It’s great to see a new version like this since it can appeal to younger readers (like adolescents) and others who might want to explore the original story especially as this summer sees the release of an epic big screen adaptation of the classic tale.

I read an e-text version, but I would imagine that having a hardback or paperback version with the color illustrations would be appealing. The chapters aren’t too long, and the prose is clear with enough detail and imagery to stoke readers’ imaginations. It’s not overly poetic, but Odysseus’ adventures are presented in a narrative, novel type form, which is probably more accessible for modern readers who most likely are not as familiar with this epic’s poetic form. Nevertheless, I was a little surprised (in a good way) at some of the violent descriptions of the monsters (notably the Polyphemus, the cyclops) and the battle with the suitors at the end. It’s been a while since I’ve read the entire Odyssey, but this version has some interesting descriptions of the violent battle that ensues once Odysseus reveals himself to the suitors of his wife, Penelope.

In the past, I’ve been drawn to Odysseus’ adventures journeying back from Troy and the challenges and mythical monsters and beings he encounters on his trip. This book includes those parts of the journey, but I was more aware of Telemachus’ journey to find his father and his own struggles with taking on the role of the man of the house (or kingdom in this case). I’m not sure if this book pays more attention to Telemachus’ struggles with the suitors and his own angst and doubts as he misses his father and attempts to be a good son, but it was interesting to see how much Telemachus is challenged by the suitors and their exploitation of Greek hospitality. Despite Odysseus’ 20 year absence in trying to return to Ithaca, it’s good to see that Telemachus has others within his family to fill the void and support him as he grows into his manhood. Mentor (who is actually Athena), Eumaeus, and Kings Nestor and Menelaus all play a role in helping Telemachus navigate this difficult time trying to grow up without a father. Conversely, I also don’t remember a lot about the suitors from prior readings, and this version presented some of the wickedness of the suitors and their plot against Telemachus and attempts to win over Penelope. They are presented as truly bad guys who take advantage of Penelope and Telemachus’ hospitality, only to meet their comeuppance once Odysseus returns and reveals himself.

This is a good version of a classic tale, and I would recommend it for anyone who wants to experience the classic, but in a more modern version. Furthermore, the creative and alluring woodcut illustrations by Lisowiec add to the story and readers’ understanding. Recommended!

Are you a Centaur or a Reverse Centaur? Critically Examining AI in The Reverse Centaur's Guide to Life After AI

 The Reverse Centaur's Guide to Life After AI: How to Think About Artificial Intelligence- Before It's Too Late by Cory Doctorow

The Reverse Centaur's Guide to Life After AI  book cover

Author and Centaur Cory Doctorow

Many thanks to Farrar, Straus, and Giroux and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Cory Doctorow’s timely and important new book The Reverse Centaur’s Guide to Life After AI: How to Think About Artificial Intelligence- Before It’s Too Late. I was excited to find this book, especially less than a year after Doctorow’s excellent book Enshittification was published that details the various ways that tech companies and especially digital platforms offer less or worse service for higher premiums and fees over time. The Reverse Centaur’s Guide to Life After AI also takes a critical look at the ways in which AI threatens to enshittify different areas of our lives if we buy into the hype and wild claims about it’s disruptive capabilities. If anything, The Reverse Centaur’s Guide… is truly a guide for how to manage expectations and reject both the overhyped proclamations of AI companies and the doomsayers’ nihilism and fears about a robopocalypse. Even more importantly, Doctorow highlights the impact of AI on different sectors of life, focusing especially on how AI consumes massive amounts of energy, water and other resources, for little in return. It’s an important book since AI is a major topic in so many fields, but it’s even more important to have this kind of critical perspective that examines how AI fits into other technological innovations and updates that have threatened to disrupt and change the ways we work, read, communicate, and experience entertainment.

