Smoking Toad for Higher Consciousness: The Ego Trip by Kimon de Greef

 The Ego Trip: Psychedelic Toads, a Trail of Deaths, and the Guru Who Peddled Transcendence by Kimon de Greef

The Ego Trip book cover

Author Kimon de Greef

Many thanks to Doubleday Books and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Kimon de Greef’s wild and mind expanding book The Ego Trip: Psychedelic Toads, a Trail of Deaths, and the Guru Who Peddled Transcendence. Following in similar investigative books that explore the recent explosion in psychedelic therapy and tourism, de Greef takes readers down a less traveled path to enlightenment and psychedelic knowledge through the Sonoran Desert Toads, also known as Incilius Alvarius or previously known as Budo Alvarius, a species of toad that exudes a toxin that has psychedelic properties that are similar to those found in plants like ayahuasca. De Greef’s book not only takes readers on a trip to learn more about the history and misrepresentation of smoking toads (or sometimes licking them), but also about the self-appointed toad gurus who have swept in to the Sonoran Desert area and received the “blessings” of the Seri people, the supposed indigenous guardians of the toad medicine. Much like Ernesto Londoño’s Trippy: The Peril and Promise of Medicinal Psychedelics and John O’Connor’s A Short, Strange Trip, de Greef’s book not only examines the promises of enlightenment and new insights to be gained from these psychedelic substances found in nature, but also examines the psychedelic gurus and facilitators who lead these new therapeutic sessions, and the implications and consequences of taking plant medicine and traditions to those with psychological problems and mental illness. It leaves readers to question whether these individuals are really helping or exploiting others and their needs. De Greef’s reporting leaves us uncertain as to an exact answer, but it is clear that there are power and economic inequalities that still persist as a result of the recent book in psychedelic tourism and the emerging industry that supports it. Furthermore, I found de Greef’s questions and analyses important in examining the ways in which some of these facilitators take advantage of the increasing desire for personal insight, growth and knowledge, and how psychedelic substances have largely filled a void for these psychonauts.

At the center of this tale of toads is a charismatic but troubling physician named Octavio Rettig, whose own struggles with substance abuse were relieved through toad medicine. De Greef’s narrative is divided into two parts, with the first part exploring Octavio’s addiction battle and eventual rise to become a trusted purveyor of toad medicine to others who are sick and suffering with the approval of the Seri, a nomadic desert people who occupy land in and around the Sonoran Desert. I found this part of the book to be fascinating not only because of Octavio’s unique rise to psychedelic supremacy, but also because de Greef details the long, strange trip of 5-MeO DMT, the supposed God Molecule, that is found in not only toad venom, but also in plants and the molecule’s synthesis in labs. Unlike other long-lasting psychedelics, 5-MeO DMT is a much shorter trip with users experiencing an intense ego dissolution, often viewed as providing new insights and connections. In some of the latter half of the book, which details the attempts of pharmaceutical companies to patent and produce 5-MeO DMT for therapeutic purposes, researchers liken its powerful experiences and effects on the brain as a kind of system reset that possibly can be a powerful agent in helping individuals with significant depressive symptoms, especially those with treatment resistant depression. We not only learn more about the history of this intense psychedelic, but also about the Seri people, who were the supposed guardians of toad medicine and whose council granted Octavio special rights as a kind of shaman who can distribute toad medicine. De Greef’s research also takes us into the history of toad smoking and licking, which explores some of the misconceptions and fear mongering about the attempts to seek out this new, psychedelic experience, as well as some of the cultural and anthropological studies related to psychedelics and toad medicine. This was among some of the most interesting aspects of the book, and de Greef’s clear summary and analysis of the history and concepts helps readers understand the possibility and questions around the use of toad venom in ancient or pre-Columbian spiritual experiences from people like the Mayans and Olmecs. De Greef consults with well-known experts in the field like Andrew Weil and Wade Davis, as well as other well-known researchers whose work in Central and South America helped establish much of the scientific study of plant medicines of indigenous people. What is most fascinating, though, is through de Greef’s examination of the Seri people is that we find that there is not much evidence to support their use of toad venom in any kind of spiritual or religious experiences. The Seri people, who have inhabited the Sonoran Desert area for centuries, revered many other animals in their traditional ways, but there is no evidence that the toad was one of them. De Greef’s reporting indicates that Octavio likely brought toad medicine to the Seri people in order to help with the high rates of alcohol and drug addiction and used their traditional songs and imagery in his toad ceremonies, providing a kind of credibility to the idea that toad medicine is an ancient, indigenous practice. In fact, Octavio received letters from the tribal council indicating his skills as a practitioner of toad medicine, a credential he would use to travel the world and facilitate toad ceremonies for others who were interested in or in need of some kind of mystical experience to bring about change.

