Japanese Murder Mystery Guilt by Keigo Higashino

 Guilt: A Mystery by Keigo Higashino; 

translated by Giles Murray

Guilt book cover

Mystery Master Keigo Higashino

Many thanks to St. Martin’s Press, Minotaur Books, and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Keigo Higashino’s latest mystery novel, Guilt. I was excited to read this book because I’ve generally enjoyed Higashino’s books, and this is the first book that features Detective Godai, a police detective in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Higashino is well known for his other mysteries featuring “Detective” Galileo and Detective Kaga, two distinct characters who have their own logic and methods for solving murders. Detective Godai doesn’t have quite the same presence or investigative skills that Galileo or Kaga have, but this was a solid mystery story that left me wondering about the killer and their motivation.

Godai is called in to investigate the murder of Kensuke Shiraishi, a lawyer that everyone seems to agree was a good guy. While Godai and his partner Nakamachi initially think Shiraishi might have been killed by a disgruntled client, they can’t find any evidence of disgruntled clients. Shiraishi actually checked in on some of his clients to make sure everything was going ok for them prior to his death. Their investigation eventually leads them to Tatsuo Kuraki, an older widower who met with Shiraishi regarding questions about estate law and wills. After some investigation, Kuraki eventually confesses to the murder of Shiraishi as well as the 1984 murder of Shozo Haitani, a financial schemer who entangled Kuraki in paying for medical expenses and transportation after hitting Haitani while he was riding a bike. Although Kuraki was one of the individuals who discovered Haitani’s body, he had an alibi, which led the police to arrest Junji Fukuma, an innocent electronics store owner, whose false arrest eventually led to his suicide while in custody. Kuraki has lived with this guilt for years, and eventually befriended Fukuma’s wife and daughter, although they did not know his identity. He was planning to leave his inheritance to the Asabas (Fukuma’s widow and daughter), but under Japanese law, Kuraki’s son was legally entitled to at least half of the inheritance if he wished to contest the will. This is why Kuraki sought the advice of the lawyer Shiraishi. However, after Shiraishi learned more about the situation and the murder, he apparently encouraged Kuraki to confess to the 1984 murder, even though the statute of limitations had expired. Fearing for his freedom and feeling threatened, Kuraki met with Shiraishi, but killed him because of Shiraishi’s attempts to get him to confess. Although surprised at his confession, the police checked his story and were amazed at Kuraki’s knowledge of the specific details that were not released to the public. Furthermore, they were even more surprised to learn about the older murder. Although the motive seemed somewhat specious, they seemed happy to have a suspect under arrest and in custody.

Although the investigation seems wrapped up, others involved with both the victim and the accused were not satisfied. Shiraishi’s daughter Mirei questions Kuraki’s account, contesting that her father would not have pushed Kuraki to confess. Rather, she recognized that his work as a lawyer would have encouraged Kuraki to maintain his innocence. Likewise, Kuraki’s son, Kazuma, also questions his father’s involvement in both murders, noting that his father was not a killer and seemed incapable of murder, especially as an elderly widower. Will the specter of false accusations and arrests impact this investigation? Will the police and public’s desire for identifying the murderer drive Detectives Godai and Nakamachi to further investigate this strange case where murders were committed nearly 40 years apart? Or will they quickly accept Kuraki’s confession? I was surprised how involved I became with this case, especially after Kuraki confesses so early on in the book. However, it’s Mirei and Kazuma’s insistence that the police misread their fathers’ intentions and actions that kept me reading. In fact, I was also surprised that while this is billed as a Detective Godai mystery, it’s Mirei and Kazuma who do most of the investigation and its their work that leads to challenges to Kuraki’s narrative. The short chapters that focus on different characters give readers varied perspectives from which to observe these crimes and their implications for both victims and the families of the accused. In fact, it seems like that was an underlying message for this story, examining how society, in particular Japanese society, will often castigate the family of an accused murderer, and these families often suffer as much as the victims when they often have no involvement and are also grappling with the implications of the crime. Kazuma ends up having to take a leave from work because of the negative attention his father’s case might have on the firm. He wears a disguise out. Likewise, when Fukuma is accused and eventually dies in police custody, his case is never resolved, and despite no conviction, he is guilty in the court of public opinion, which limits opportunities for his widow and daughter, who not only have to grow up without a husband and father, but also have to grow and live under the shadow of being a murderer’s relative. Higashino seems to be raising questions about this kind of treatment and harsh speculation, looking at how murder implicates all, and often the accused’s families become victims as well.