Doctorow uses the idea of a centaur to explain how we can either use technology in our lives, or how technology can use us. For Doctorow, we should all be centaurs in our technology use. Centaurs are mythological creatures that have the torse and head of men but have the legs of a horse. When we use technology to our benefit or when we are assisted by technology, we are centaurs. He uses the example of driving a car or wearing hearing aids and using a calculator. We are in control of our use of technology to assist us in tasks. However, a reverse centaur is someone who is forced to assist a machine to manage its tasks or who are surveilled by machines to meet certain quotas for efficiency. Doctorow uses the famous I Love Lucy Episode where Lucy and Ethel work on the chocolate assembly line and struggle to keep up as the pace increases. He likens this to other major corporations that monitor driving and warehouse work that often limit bathroom breaks, surveilling and managing time and efforts to where humans are used up by machines. Thus, it’s clear that Doctorow is no luddite, and that he believes in technology and recognizes the various ways it enhances our lives. He’s also not against AI, as he notes a particularly useful application from an open source program that was able to transcribe massive amounts of audio data to find a quote from a podcast he was looking for. However, what Doctorow does oppose is the use of technology, and especially AI, to exploit workers, whether it is through the threats to their jobs, surveillance pricing and wagering, and its exploitation in the creative arts (visual arts, music, and even writing). Doctorow presents these ideas by examining the AI bubble before it arrived, where we currently are in the bubble, and looking at other bubbles that have burst, and considering how we can avoid the consequences of other similar bursts to jobs and the economy. I appreciated this perspective, especially since we tend to think of AI as a new technology that has only recently appeared, but he provides some instances of automation that people have promoted, and many times, there have been ulterior motives for the idea of automation. AI is no different where Doctorow examines the ways that promises and predictions are often presented as truths and capabilities. This kind of hype for the exaggerated possibilities and potentials leads investors to speculate on futures, driving up the stock value of companies. It’s that kind of speculation that enables prompts other companies to wade out into these new technologies. He cites notable failures like Google +, a failed social media venture from Google, and the Facebook’s failed attempt to pivot to video. In these instances, Doctorow examines how the companies latched on to new trends in technology, but manipulated the metrics or even the access to present a much more optimistic view of these technologies to attract more investors, where they can redistribute their money within their original company. It allows the company’s reputation to grow on promises, but not on actual delivery or outcomes. Doctorow notes similar practices with AI companies that allow them to promote possibilities and potential but not actually deliver.

The Bubble section explores these some of these possibilities, and more importantly to recognize the threats and implications and consequences that arise from the ways that AI is being pitched to major corporations. Most notably, Doctorow explores how AI’s promise to replace workers is something that corporate overlords salivate after. While this does seem to be a constant threat and something that we’re reminded of repeatedly with AI speculation, Doctorow provides several examples of AI that have never panned out. Whether it involves Wendy’s or Delta Airlines attempting to implement surveillance and/or surge pricing only to backtrack or instances of self-driving cars being flummoxed by cones placed on their hood or dragging pedestrians for considerable distances before stopping, there are many of the examples of implementations that failed to meet the hype or caused considerable backlash from local communities. And yet, due to the Byzantine Premium, when investors place extra value on an asset they don’t understand, the hype continues to outweigh the failures and investors continue to pour money into AI start-ups. Doctorow also reminds us of Stein’s Law, that reminds us that everything that cannot go on forever will eventually stop, and Doctorow provides suggestions that the hype and promises that have failed to materialize for AI indicate that there can only be so much innovation, leading to the eventual bubble bursting, which he argues “this will not be a good day. Remember: seven giant AI companies account for 35 percent of the U.S. stock market.”

There are a lot of other important predecessors that AI has followed a kind of blueprint for to amaze potential investors, from the Mechanical Turk, an 18^th century automaton that was touted to play chess when it was really controlled by someone inside the machine, to more recent examples from 2021’s dancing Tesla Bot that was revealed to be a human in a robot suit to a robot bartender that was revealed to have a tele-operator. Amazingly, Doctorow also elicits some empathy for call center workers, who have been some of the first to experience job loss from AI chatbots, only to be frequently rehired. One of the most frightening areas that Doctorow documents AI’s creeping influence is in healthcare, where AI agents surveil contract nurses and offer jobs at lower rates to nurse’s with lower credit scores (with higher debt). As a field that requires continuing education and rewards advanced degrees while also requiring passing rigorous certification exams, it makes sense that nurses would probably have more loan debt than some other fields, but the idea that health care companies are partnering with AI technology firms to cut costs on care and staffing is wrong on many different levels. Doctorow also finds examples of radiologists and other specialists whose skills and training have been supplanted by AI reviews of scans and other reports. The findings indicate that serving as a reverse centaur to the AI review, that is reviewing the AI findings, has diminished the accuracy of these health care specialists to a large extent in the same way that other areas like TSA workers have shown diminished results, or an accountability sink, in spotting positive results when AI misses them.

I also appreciated Doctorow’s notes about AI and creativity, noting how AI art lacks a soul and does not deserve copyrighting. He gets a little in the weeds about the history of copyright law and how it applies to artists, while also examining how studios, record labels, and other large corporations have exploited copyright laws to benefit themselves over artists, but Doctorow seems clear in his argument against AI art. He also offers hope and a sense of community to push back against all of the hype and false promises of AI. He uses the Writer’s Guild strike from 2023. As he notes, the Writer’s Guild banded together to fight against AI replacing writers. They didn’t push against AI in totality but rather to replace writers and being able to use AI as needed. It’s this sense of strength in numbers, aligned with pushing back against dehumanizing and fear mongering that AI companies are stressing to hype up their products. While I’ll need to go back and re-read some of the chapters, this is an important and timely book; one that will provide a deeper dive into a wildly misunderstood technology and topic. It’s also important to check out the facts and details now,  since there’s probably a good segment of the population using AI somewhat mindlessly and without much intention beyond entertainment or completing tasks quickly. I was amazed at the depth and breadth of this book, while also being relatively brief. Doctorow covers a lot of history and uses many different familiar (and often humorous) examples to make the complicated elements of AI technology and its business models more familiar and comprehensible. Highly recommended!