In the first half of the book, de Greef also details the complications that have arisen in trying to extract the toad venom, since it requires “milking” the toads by squeezing them. The toads are nocturnal and only come out during the rainy season, spending much of the year underground in the Sonoran Desert. Further complicating the issue is the fact that the Sonoran Desert has become an area used by cartels and coyotes to facilitate border crossings, and toad hunters have, at times, been abducted or experienced conflicts with both groups, making toad medicine a difficult and sometimes dangerous substance to obtain. As Octavio’s prominence rises in the world of toad medicine, de Greef describes how his ceremonies gradually take on a kind of rote-like practice, where he sometimes tries to take on as many customers as possible, many times ignoring or failing to watch over individuals in the throes of an intense, psychedelic experience. Furthermore, he incorporates other plant medicines in the process, which may have other effects on his participants. What was even more troubling was that as a physician, he seemed to do no intake or prior history to understand any possible physical or mental conditions that may impact the treatment. In fact, Octavio and some of the other practitioners seem to view toad medicine as a kind of panacea that can treat all conditions from addiction to diabetes and ADHD. As readers will learn, this cavalier approach to a powerful psychedelic has dangerous and tragic consequences.

The second half of the book was also interesting, but I enjoyed it less than the first half. While Octavio is still featured in the second half of the book, this section moves away from the Sonoran Desert and into the business world, where we learn more about the attempts of start-up pharmaceutical companies to bank on the growing trend of psychedelic therapies, and how new attempts to synthesize 5-MeO DMT has led to an increase in trials for this medicine. Among the strands in this story is the growing attempts to legitimize psychedelic medicine, and how the psychedelic toad community struggles with reigning in Octavio’s messianic behavior, which has resulted in injuries and deaths. It is interesting to learn more about how some of the pharmaceutical companies have attempted to take 5-MeO DMT to trials and to read about the outcomes of these experimental trials, but I found this aspect of the story a little more clinical and not as exciting as the first half of the story, where de Greef examines the history, rituals, and cult of toad medicine. In some ways, there are parallels between Octavio and these companies, who seemingly both seek to exploit the growing interest in psychedelic therapies and their role in self-exploration and actualization. As de Greef’s reporting and analysis demonstrate, there seems to be a fine line between the beneficial and the profitable approaches of both facilitator and companies. That is, while they both seem to want to improve outcomes and contribute to wellness of individuals, there’s also a need to make money, and when readers look beyond the visions and trails, we’re left wondering who benefits the most from toad medicine.

The Ego Trip is a fascinating book that incorporates scientific and true-crime reporting to explore the complications arising not only from a controversial and misunderstood approach to mental health and wellness, but also the rise of a complicated, guru-like man who has twisted traditional ways to create his own narrative and practices for toad medicine. De Greef’s reporting not only provides more insight into this misunderstood practice, but also provides readers with more clarity about the origins of toad medicine, and how practitioners like Octavio Rettig have twisted ambiguities and uncertainties about indigenous practices to carve out a new age practice that meets the needs of a growing crowd of psychonauts. De Greef presents compelling evidence to allow readers to draw conclusions about these practices as well as the kind of cult that Octavio has built over the past 15 years. It’s a fascinating look at this obscure, but growing community. Highly recommended! 

 Milk & Mocha Comics Collection: Our Little Moments by Melani Sie

Milk & Mocha Comics Collection book cover

Author and artists Melani Sie

Many thanks to Andrews McMeel Publishing and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Milk & Mocha Comics Collection: Our Little Moments by Melani Sie. While I read this collection, I initially requested it for my daughter, who has read nearly all of the Milk & Mocha books. Milk & Mocha are two bears who are in a relationship. There stories are simple and primarily revolve around their bonds over food and fun despite their opposite personalities. Milk is the more outgoing and energetic bear, and Mocha is usually content with sleeping in and staying around their home. The bears have a small green pet dinosaur named Matcha, and they discover a yellow frog they named Mustard that also becomes their pet. The bears are round and cute, designed in the kawaii style, and feature simple stories that demonstrate their devotion and care for one another. This collection features several brief episodes that are mainly visual without much dialogue or words. Sie’s artwork and character designs convey the love and appreciation Milk & Mocha have for one another. The collection culminates with the bears planning a trip to Indonesia to visit Bali, stopping to visit the beach and temples while also watching a traditional Indonesian dance and also enjoying delicious Indonesian street food and restaurants. It’s a sweet collection that will leave readers feeling warm inside. My daughter loved reading this collection, paging through it several times, enjoying Sie’s warm and colorful panels and laughing at the silly and sweet displays of love and affection from Milk & Mocha. Although I’m not as big a fan as her, I also enjoyed paging through this collection. Sie’s artwork is cute, and the brief stories are fun and relevant to anyone who has had to share time and space with someone else. I smiled and giggled as I read through this collection, identifying more with Mocha but appreciating Milk’s insistence in getting out and exploring the world. Sie’s introduction mentions that this book is filled with ordinary moments in life, where nothing seems to happen but small, simple experiences of daily life. If anything, this book will make readers appreciate these simple moments and the ones we share these moments with.