The book was an interesting read, and since this was originally published in Japan, there are many significant cultural practices that might seem different or out of place in American society. The guilt of family members is one. I also at times found Kazuma, the accused’s son, to be frustrating at times. He is easily duped by a reporter, and possibly because of cultural practice, welcomes the reporter in, feeling bad that he might turn down his interview requests. Similarly, Kazuma feels bad about the negative attention his father’s case brings to his advertising firm, questioning whether he should quit or not. However, readers should keep in mind the context of the novel. Nevertheless, I was really surprised that Kazuma consented to the interview, especially with his concern about publicity for the case and how it would affect his boss and co-workers. Maybe he was trying to create some positive publicity, but it ended up backfiring. There are also some interesting arguments about the statute of limitations for crimes like murder as well as what constitutes guilt and restitution. Kuraki’s lawyer is always looking for angles with which he can show his client demonstrating a level of care or remorse about his crimes. There’s a close scrutiny of the crime scene and the behaviors of the accused, and I enjoyed this level of analysis on these details. Overall, this was an interesting and surprising mystery. If you’ve ever read Higashino’s other mysteries, this is among some of the best, however, the detectives don’t engage with the case in the same way that Detective Galileo or Kaga do. Additionally, the story is complex, involving 2 murders that are nearly 40 years apart, and there are many culturally relevant details that might not be familiar to American readers. However, Guilt is an enjoyable mystery which I gladly recommend. 

Revisiting the Past and Interrogating the Present: Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

Yesteryear book cover

Author Caro Claire Burke

Big thanks to Penguin Random House, Knopf, and NetGalley for the advanced copy of Caro Claire Burke’s timely and scathing debut Yesteryear. I was excited to read this book for a few reasons, including the fact that it focuses on the strange nostalgia of a tradwife and that the book has received some serious buzz lately. From reading the premise, I anticipated that this book might be something like Octavia Butler’s Kindred, where the heroine is magically transported back to a time when being a minority was a threat to one’s identity and existence. However, reading this book evoked so many competing emotions including anger, humor, sadness and empathy. As I was reading the book, I kept thinking of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man, in which the unnamed protagonist struggles with his own identity, often allowing others to define who he is while also trying to navigate the ambiguity of his identity. It’s not until the narrator grasps his invisibility that he truly recognizes its power to live underground, and although he is finally able to define himself, he recognizes that this involves removing himself from a society that frequently sees him as stereotypes and tropes. Natalie, the narrator and proprietor of Yesteryear is somewhat similar to Ellison’s Underground Man in that she recognizes that her existence is largely defined by men and her relationship to them. However, Burke has created a character who readers can feel both enmity and sympathy for at the same time. I found the character of Natalie to be both frustrating and sympathetic in that she is someone who has seemed to embrace the tradwife lifestyle, but possibly for monetary and social mobility reasons. When the novel begins, we meet Natalie on her ranch, Yesteryear, amidst a whirlwind of activity, work, and children. She’s a kind of woman entrepreneur whose managed to build her brand on social media, yet she’s also done this both by using her family and in spite of her family, gradually fraying her relationship with her oldest daughter, Clementine (there are some interesting old-fashioned names, and so much of this book seems to be poking fun or at least winking at some of these trends).

Although Natalie appears to be in control, managing her family, her marriage and a successful business, she’s dealing with online haters, who she calls the Angry Women, and the recent resignation of her social media producer/assistant. As Natalie contemplates the potential fallout of this resignation from her team of women and what it might mean for her brand, her ranch, and her family, she awakens to find herself in Yesteryear, but it’s much darker, drab, and her family is completely different. Natalie keeps making reference to her family who isn’t her family. Her husband, Caleb, is now Old Caleb, who no longer resembles the younger, hunky scion of a political dynasty. Her daughters, Mary and Maeve, look like Natalie, but also don’t look like her daughters from the present- Clementine, Junebug, and Jessa. Similarly, her sons, Abel and Noah, look like her, but not like her other sons Samuel and Stetson. Something is off in this Yesteryear, and Natalie eventually realizes that she has awakened in 1805, not 2025.