Confronting Harsh Realities in Joyce Carol Oates' The Frenzy: Stories

 The Frenzy: Stories by Joyce Carol Oates

The Frenzy book cover

Author Joyce Carol Oates

A frenzy is a state of heightened, wild, and uncontrollable emotion, often marked by a loss of reason. It’s a feeling of emotional angst and instability that often manifests in violent, chaotic behavior that usually leaves some kind of destruction, whether it is emotional wreckage, reputational harm, or even physical injuries. Joyce Carol Oates’ latest collection of stories not only uses The Frenzy as a title, but many of the characters experience a kind of frenzied state as a result of their relationships and interactions. I am grateful to Random House and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of this harrowing and haunting collection of stories. I’ve only read a few of the well-known, anthologized stories from Oates, so I wasn’t completely prepared for how unsettling some of these stories were; however, while this is a dark collection of stories, it is rewarding for those readers who enjoy being knocked or rocked off of our sense of security by both sudden events or the slow and gradual release of more information that eventually leads to a kind of peripeteia where characters experience a reverse of fortune due their prior acts, whether these are acts of omission, ignorance, or relational violence. Although these stories have that tragic structure in place, there’s almost no catharsis in these stories since many of the characters are unlikeable. Rather they sometimes experience a sense of cosmic irony, where the character seems to get what they deserve (“The Frenzy” and “The Bicycle Accident”). Other stories feature characters who struggle with changes and accepting their fates (“The Redwoods”, “Refuge”, and “Night Fishing at Antibes”). Yet, all of these characters either experience their own sense of frenzy or are forced to navigate a kind of frenzy from a loved one that eventually brings about a revelation to their relationships. The Frenzy is a collection of domestic horror stories—stories that are not supernatural, but feature horrific and monstrous people who engage in troubling and destructive behavior. I wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction to this book, but Joyce Carol Oates clearly struck a nerve in me with these stories.

The stories are generally longer short stories, which allows for some development of characters and in some cases considerable time to pass. I loved this aspect of the book, as the extended character development allows for a deeper sense of irony when these characters experience their peripeteia, or reversal of fortune. “The Frenzy”, which is the first story in the collection, starts the collection off strong and features a husband and father who absconds to Cape May, NJ with his much younger “mistress”, who was a few years older than his daughter. Although the shore town is somewhat deserted during the winter, Cassidy keeps thinking about an experience he had on a boat in Rhode Island, watching a feeding frenzy, where plankton attract smaller fish, which attract larger fish, and eventually apex predators. It’s a scene that’s revisited later in the story and serves as an effective metaphor and foreshadowing event for Cassidy’s relationship with the younger Brianna. I was shocked by the ending, and this story engaged me for the rest of the book.

“The Fear” is another interesting story that spends time charting the relationship between two cousins, Juliet and Janette, who are close in age and grow up together and celebrate birthdays and holidays together until Juliet is mysteriously absent from Janette’s sixth birthday. Oates effectively captures the uncertainty and ignorance of childhood as the adults shield Janette from Juliet’s cancer diagnosis, which wreaks havoc on Juliet’s social life in school and her appearance, due to reconstructive surgeries. This was one of the more harrowing stories, not only because it deals with childhood illness, but also because of how Janette struggles with her own feelings and needs for attention and emotional assurance. As Juliet’s illness, surgeries, and recovery demands more caregiving from her family, Janette experiences a kind of withdrawal of emotions and struggles with her own feelings. As someone who has served as a loved one’s caregiver during cancer, I can appreciate the conflicted feelings Janette experienced as she navigates the dissonance between her concern and care for Juliet and her own feelings of resentment and the desire for attention that all kids experience.

“The Bicycle Accident” was another harrowing read focusing on how a bicycle accident during a family reception completely changes the trajectory a family’s life. However, the bicycle accident is more of a response to Evie’s parents’ (Arlette and Kevin’s) hamartia, their fatal flaws in judgement and awareness of a family friend, that leads Evie to gradually disconnect from their family. While most of the events take place before and after Evie’s accident, tracing her recovery and her pushing the boundaries of adolescent independence, the story skips ahead into Evie’s adulthood and Arlette’s eventual move into an assisted living home. This story also has a reversal of fortunes and roles where caregiving and receiving are ironically transposed.