Milk & Mocha has become more well known over the past few years, and Milk & Mocha Comics Collection is a nice entry to their loving, sweet relationship. This book is a cute collection that is easy to read and will appeal to a variety of readers. It’s a great book to read with kids, but also one that will bring some warmth and joy to older readers. Recommended!

 

The Cure's Disintegration- 33 1/3 by Andi Harriman

 The Cure's Disintegration 33 1/3 

by Andi Harriman

The Cure's Disintegration cover

Author Andi Harriman

Big thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and NetGalley for sharing one of the latest in their 33 1/3 series of great albums. This one is on one of my favorite albums, which was also one of the albums that was instrumental in shaping my later musical tastes, The Cure’s Disintegration by Andi Harriman. I’m so glad that there is a 33 1/3 book about The Cure, and especially about what many believe to be their best album, 1989’s Disintegration. Herriman’s approach to documenting the album is excellent as she explores the band’s prior discography and how their sounds was influenced both by the changing nature of punk and post-punk in late 70s and early 80s Britain, as well as pressure to record pop singles while also maintaining a sense of artistic integrity and individual voice in their music. Herriman frames Disintegration as the pinnacle of The Cure’s oppositional battle between these forces that ended up confounding reviewers and record execs at first, but has, over time, resulted in what many consider to be the band’s most lauded album. However, what also sets this book apart from other 33 1/3 entries is Harriman’s analysis of The Cure’s work with 19^th century French poet Charles Baudelaire. Harriman cites examples of Baudelaire’s poetry and life to explore similarities to The Cure’s music and lyrical content, as well as how the author of Fleur du Mal’s dark and decadent life mirrored some of the gothic intonations of Disintegration.

I really appreciated the way this book is structured, as Harriman provides a useful analysis of The Cure’s work up to Disintegration, which helped me to understand how the same band that wrote poppy punk songs like “Boys Don’t Cry” and “Jumping Someone Else’s Train” followed them up with albums like Faith, Seventeen Seconds, and Pornography. She also takes a close look at some of the poppier albums that followed, including The Head on the Door and Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me. It was interesting to see how such an iconic band were constantly evolving their sound and the various sources (and substances) that influenced their changing sounds. The Cure is not only known for their unique sound but also their unique look which many attribute to the Goth style. Harriman also explores some of the genesis of Robert Smith and band members’ style, which at times seems to result from comfort as well as a kind of insecurity of being on stage and singing. Harriman also explores the origins and influences of some of The Cure’s songs, which again was interesting to learn more about. However, I loved reading Harriman’s connections between Baudelaire’s work and aspects of The Cure’s songs and style. Baudelaire is such an interesting writer, influenced by Poe, but also uniquely French, he wrote poems and short vignettes that straddled the era of Romanticism and Modernism, yet managed to also create a kind of decadent style that celebrated the fleeting feelings of passion and emotion while also acknowledging the impending decay and rot that frequently follows these pleasures. It’s been a while since I last read Fleur du Mal, so I appreciated Harriman’s inclusion of some of the texts, particularly the poems titled “Spleen”. Harriman not only examines the earlier beliefs in humors, and how the spleen was thought to hold some of the darker humors that influenced feelings like melancholy, but also how Baudelaire’s work shifted the notion of the grotesque and ugliness from evil to something beautiful and sublime. She includes the opening lines, translated by Edna St. Vincent Millay, as “if I lived a thousand years I could not be more crammed with dubious souvenirs. There’s no old chest of drawers bulging with deeds and bills, Love-letters, locks of hair, novels, bad verses, wills, That hides so many secrets as my wretched head;- It’s like a mausoleum, like a pyramid, Holding more heaped unpleasant bones than a Potter’s Field;”. These lines resonate so much with me, as well as the title that is sometimes applied to this “Spleen” poem, “The Sphinx.” Even before delving into the analysis of Disintegration, I could see the relevance of Baudelaire’s lines to songs like “Lullaby” and “Pictures of You”, which are both haunting and romantic in their own dark way. Additionally, noting “The Sphinx” title adds to the mysterious and ominous nature of the music and lyrics of The Cure, where the ambiguity points to both love and loss, remembrance and fading, pleasure and pain.