I loved the way Burke alternates the chapters between Natalie’s past and the historical past. It’s this kind of alternating perspectives that I felt more sympathetic for Natalie, a smart and ambitious young woman who is also subject to rigid gender norms and expectations to women. Natalie grows up without her father with some ambiguity about whether he’s actually deceased or not. Natalie realizes that her father never really died, but her mother invented this story about his death to never really confront the reality of their failed marriage. Like many of these myths, Natalie both accepts and rejects it, never really acknowledging her father. The absence of a father makes her mother work harder, developing her own business while raising two daughters in Idaho. Natalie earns a spot at Harvard, where she meets Caleb Mills, the youngest son of a CA senator and presidential candidate. It’s at Harvard where Natalie’s rigidity in gender roles sets in; however, again Burke presents a kind of sympathetic situation where Natalie struggles to fit in with many of the other young women, and as a result rejects their ways and latches on to the traditional and conservative ways from her home. I think that there’s a lot to relate to in this situation, especially the challenges of finding an identity in college when there aren’t many opportunities to explore or navigate one’s identity. Natalie seems to have had her identity foreclosed at home, and when faced with threats and differences in behaviors at Harvard, she reaches out for what is familiar and comfortable to her. It’s also when she meets Caleb, and immediately recognizes that he’s either her soulmate or her ticket to a more lucrative and meaningful life as the wife of a senator’s son. It serves as the opposite of the life she imagines living as a poor, struggling career woman in a big city, forsaking the joys of marriage and motherhood to climb the corporate ladder of success. It’s this kind of binary thinking that makes Natalie reject the path she sees other young women, like her roommate Reena, pursue, and why Natalie ultimately chooses the life of tradwife over finishing her degree and seeking out her own career and identity. For Natalie, there’s no in-between or no negotiation in these life objectives, which seems to be part of her downfall. I recognize that women have these decisions to make about careers, motherhood, and marriage, but Natalie seems to hold the path of career woman in such scorn that she does not see this as a way forward for her.

Unfortunately for Natalie, Caleb’s not much of a worker either, and after getting married and pregnant, the book takes a more humorous turn as Natalie begins to have some buyer’s remorse about her husband, failing to recognize that he’s not very ambitious and not very smart. In fact, Caleb’s parents mention that he’d be a great politician some day since that’s a field where people don’t need to think too much. I found that after marriage, when Natalie finds out who Caleb really is, the book becomes much more satirical and scathing. There’s hints of it when we learn about Natalie’s hidden pesticides at the ranch or the secret trips to Target for her girls, but it’s Caleb’s complete lack of ambition and his susceptibility to online conspiracy theories that makes him such a hilarious and sadly true to life character. As Natalie plots out a life by negotiating money for the ranch from her father-in-law, Caleb seems to get dumber and dumber throughout the book, relying on chat boards and online communities to learn about how to be a farmer, and eventually causing the deaths of numerous cows and other farm animals. In fact, Natalie’s world is filled with other interesting characters, including her mother-in-law Amelia, who has resigned herself to a life of tranquilizers and pudding, and her father-in-law Doug, whose political campaigns eventually take a dark turn with the promise of a coming Civil War.
Meanwhile, as we learn more about how Natalie came to develop her own brand and massive online following as a tradwife, Burke intercuts these chapters with the current Natalie struggling as an actual wife and mother in 1805. Although much darker, Natalie’s challenges to adapt to this traditional life enables her to possibly question her decisions and choices in life, as well as her reasons for monetizing her family and lifestyle on social media. She realizes the challenges of baking, cooking, and rearing a family without the extended support of a team of nannies and producers. She attempts to escape, but her new family shares their limited knowledge about the savages and vast wilderness surrounding their land. In one attempt at escape, Natalie is caught in a beartrap, causing a nasty wound that her daughter needs to primitively stitch. In another attempt at confronting the absurdity of her situation, Old Caleb slaps Natalie, shocking her into the reality of submitting to patriarchy. Although Natalie struggles with these traditional roles, including the baking, housework, and chores, she attempts to make the lives of her children, especially Maeve, more enjoyable by naming the farm animals, spending time among the chickens, picking wildflowers, and creating sock puppets. It’s these moments that Natalie tried to manufacture and capture for her followers rather than taking the time to authentically enjoy them and bring joy to her children. Again, I think that these moments of play and joy amidst the drab drudgery of the early 1800s show how complex Natalie is, and that she is capable of reaching out to others, even if it is also because she herself is completely bored and desperate for escape.

I also loved how these alternating chapters build tension to learning more about how Natalie’s brand is built up, while her life on the 1805 Yesteryear ranch drags on, leaving readers wondering whether she will escape or even survive. This kind of alternating narrative kept me reading, wanting to learn more about Natalie’s life. We see how she eventually learns to develop a following, with a little help from some online influencer courses (which again are scathing in their satire), and how in many ways this social media life allows Natalie to construct the identity and family that she always wished for. We also learn how this constant push to always be online and making content impacts her family and her own sense of self, as a woman, as a wife, and as a mother. I’m not going to reveal the ending, but I’m curious to read more about reactions to the ending. I found it to be surprising, yet also revelatory and hilarious, while also maintaining the darkness of the book. Yesteryear is a timely and scathing book, sharp in its criticisms, but also with a sense of foreboding and sorrow. Caro Claire Burke has written a complex character who wrestles with her identity and sense of self amidst the culture wars that are currently raging online. While Natalie doesn’t really seem to learn or progress, readers have the opportunity to learn more about her and see how both society and social media end up limiting her opportunities and her identity. It’s a fascinating book that really challenged my thinking, but also made me laugh a lot, and in some ways fear for my daughter. Highly recommended!