The second group of stories, “The Call”, “The Return”, and “The Redwoods” all have to do with death and relationships. “The Call” is one of the shorter stories in this collection, and S., the main character who is a daughter, wife and mother, is informed that her father has died in a hospital, yet she is sure that her father has been dead for years.  S. tries to make sense of this call and the events of her life, including caring for her elderly parents. “The Return” is about a writer who visits her friend, a recent widow for the second time, after the pandemic restrictions have eased. As she visits the house, she realizes how the house has fallen into disrepair since the death of her friend’s husband, Thad, a well-known professor and writer. This issue of disrepair and an inability to keep up physical property is another theme throughout the book, as characters seem to lack the ability to maintain their surroundings and in some cases themselves after experiencing loss or tragedy. Like the character of Janette in “The Fear”, this narrator is also struggling to come to terms with her friend’s loss; however, while Janette is young, the narrator and her friend are both older, facing the same kind of existential questions that Thad experienced before he died, and this leads the narrator to some revelations as she notices some unsettling evidence around the home. “The Redwoods” stands out as a kind of ghost story, but it’s also about a man (Jake) who is haunted by a chance encounter during a hike in his early 20s. Jake seems to be unable to let go of the regret in not talking more to a woman he encountered with a partner on a hike, and this chance encounter has seemingly haunted him until his early death in his 50s. He is able to return to his family, but is unable to communicate with them, just as he was largely unable to communicate with them while he was alive, always regretting his inaction on the trail. Again, we see a character whose hamartia both haunts and punishes him not only for his lifetime, but his afterlife as well. We also see how this fatal flaw of Jake’s punishes his family as well.

 

The third and final section of stories all see to deal with marriages, but these themes of illness, regret, and frenzied reactions to stress and traumatic events carry across all of the stories. “Small Veins” is another brief story that details a woman receiving a blood test after her husband has died. She seems to anticipate a disease or illness, but it might just be her own mental malaise that causes her distress and angst. “Refuge” was another disturbing story about a woman whose husband has disappeared for nearly two months, until she receives a frantic call from him that leaves some clues to his whereabouts. Prior to the call, we learn more about their marriage and the kinds of accommodations she makes to feel love for her husband, while he fails to reciprocate. Her quest to find him, mirrored by her questions surrounding the puppy that they adopted who also has gone missing, also allow us to learn more about the tensions and inequities in their relationship. While Marcus, the husband, has sought refuge in a Buddhist monastery, he doesn’t seem to have found the kind of zen enlightenment we most associate with Buddhism. The book ends with “Night Fishing at Antibes”, which deals with a widow’s adaptation to life without her husband. Zahira struggles to find a sense of rhythm and purpose without her husband, Herman, who was a scientist at an institute for advanced study. Another recent widow, Meghan, attempts to pull Zahira out of her drudgery, but Zahira misses her marriage and struggles to adapt to this new kind of relationship. Zahira is surrounded by either widows who struggle to maintain their homes or seemingly happy families and marriages, where spouses care for one another. Zahira thinks back to a fleeting encounter she had with one of her husband’s colleagues, Illya, who showed interest in her despite Zahira not reciprocating. While Illya is a renowned scientist, he is much older than Zahira. Eventually Zahira and her new friend, Meghan, visit Illya and his wife, Hester, for lunch as Illya is recovering from several surgeries. Zahira attends the luncheon after years prior rejecting Illya’s lunch date, with the hope that Illya may still show some affection for Zahira. However, the lunch devolves into a manic and frantic episode for both Hester and Illya, possibly showing Zahira that maybe she’s better off without a husband, or at least a husband like Illya.

These stories are disturbing and unsettling, but the are also incredible and instructive. I could see using some of these stories in an intro to lit class, although many of the stories are dark and unsettling. Maybe there’s another kind of modern gothic or domestic horror lit class that these stories would fit. As I was reading them, I can see how Oates’ work resonates with writers like Stephen King, who has moved from supernatural horrors to the kinds of horrors that represent the banality of evil, that we may experience in our everyday lives. Furthermore, Oates’ stories all touch on topics that we can never escape: health, relationships, aging and time. In fact, the last story uses Picasso’s painting “Night Fishing at Antibes” as a kind of metaphor for staving off the ravages of time and maintaining a sense of integrity while aging. Illya, the aging scientist near death, reminds his visitors of Einstein’s contradictions when he says “Einstein certainly knew that in fact there is only time: the hourglass that runs in one direction only.” It’s a reminder to recognize that change and adaptation are natural parts of life. I also loved that many of the stories in this book take place in Central Jersey, Bucks County, PA and other areas around the Delaware River, areas I am familiar with. I highly recommend this collection, but it is a collection of stories that will challenge readers’ thinking and comfort, confronting us with some of the monstrous and horrid eventualities of life, rather than running towards the warm embrace of delusions and ignorance.  Many thanks to Random House and NetGalley for sharing this advanced copy.