Harriman includes other references to Baudelaire’s work throughout her book, but it’s the last two chapters (before the outro) that detail the creation of Disintegration, which is fascinating to learn more about as well. As the band gradually shifted from original member Lol Tollhurst due to his waning influence, alcoholism, and inability to learn new synthesizer technology, Smith brought in other musicians, who added to and helped shape the evolving sound of the band, bringing it back to darker more melancholic sounds found on earlier albums. Yet, there is something different to the sound of Disintegration, possibly shaped by Smith’s turning 30 and his marriage that filled the album with a sense of fleeting pleasure and the darker side of romanticism. As Harriman notes with Baudelaire, his poetry “rejected the empty gestures of romanticism without losing the heroic energy.” The Cure’s sound feels similar to this notion in that there’s such emotion and feeling in their music, but it doesn’t traffic in the traditional romantic tropes. The pain is not just loss, but the kind of ennui that longs for a time passed that will never return. Even analyzing the cover, which features a faded, almost underwater looking image of Robert Smith surrounded by flowers and other obscured images, suggests something uncanny, familiar, yet distant and fantom-like, observable, but out of reach. Harriman examines how songs like “Pictures of You”, “Love Song”, and Lullaby”- some of the singles from the album, represent this kind of fleeting feeling. Furthermore, she notes how videos helped the band add to the goth imagery of love and loss. I loved reading about the “Lullaby” song and video, since that was always one of my favorites, despite being haunted and frightened by the video when I was younger. It was interesting to learn that Smith’s own childhood and his fascination with mouths added to the creation of this song. I also found it interesting that the band thought that “Fascination Street” was the one song that didn’t quite fit on the album and presented as the US single. I think “Fascination Street” might have been my first exposure to The Cure, and I loved the bass line and guitar feedback and reverb in that song. Beyond the analysis of the album’s contents, Harriman also details how the album was created, with the band moving into a rented old home in the British countryside, and how a fire nearly destroyed the lyrics for the album. I really enjoyed learning more about the creative process, and how the band all ended up bringing demos and ideas for each other to listen to and vote on for inclusion on the album. It was fascinating to learn more about the creative process that was involved in developing and producing this amazing album.

I absolutely loved this book, not just because Disintegration is one of the formative albums of my youth that I still listen to today, but also because of Harriman’s fresh approach to analyzing music and literature, noting the similarities between Baudelaire’s own trailblazing style that pushed past the “hollow frills of Romanticism in order to inject its emptiness with the bulbous, uncomfortable tragedies of his damned existence” noting hos “His words are struggles between the virtuous and the immoral, a bouquet of calamitous cavorts with the devil himself.” She goes on to note the oppositions at play in Disintegration, and how “anxiety and pleasure converge in heaps within an immense fortress of sound. A love, an obsession, for the grotesque and the horrible.” It’s a beautiful synthesis that helps to unlock some of the bulging drawers filled with haunting “Memories, nightmares. Messy, shattered dreams.” Both this book and Disintegration the album are a trip down a melancholy lane, reveling in the oddities and sadness we feel along the way. Highly recommended! 

Journeying to Another Dimension of Sound, Sight, and Mind in The Twilight Zone: Stories from the Fifth Dimension

 The Twilight Zone: Stories from the Fifth Dimension by Dan Watters, Morgan Beem, Tom Scioli, James Stokoe, L. Marlow Francavilla, Francesco Francavilla, and Nate Powell

The Twilight Zone book cover

Many thanks to IDW Publishers and NetGalley for allowing me to journey to through a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind, with their entertaining new collection of stories from The Twilight Zone: Stories from the Fifth Dimension by Dan Watters, Morgan Beem, Tom Scioli, James Stokoe, L. Marlow Francavilla, Francesco Francavilla, and Nate Powell. I’m a fan of the original show The Twilight Zone, as well as many of the other iterations. I loved the ironic twists of the episodes and how many of the episodes encourage viewers to think deeply about their own behavior and actions. The stories in this collection feature many of the same kinds of selfish, greedy, and thoughtless characters who experience a kind of cosmic irony, and the authors are able to make the stories unique and different from the episodes. Not all of the stories were great or land with the same kind of impact of the dramatic irony, yet they still managed to resonate with me. The artwork is also good, rendered in black and white, which harkens back to the classic episodes from the 1960s. Furthermore, each story is framed by unique artwork with faceless people, creating a kind of connective transition among the different stories that replaces Rod Serling’s iconic introduction to each episode.