Light and Thread- Reflections from Han Kang

 Light and Thread by Han Kang

Light and Thread book cover

Author and Nobel Laureate Han Kang

Many thanks to Random House and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Nobel Prize winning Han Kang’s latest book, Light and Thread. I was so excited to find this title, and even more excited to learn that this was Kang’s first book of reflections, a kind of nonfiction journal and brief exploration of some of her writing. I don’t know if there are other nonfiction publications in Korean from Kang, but this was the first time I’ve seen her nonfiction in English. After reading and being haunted by books like The Vegetarian, Greek Lessons, and last year’s incredible We Do Not Part, I was excited to see what this book has to offer.

Although the book is slim, there’s much in it, and Kang provides some insight into her writing, especially around the questions she attempts to explore with each novel. I loved reading about these influences and especially how her novels revolve around these questions of the relationship of the past to the present and the living to the dead. It’s something that emerges in her writing, and especially in the relationships between characters that are at the center of her books. In addition, there’s a section where she discusses some of the writing of We Do Not Part, which I did not realize took her 7 years to write. We Do Not Part is not only a powerful story about friendship, connection, and the restorative power of art, but it’s also an incredibly affecting and viscerally moving work of art that readers can feel. There is something tangible about the book, and in Light and Thread, we learn that Kang experimented with walking around her home in Jeju Island in the darkness before dawn to learn exactly how dark it was or how shadows from candles displayed on walls. More surprising was the fact that Kang went out into the snowy Jeju forests to see how long she could hold snow in her hands before succumbing to the numbness of the cold. It makes sense that Kang would delve into these sensory experiences to create such a vivid and tactile experience for readers.

There’s also some lovely poetry throughout the book that feels threaded to We Do Not Part, in which Kang discusses the kinds of connections she experienced. She notes that some of her earliest writing from elementary school featured poems that dealt with these kinds of threads and connections which she sought to bind writers to readers, and possibly members of society. I’m amazed at the kinds of questions she raises through her examination of some of the most brutal events in history- although she seems struck by the violence and brutality, she still wonders how the same humanity that can punish and brutalize others is capable of such love and forgiveness, or care. It’s something that is hard to reckon, especially when we tend to not see these threads that bind us, but often look for the separation and tears.

The last section of the book is titled “Garden Diary,” and it details Kang’s first how she owned on her own, and how she worked with a landscaper to plant some trees and greens and deliver light to them, despite the north-facing garden. The landscaper tells her to bring mirrors to her yard in order to catch the sunlight and deliver it to the garden, and Kang writes this lovely poem

“We’re catching the sunlight shining south. By reflecting it with mirrors.

…

Thus, in my garden there is light.

There are trees that grow, nourished by that light.

Leaves sparkle, translucent, and flowers slowly open.”

The rest of the garden diary details a year and a half of the growth and life she documents as she continues to bring light and life to her plants. She observes the bugs, including wonderous fairy bugs, whose luminescence makes them seem ethereal, and the aphids she worries about eating the leaves of her plants. These are mostly short observations throughout the year, but it’s marvelous to read the subtle differences in the changing of seasons, and the position of the sun gradually evades the garden, rendering the plants lifeless until the next spring. In one November entry, she mentions that “In winter, a south-facing house becomes a jar of light,” which was a phrase I just loved. Throughout the year, we see how the plants and growth connect Kang to her home, which she says “feels like a friend” when she “heard myself say, ‘Be right back.” It’s not just the home, but the life and growth that connects her to the space, and also demonstrates that kind of care and concern that counters the brutality and violence of humanity and history. Towards the end of these entries, Kang notes that “I had been wanting to fill the north wall full of green, and now time is doing the job for me.” Even though these entries are mostly a sentence or two, it’s a lovely document of how time unfolds in these older, seasonal ways, similar to Jenny Odell’s wonderous book Saving Time, that looks at different measures of time, and Donald Quill’s Living the Irish Wheel of the Year, which also takes a more seasonal approach to the passing of time, reminding us of the renewal and return that occurs in life. The last few entries from Kang detail how her viburnum “has grown taller than I am,” and how “When I step through the front gate, the scent of lilac is everywhere.” Kang’s entries not only made me long for spring as we made it through a rough winter, but it also affirmed how important it is to be surrounded by life, and especially how good it can be to take care of other living things, even if they are plants. I loved this brief book, and as I look back on rereading certain sections, my appreciation and joy for it grows more and more like Kang’s viburnum or lilacs. This is definitely a book to revisit and reread, but also one to share with others. Highly recommended! 

Female Friendship and Voice in Japan

 Sisters in Yellow by Mieko Kawakami

Sisters in Yellow book cover

Author Mieko Kawakami

Many thanks to Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage and Anchor and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Mieko Kawakami’s latest book Sisters in Yellow, with skilled translation from Laurel Taylor and Hitomi Yoshio. I’ve previously read Breasts and Eggs, Heaven, and All the Lovers in the Night, and I’ve found her books to be both challenging and rewarding. Kawakami’s books tackle difficult situations, usually faced by women, and in many of these books, the characters are women who are not afforded the kinds of voices or platforms in society where most will listen to them. Sisters in Yellow follows that standard in telling the story of Hana Ito, a young woman whose mother works in a bar as a hostess and who acts as more of a sister than a mother. It’s through Hana’s mother, Ai, that Hana eventually meets Kimiko, a woman Ai’s age who ends up living with Hana while she is in early adolescence for a brief time, but shows some care and consideration for Hana that leaves an indelible imprint on her. It’s this connection that eventually leads Hana to leave home and live with Kimiko, eventually opening their own place, Lemon, whose color holds an auspicious future for the duo. It’s through Lemon that Hana befriends two other young women, Ran and Momoko, who eventually become a part of the Lemon family, and once Lemon experiences a tragedy, the quartet moves into a new home looking for new opportunities to make money through various hustles and underworld connections.

I loved the character of Hana, especially through the first half of the book. As many of the other characters mention, Hana’s strong and focused, and she’s capable and competent, despite having no real practice or training from her mother, whose neglectful indifference led Hana to make sense of the world on her own terms. Nevertheless, this lack of feedback or guidance also ends up harming Hana, leaving her often wracked with self-doubt and a slight sense of paranoia and anxiety. This is some of Kawakami’s strongest and most affecting writing in the book. At times when Hana doesn’t immediately hear back from a colleague or when she receives an unexpected response from a friend, Hana’s anxiety plunges her into the depths of despair, and as a reader, I was on that descent with her, feeling the kind of doubt and desperation I rarely seek out, but nevertheless sometimes experience. These are harrowing passages that take me back to the joys and depths of young adulthood, especially when there’s so much uncertainty and precariousness. Nevertheless, there’s some joy as we see Hana and Kimiko eke out a joyous, if not hard-wrought, existence on their own terms with their bar, Lemon. Through this experience, Hana gets some insight into the world of her mother, a world of bar hostesses, mistresses, and women on the edge of society, looking pretty, but ultimately given few rights and privileges. This is also one of the more powerful aspects of the book, where we gain insight into the world of women who often operate on the peripheries with minimal voice. These are women who live in the night and shadows, and yet Hana seems to be different from the prettier, made-up faces like Ran and Kotomi, motivated to make a life and seek out opportunities, not just scrape out her survival. And yet, while Hana is mostly a well developed and powerful character who we root for, her housemates, Ran and Momoko, become hangers-on who rarely do much beyond find trouble or money problems. Similarly, Hana’s mother also gets herself into a bad debt that Hana has to help out with, in one of the more heartbreaking parts of the book. I not only felt bad for Hana, and wondered why she would give up so much for her mom who never really gave up much for her, but also wondered how Ai (Hana’s mom) got into this situation. Momoko also gets into a similar debt situation, which is also incredibly frustrating, and left me wondering why exactly Hana decided to pay off Momoko’s debt. While these events demonstrated Hana’s willingness to help (or at least avoid further scrutiny), it also showed how easily this society can prey on women who are desperate to make a living with little education and fewer options for well-paying work.