The first story is “Blanks”, is the kind of story that reminds me a little of “Time Enough At Last” and Poe’s “Masque of the Red Death”, where a rich man who is dying is seeking a scientific path to immortality on an exclusive and secluded island. “The World of Your Wildest Dreams” is a story about a group of astronaut explorers who discover a planet with an Earth-like atmosphere populated by creatures who seem to have an interest in Freudian psychoanalysis and are able to manifest the crew’s deepest, repressed memories. This story also featured a great surprise at the end, and the artwork is creative, especially the creatures that inhabit the land. “The Relic” has some of the best artwork in the book, although the story was a little hard to follow. It features two warring groups in a seemingly ancient world that are battling for control and dominance over one another. There are some surprising images that crop up that lead readers to question the setting. The ending was very surprising and also a little humorous. Nevertheless, the story does raise some questions about our own values, beliefs, and practices. “False Bottom” is a story with an unlikeable character whose vacation with his sister and brother-in-law is disrupted when they travel through their houseboat’s false bottom to another world. I liked the modern relevance of this story, and as a story where we see an unlikeable character receive some karma. “False Bottom” is an eerie and unsettling story that can appeal to those who question the bros and those partaking in the maxxing culture. “Silent Warning” is a kind of monster story about a group of scientists who discover a meteor at the bottom of the ocean. It’s emitting sounds, which is odd for a space rock. As a result, they enlist the expertise of Dr. Emily Sorenson, a scientist who studies sonic frequencies underwater. The group of male scientists and crew members seem to discount Dr. Sorenson’s ideas and suggestions, while she grows more attuned to the strange and haunting frequencies emitting from the meteor. I really liked the setting, artwork, and mutant fish that threaten the scientists as they explore the mysterious meteor.

The Twilight Zone: Stories from the Fifth Dimension collection is a nice addition to the Twilight Zone series. The stories are entertaining and contain ironic twists, with some hitting harder than others. The artwork, rendered in black and white, is good and adds to the classic, Twilight Zone feel of these stories. Recommended!

 

Exploring Hawaiian Culture and Tradition of Surfing in Nalu by Marie Alohalani Brown and Ian Lendler

 Nalu: History, Legends, and Wisdom from 1,000 Years of Hawaiian Surfing by Marie Alohalani Brown and Ian Lendler

Nalu book cover

Scholar and author Marie Alohalani Brown

Author Ian Lendler

A great big Mahalo to Clarkson Potter/Ten Speed Press and NetGalley for sharing the wonderful and beautiful book Nalu: History, Legends, and Wisdom from 1,000 Years of Hawaiian Surfing by Marie Alohalani Brown and Ian Lendler. I had the pleasure of visiting Hawaii recently, and I was amazed not just by the natural beauty of the land, but also on the stewardship and care that most Hawaiians display of their land and sea. During out trip, we also visited the Polynesian Cultural Center and were able to learn more about the various cultures that comprise Polynesia and Pacific Islands, learning more about their distinct and shared beliefs and practices from which indigenous Hawaiian culture descends. I was also amazed at the interest and pride in Hawaiian culture around the islands, since it’s not something I new much about prior to visiting. I’m grateful that Dr. Brown and Lendler’s research and documentation in their book Nalu adds to the body of knowledge about Polynesian and Pacific Islander culture, history, with a specific focus on the practice of surfing in Hawaii.

I loved the way this book examines history, culture, and mythology to identify the ways that a cultural practice has evolved over time to become a modern sport and pastime for many people around the world.  The authors not only identify early instances of the practice of Nalu in Hawaii and other Polynesian islands, but also examine the cultural relationship that Hawaiians have with the water, often stressing how essential it is to their daily lives. It’s a beautiful reminder of our own need to reconnect with nature and to emphasize how we are part of our environments. The authors not only identify cultural beliefs and practices, but also share myths that demonstrate and explain the origins of these beliefs into how waves formed, and how different gods and goddesses utilized waves and surfing to travel from island to island, to show off or to demonstrate their own mastery over nature, with a reminder about the power of nature and the need to respect it as well. In addition, the authors provide glossaries of terms related to oceans and surfing, to further educate readers about indigenous Hawaiian beliefs. It’s fascinating to learn the variety of terms to describe waves and the parts of waves and surf. These sections are accompanied by both historical drawings and texts, sometimes coming from early encounters with indigenous Hawaiians, as well as beautiful color photos in the ocean of surfers.