I wasn’t expecting this to be a kind of crime thriller- Hana eventually ends up involved in bank and credit card scams, working for another woman, Viv, who might see some of herself in Hana. Although Hana takes the initiative to find work through Viv, she also demonstrates her naivete in her questions and fears of the police regarding these scams. Kawakami creates strong tension through Hana’s will to find work by any means possible and her fear of getting caught, while she continues to rope in the others in her orbit. Yet, the last 15% of the book was not as enjoyable as the earlier parts. This book is strongest when the women are bonding and supporting one another, whether it is Hana’s financial and strategic support, or the kind of emotional and caring support that ladies like Kimiko or Ran provide. As the story careened towards the end and the women’s relationships begin to fray under the pressure of their schemes, I found their actions and treatment of one another not as compelling as the earlier part of the book. There are also some coincidental events that arise that seemed to demonstrate Hana’s weaknesses. I won’t spoil the endings, but it was a bit of a letdown, especially since the book starts out in the present with Hana discovering that Kimiko, now in her 60s, has been arrested for imprisoning and abusing a younger woman. The majority of the book is then spent recounting how Hana met and came to live with Kimiko and the other women (Ran and Momoko). If anything, it’s led me to question whether Kimiko really cared for Hana, or if there was something else at play, and whether Hana, as an adolescent, was seemingly manipulated by Kimiko. Even though the ending was frustrating and somewhat underwhelming, Kawakami’s portrayal of the relationships between the women of Lemon left me with more questions at the end, wondering about the true nature of their relationships. Sisters in Yellow is a powerful book, that slows towards the end, but makes readers question the nature of memories and personal history, wondering really how wonderful those days of uncertainty and precarity are in young adulthood. I recommend this book especially if you are familiar with Kawakami’s other books where she frequently writes about women on the fringes of society who are facing difficult and challenging situations. 

Battling for Spice: Dune: Edge of a Crysknife

 Dune: Edge of a Crysknife by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson; illustrations by Simone Ragazzoni, Andrea Scalmazzi, and Frank D. Mazzoli

Dune: Edge of a Crysknife cover

Many thanks to BOOM! Studios and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Dune: Edge of a Crysknife, written by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson with illustrations by Simone Ragazzoni, Andrea Scalmazzi, and Frank Mazzoli. I’m not completely immersed in the Dune world, but I have watched the recent adaptations and read the original Dune book by Frank Herbert. This is a story that incorporates many of the themes about colonization and rebellion, as well as the specifics of the Dune mythology, and creates some plotlines showing how the members of the Fremen are battling against the Harkonnens, enlisting the Shai-Hulud for help.

There are two interrelated stories contained in this edition, and both feature stories of resistance to the Harkonnens, but they have different artists. Nevertheless, the artwork is pretty similar, and it is colorful and bright, helping to highlight some of the unique features of the Fremen and Arrakis.  Nothing stood out to me too much in either story, except that there’s a battle for spice mélange and both stories feature the shai-hulud, the giant sandworms that populate Arrakis. Both stories also feature a plot involving Dmitri Harkonnen, another ruthless Harkonnen governor. I really liked his artwork, as the artists made him appear imposing and brooding. While he doesn’t say much, his presence is felt through the harsh conditions he imposes on the people of Arrakis. Ultimately, the Fremen employ a plot to infiltrate Dmitri Harkonnen’s headquarters. Will it work? How will their inside knowledge lead to changes? This was a quick read, and it should be of interest to other fans of Dune. I would have appreciated some additional background or character lists since I sometimes struggle with keeping the varied houses and factions within the Dune mythos clear. Nevertheless, it’s pretty easy to see and understand which forces are at battle in these stories and what the stakes ultimately are. If anything, the ending of this edition left me wanting more, waiting to find out what will happen next in the saga to control Arrakis and the flow of spice.

An Urgent and Important Book: Chain of Ideas by Ibram X. Kendi

 Chain of Ideas: The Origins of Our Authoritarian Age by Ibram X. Kendi

Chain of Ideas book cover

Scholar and Author Ibram X. Kendi

Many thanks to Random House, One World Publishers, and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Ibram X. Kendi’s timely and urgent new book Chain of Ideas: The Origins of Our Authoritarian Age. Dr. Kendi, who currently chairs the Advanced Study Institute at Howard University, is one of the most prominent researchers, teachers, and activists in racism, and his work is not only is well-researched, but also is accessible for general audiences. Although Chain of Ideas is a necessary book for many people today, I’m afraid that those who would most benefit from learning more about the origins and effects of The Great Replacement Theory are not going to pick up this book. Unfortunately, I’m afraid that many will stamp Dr. Kendi’s research and ideas as racist or woke, positioning this book as something it is not. Politicians and cultural warriors have branded Dr. Kendi as a dangerous thinker, but I think his work is some of the most important out there today, not only because of his ability to clearly analyze racism through social and historical lenses, but also to propose thoughtful, considerate, and meaningful change in a way that clearly demonstrates Dr. Kendi’s skills as a teacher and public intellectual.