Other sections in the book present the history of modern surfing and the different kinds of boards that have been used over time. This was also a fascinating section to learn more about how surfing spread through tourism and Duke Kahanamoku, the Olympic swimmer who brought surfing to the mainland and encouraged others to find a board and catch a wave. I loved learning more about him, since I wasn’t familiar with his or his brothers’ swimming accomplishments as Olympic athletes. There are other sections as well that detail some other integral figures in the world of surfing including Rell Sunn and Eddie Aikau, and how their contributions to surfing helped to further increase interest in surfing. For example, Rell Sunn became one of the first female surfing champions and established female surf competition divisions. Her story shows how integral the ocean is to Hawaiian culture. I also didn’t realize that the major annual surf competition, The Eddie, was named after Eddie Aikau, who took part on the sailing of The Hōkūle’a, a traditional Polynesian craft that set sail from Hawaii and was part of the second wave of Hawaiian cultural renaissance. The Hōkūle’a encountered rough waves, eventually flipping, leaving the crew clinging to the side of the boat. Eddie Aikau set off on his surfboard to find help but was never seen again. The crew was rescued, but Eddie’s body was never recovered. Eddie’s brother, Clyde, created the Eddie surf competition to commemorate his brother’s love of big waves and to celebrate the Hawaiian cultural traditions of surfing. There are some cool and touching stories about sea turtles helping to lead winning surfers to big waves, and Clyde believed the turtles somehow represented the spirit of Eddie.   Brown and Lendler detail their contributions to surfing in helping to not only maintain some traditional Hawaiian practices, but also to share the love of being out on the ocean and spending a day riding the waves. I loved the way that Brown and Lendler don’t just recap these stories, but really frame them in an educational context, reconnecting their importance to Hawaiian culture and providing context, examples, definitions, and other essential information to ensure that non-native Hawaiians understand the cultural and historical significance of these individuals, myths, practices, and beliefs. The authors make learning about Hawaiian culture not only educational but also engaging and fun.

Nalu is a fabulous book filled not only with beautiful pictures and images from history, but also incredible stories and myths highlighting Hawaiian culture, beliefs, and values. While Nalu reinforced my appreciation and love for Hawaii, it will surely spark interest in traveling there if readers have yet to visit. Although I read the digital version, I can only imagine how striking the physical version of the book will be. Highly recommended as a book for those interested in culture, mythology, history, and travel.

Inhabiting 1980s New York in Whitehead's Cool Machine

 Cool Machine by Colson Whitehead

Cool Machine book cover

Author Colson Whitehead

Many thanks to Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Cool Machine, Colson Whitehead’s third entry into the world of Ray Carney, Northeast Regional Furniture Dealer of the Month (August 1981), the first Afro American Furniture Dealer of the Month, and occasional fence, whose been looking to get out of the game since the late 60s. Colson Whitehead is one of my favorite authors, and one of the authors whose books I look forward to reading. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to inhabit the immersive world of Ray Carney and a long-ago New York, filled with incredibly detailed descriptions of furniture, restaurants and shops, and lots of thrilling and morally ambiguous characters who readers can end up rooting for. I was especially glad to see Pepper, Carney’s enforcer, back in action for these stories since Carney leaves some question as to the nature of Pepper’s absences. Just like Harlem Shuffle and Crook Manifesto, White takes readers into Ray Carney’s furniture shop and his side hustles for making some extra loot. This time, however, Carney and his wife, Elizabeth, are empty nesters, and Carney’s heist funds are helping to pay his kids’ college tuition and serve as capital for Elizabeth’s expansion to her own travel agency in the boom of Black tourism of the Caribbean. This was an exciting read that I couldn’t put down. Whitehead elevates crime fiction and thrillers to new literary heights, incorporating not only real characters, events, and scenes from 1980s New York, but also adding trenchant and relevant commentary that resonates with modern readers. 

While Ray Carney functions as a throughline for these three stories that take place over the 1980s, I found that Whitehead’s other characters featured throughout the book provide more of the action and flavor in these stories. For example, in the first story, “City at Night”, Carney is forced into a heist as one of his contacts has been beaten by a mob group led by a nefarious villain named Buzz. Buzz is out for revenge after the infamous thief Uncle Rich ripped Buzz off during a previous heist. Unbeknownst to Carney, he worked with Uncle Rich, and Buzz sees this connection as a means to get revenge on Uncle Rich. Carney is then blackmailed into leading Buzz’s gang to the elusive Uncle Rich. Yet, Uncle Rich, anticipating the revenge, ends up escaping with Carney, requiring Carney’s support and skills for an epic heist. While most heists end up netting these crews some loot, this heist is more personal and significant to Uncle Rich. He’s going to break into the Waldorf, one of the most upscale hotels in NY, and take back Jesse Owen’s Olympic gold medals from the 1936 Berlin games. The job has symbolic significance for Uncle Rich as he feels some kind of way about Owens’ plight as a revered Olympic athlete who was forced to not only race animals for money, but also to eventually sell his gold medals to placate Uncle Sam’s tax debt. Carney also sees significance in Owens’ story as both the need for a plan in life to manage things like taxes, but also of the systemic inequality that Black athletes face(d) in American society. I loved the character of Uncle Rich and his crew of siblings Rita and Jeff, Newark transplants raised by Black Panthers, looking to stick it to the man once again. Furthermore, Whitehead’s story takes us underground, both literally and figuratively, as we inhabit a New York that shows us more below the surface, including a kind of alternate society with its own mayor who rises to the challenges and seeks feedback by constantly questioning “How am I doin’?” Part of the other throughline with these stories involves the rise of cable as a mode of not only entertainment but also communication and income. Uncle Rich and others in the stories recognize the potential for controlling the cable industry and see it as a means to control another sector of New York, even if it is underground. This leads to the thrilling caper with the attempted heist while Buzz’s violent crew pursues Uncle Rich. 

The second story, “Here Comes Sue Simmons”, was my favorite. This story takes place in 1983 and primarily features Pepper, Carney’s. enforcer, who despite constant stomach problems, is connected to an art buyer through Elizabeth. Pepper accompanies the buyer to an underground, downtown club to purchase a stolen mask from the Fang tribe. While Pepper’s buyer holds on to the briefcase full of money and searches for his seller, Pepper’s stomach pains force him to the bathroom. When he returns, the buyer is on the ground and the seller has exited the club with the money. Pepper’s job description shifts from enforcer to detective, searching the city for the stolen money and the mask. Pepper eventually teams up with LJ, a mohawk wearing punk who takes her name from the Television song “Little Johnny Jewel”, which was such a cool reference. One of the reasons I loved this section was all of the downtown NY references like seeing ESG play a show in this club and the Basquiat-like messages that appear tagged everywhere around the city. LJ knows the guy who stole the money and offers to work with Pepper to track him down. However, LJ also works for another art dealer who seeks to return stolen artifacts to their home countries, so her motivations are not only hidden, but also somewhat similar to Uncle Rich’s in the first story- reclaiming Black artifacts and treasures from an opportunistic world that traffics in Black history and culture. This story also features the best villain, who is only known as The Melancholy Hitman, a psychopath who seems to be struggling with connections despite his attempts to mimic typical human behavior, like taking tours around NY. It’s interesting that the Melancholy Hitman can blend in so easily, like wearing a mask of a normal person, since this story is about the power of a mask to transform whoever possesses it. As LJ explains, the Fang wore these masks as part of a tribal council that dispensed a kind of frightening justice that helped to keep society in line. In some ways, both Pepper and the Melancholy Hitman dispense their own kind of justice, but at opposite ends of the morality spectrum. This was a thrilling story that I couldn’t put down, with alternating narratives that follow Pepper and the Melancholy Hitman. Plus, all the references to downtown New York in the early 80s are fun to read, and Pepper’s friend and filmmaker Zippo also makes an appearance to help him and LJ recover the mask. Zippo is working on an interesting project that highlights the racist undertones in popular movies from the past. Whitehead allows readers to immerse themselves in the downtown scene that was a bubbling stew of art, music, and film, witnessing how some of these disparate scenes coalesced to bring help styles like hip-hop emerge from the underground and club scenes. 