Chain of Ideas primarily interrogates the Great Replacement Theory, a misguided belief that policies and movements in the United States and around the world are anti-white, and looking for ways to benefit other races at the expense of white people. Dr. Kendi’s research traces how this idea has gained recent traction in the past 15-20 years in Europe and the US but is really a result of distancing and recycling of Nazi ideas, which were ultimately influenced by US segregation and Indian removal policies that largely relied on racial categories to benefit white citizens over others. Dr. Kendi provides 10 links in the chain that demonstrate how the Great Replacement theory operates and its impact on society as well as the violence it has wrought in Europe, America, and areas like Australia and New Zealand. Many of the mass shootings have cited Great Replacement ideas and fears, and when these happen, replacement politicians often offer distancing, but still manage to either redirect blame or fear monger about other issues whether it is immigration, gun rights, or privileges. Regardless, it’s important for the public to not only understand this theory, but also be able to recognize some of the dog whistles and calls to discrimination that politicians evoke to instill fear and stoke violence among their followers.

Each chain in the link is focused on many different examples across history and around the world. While I think many readers will be familiar with the American examples and especially the more recent American examples, it was shocking to learn more about what’s been happening in Europe and how politicians are using the fear of immigrants to manipulate Europeans into a zero-sum way of thinking, that immigrants’ gain comes at a citizens’ loss. In fact, I felt so frustrated and sad while reading this to see how many people are manipulated regularly with misinformation, a lack of clear understanding of history, and a willingness to readily accept false promises because of politicians’ clout or prior success. In a lot of ways, I kept thinking about Ta-Neihisi Coates’ “The First White President,” which argues that Trump used similar manipulative methods to stoke white resentment among social classes that other politicians had used. Rather than finding commonality in the exploitation of the working class or banding together to have more power, politicians will often use zero sum thinking in race and note that progress and opportunities come at a cost for white people, which is clearly not true. Furthermore, Dr. Kendi’s refutation of the kind of reverse racism that has sadly become a spectacle of the latest Trump administration reminded me of Keon West’s excellent book The Science of Racism, that demonstrates the true impact of racism and biases on access to things like jobs and opportunities, while also making a strong argument about the false nature of these ideas of reverse racism. Similarly, Dr. Kendi notes that this is just another method that has been used since the Nazi’s grabbed power in 1930s Germany to present their enemies as threats and disempower them to the point of expulsion and elimination. As Dr. Kendi notes, while WWII ended the Nazis, these ideas have gradually been sanitized and updated for our modern world. He rejects the idea of neo-Nazis since these are the same ideas, just rebranded. I hadn’t really thought about this since we continually mention neo-Nazis, but they really are the same ideas, or as Gil Scott Heron once said, it “ain’t no new thing.”  It’s just scary and disheartening to learn how this cycle continues, and how easily people are manipulated into believing these kinds of falsehoods and misrepresentations.

One of the most frightening elements of the book is how many of these ideas were reanimated by a novelist making observations in France in the late 90s. Rather than being guided by statistics and facts, Renaud Camus’s conspiratorial ideas spread throughout Europe and took hold in America as well, where change and difference were demonized and blamed for everything from inflation, to violence, to housing shortages, and unemployment, allowing others holding more responsibility to skirt blame and evade accountability. It’s also sad to see how powerful and generally intelligent people will misuse and manipulate others’ misfortune to gain advantages and power in society. While American politicians adopted the Southern Strategy of rebranding phrases like school choice and crime to manipulate voters’ fears, recent Trump advisors like the Steves (Bannon and Miller) have used more blatant fear mongering and racism to spread falsehoods and sow division in society. In fact, Miller made sure that others had copies of one of his favorite books, Camp of the Saints, a 1970s dystopian novel, akin to the Eruo-Turner Diaries, which presents immigration as the downfall of European society. We continue to hear these nagging criticisms in Trump and Vance’s admonition of Europe. However, as Dr. Kendi notes, whites are largely the dominant majority in European countries, hardly at risk of losing their status, their population advantage, and more importantly their social capital. It was just surprising to learn how much fiction can masquerade as fact and be so influential on policies and fears. Chain of Ideas is not only eye opening, but it is also a call to awareness and resistance. After reading Dr. Kendi’s dismantling of these bonds which chain people to racist and violent ideas, readers should feel more empowered to identify the falsehoods and propaganda, to require facts and confirmation rather than just accept the biases and falsehoods of conmen looking to stay out of jail. Furthermore, Dr. Kendi’s book is timely and necessary as America continues to slip in its autonomy. We are witnessing continued attempts to make voting more difficult, while an armed militia of untrained loyalists is now policing airports while Steven Bannon notes how ICE would be ideal to patrol polling places. Dr. Kendi’s comparisons with other countries that have slipped into autocracy should also serve as a warning to see how the transition from democracy to autonomy isn’t sudden and jarring, but rather a slow erosion that happens with dismantling the typical bulwarks and checks that balance out power (see Hungary, Turkey, El Salvador, and Russia).