The final story, “No Radio”, was also a great, exciting story that takes place in 1986. In this story, Carney’s nephew, who ended up working for a lawyer, is a witness to the murder of his lawyer boss and is on the lam. Although Carney grew up with his cousin Freddie, they eventually drifted apart, going down opposite directions, with Carney going to school and Freddie continuing his learning at the notorious Tombs. Carney notes that Freddie was never the same and died soon afterwards. It was at Freddie’s funeral that Carney learned about his nephew, Robert, and Freddie’s wife. Now, years later, Carney needs to find Robert to learn more about what happened, especially as Robert is pursued by a mob enforcer named Rabbit. Like the “Here Comes Sue Simmons” story, this story features alternating narratives that pair Carney and Pepper’s search for Robert with Rabbit’s quest to ensure Robert doesn’t go to the police. The title also refers to the changing nature of New York, when more residents posted “No Radio” signs on their cars, which both Carney and Pepper see as a sign of weakness in a city that is seemingly indifferent if not antagonistic to the meek and mild. It’s also a symbol of the change that enveloped New York in the 80s as it began its gentrification, ushering in new residents who helped to change many of the neighborhoods and institutions, including Donegal’s, the bar Pepper and Carney frequented. I really enjoyed this story not only for the great narrative structure and characters that inhabit this New York of the 1980s, but it also aligns well with the themes of the story about change, evolution and growth, and aging, as both Carney and Pepper are getting older and questioning the nature of their work. Both men have found some sense of peace and purpose in doing less but will always come out to help family and friends. There are many other interesting references to real life characters and events, but New York remains one of the primary characters throughout all three stories, and probably all three books. Whitehead presents New York as much more than a setting, but as both a protagonist and antagonist, that will provide a way for the characters like Carney to make a living and support their family, but also offers challenges and threats, as we see Carney, Elizabeth, and Pepper grow and adapt to these challenges. 

Cool Machine is a great book not just because it’s fun and exciting, but because it recreates a world from the past and allows readers to inhabit New York at different stages in the 1980s. Furthermore, Whitehead has the amazing characters who populate these worlds, whether they are underground, in clubs, or hanging around Carney’s furniture store. Whitehead’s descriptions of furniture, streets, and other parts of the setting create a fuller, richer portrait of New York and the characters in the book. However, Cool Machine is also great genre reading, which Whitehead once again elevates to new heights. Highly recommended reading!

Biting Superhero Critique: Automatic Kafka

 Automatic Kafka by Joe Casey with artwork by Ashley Wood

Automatic Kafka book cover

Author Joe Casey

Artist Ashley Wood

Many thanks to Image Comics and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Automatic Kafka by Joe Casey with artwork by Ashley Wood. I didn’t know much about this 9-issue collection from 2002, but the robotic arm image on the cover and the title attracted me to it. Ashley Wood’s artwork in this collection is stunning, with a mix of surreal images that incorporate advertising, pop culture, horror, sci-fi and war imagery, while Casey’s story and writing veer satire and critique to the absurd. At times, I found the story a little hard to follow, but Wood’s images help to ground a complicated story that lampoons super heroes and pop culture through its absurdly entertaining tale of a renegade robot addicted to a substance known as nanotecheroin. The National Park Service seeks to reassemble Automatic Kafka’s old team of The $tranger$, who include Saint Nick, Helen of Troy, and The Constitution, all assembled by The Warning. The National Park Service is looking to bring Automatic Kafka back into service for secret missions, but Automatic Kafka has a lucrative life of product endorsements and hosting a frightening game show called The Million Dollar Detail, where contestants try to guess the missing detail to often fatal physical challenges.

Automatic Kafka is a fascinating, if not sometimes confounding, story that has all the hallmarks of a critique of the George Bush era’s amped up patriotism and pessimism. In particular, The Constitution is a gas mask wearing ultra-patriotic warrior, whose red, white, and blue nationalist tattoos bear a certain resemblance to some current officials promoting the warrior ethos. Similarly, Automatic Kafka’s shilling of products and hosting a violent and fatal television show mock consumption and the kind of entertainment we seek to possibly take our minds of the violence and bloodshed we witness on the news. It’s a kind of bread and circus that often distracts citizens from the real horrors that are abound. Additionally, it’s interesting to see how the comic uses seemingly innocuous government agencies to develop clandestine operations and programs like The $tranger$, and their willingness to revert to these options when it seems like society is falling apart. I’m not sure whether that was the intent of Casey and Wood, who show up in a kind of meta-fourth wall break, and explain to Automatic Kafka his real intention. I felt like there was some kind of deeper meaning or more trenchant critique of the world in the early 2000s that was often marked by increasing government surveillance and programs couched in a rise in patriotism and nationalism. Automatic Kafka is surreal and absurd, but also sharply critical and biting in its satire of consumerism, patriotism, and the government. Plus it has amazing artwork. It’s a story with sharp, acidic artwork that feels especially relevant today. Recommended!