While Chain of Ideas is not always an easy read, learning and change are not always easy. There’s a certain level of discomfort and challenge that comes with incorporating new and uncomfortable ideas into our existing schema, yet Dr. Kendi uses familiar references and examples to make his point, making the history and current threats all the more accessible. The only suggestions I have are to have more transitions between paragraphs to better develop the links and connections between different examples and countries. The book shifts from different examples, both historically and country-wise. I found that sometimes I needed to go back to better understand the connection, and I wondered if having more transitions to better emphasize the connections between ideas would have helped with the ideas. Additionally, I wish the book was more focused on solutions. The “Epilogue” does present some steps to take, and it notes how America is different from the other examples. Furthermore, Dr. Kendi also encourages readers to take action at the end of the book; however, the book at times does feel like it’s a downer, and I felt myself getting discouraged at times, which is also an important sign of its power. Maybe there will be some new editions or future works that focus on advocacy and action. However, Dr. Kendi does important work in teaching us about the history of this dangerous idea, and how it has been recycled and repositioned for modern audiences. Highly recommended!

 Hello Darkness Vol. 5 by Various Artists

Hello Darkness Vol. 5 cover

Big thanks to BOOM! Studios and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of this excellent horror anthology comic Hello Darkness Vol. 5. I was excited to find this edition because I loved horror anthologies nearly any way they arrive—comics, films, shows; I enjoy some short, dark tales that often end in some kind of ironic cosmic justice. I’ve really been enjoying comic anthologies for the unique artwork and brisk storytelling that gets right down to business. Hello Darkness Vol. 5 features all of these great elements with some awesome writers and artists, including Tate Brombal and Tini Howard, whose works I just encountered in other recent publications. Plus, I got to discover some great new writers and artists, including Rocky OBK’s mesmerizing “Sauna 24” and Paulina Ganucheau’s bloody tale “Freshly Maid.” I also really liked “Last Christmas” by Torunn Grønbekk and illustrated by Isaac Goodheart. The story hearkened back to those great Tales from the Crypt EC comics, even down to the dark artwork. There are these other short one-page pieces that have 3-4 comics per page called “I Can’t Take You Anywhere” by Hack, and these were hilarious—a great way to break up some of the disturbing horror stories with some more dark humor that was reminiscent of The Far Side, but only darker and more ironic. What stood out to me most, though, was the incredible artwork of Jenny Frison throughout this book. There were just some of the darkest, most surreal horror images I’ve seen with amazing color. There were other images by Jeehyung Lee, Michael Dialynas, Rebeca Puebla, Emma Rios, Becky Cloonan, and Riley Rossmo that were equally captivating and really made me pause. While all of the artists brought their own vision and style, I loved that there was a kind of carnival like theme that also stressed this kind of dark side behind the play and fun of childhood. In fact, there were plenty of stories that featured that kind of dark side hidden behind the mask of propriety—whether it was whatever dark force is driving the murderous “Pothole” or the doppelgänger who is too good to be true in Brombal’s “Imposter Syndrome,” or the hidden passage that the main character from “Sauna 24” discovers after needing to escape from the stresses of everyday life. Each of these characters slips into the darkness, whether by choice, through exploration, or be accident… they are all pulled from the world of comfort and light into a darker, more violent or unknown world. I especially liked “One of Us” by Joe Pruett with stark black and white art by Stevan Subic, where two hikers out looking for a friend encounter a strange individual who offers them some warm meat roasting on the fire. “The Thread” by Lauren Knight was not only the most disturbing story, but it was also the grossest, and I mean that in the best possible way. It was the equivalent of watching a kind of splatter horror movie crossed with some Lovecraftian-inner menace. I was cringing while reading it, but in the most enjoyable way. “Away Message” by Jorge Corona and “Gunmetal Ghost” by Fell Hound also felt timely and appropriate as both dealt with different kinds of apocalyptic outcomes, with “Gunmetal Ghost” being particularly disturbing and bloody. “Inner D-Man” by Jeffrey Brown was also a fun sports and Satan story with fun comic imagery to match this humorous but dark story. Hello Darkness Vol. 5 has a lot to offer for fans of horror, horror anthologies, and comics. I especially loved the great artwork throughout this volume, and not just the artwork from the stories, but the interstitial artwork that added to whole dark and fun themes that seem somewhat incongruous but are largely highlighted by these stories. I can’t wait to find other work by these great artists, and also check out the previous volumes of Hello Darkness. Highly recommended!