Culture Creep: Notes on the Pop Apocalypse by Alice Bolin

Culture Creep book cover

Author Alice Bolin

Big thanks to Mariner Books and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Alice Bolin’s new collection of essays Culture Creep: Notes on the Pop Apocalypse. I was drawn to this book by its title and the cover. I wasn’t familiar with Alice Bolin’s previous book Dead Girls, but before beginning this book, I read a little about her and her writing, and it will be another book added to my “To Read” list. Culture Creep is an amazing collection of essays that focus on areas of pop culture, including things like films, tv shows, video games, as well as other forms of entertainment and technology. In her essays, Bolin examines the different ways that various factors have accessed in possibly assimilated these forms of entertainment, art, and communication in our lives and how this impacts us. In particular, Bolin is interested in the ways that these forms of entertainment and technology have impacted women, and throughout the essays her analysis zooms in and out to examine both the micro and macro implications of these changes for society, but especially for women. In one of the descriptions I read, an essay was compared to those in Jia Tolentino’s Trick Mirror, and I agree. I was reminded of many of Tolentino’s themes and observations about how technology, social media, and reconfigurations of feminism and female empowerment have adapted in society to be both more appealing and less demanding. In fact, Bolin cites Tolentino in at least one of her essays, and I appreciated the fact that she is taking some of Tolentino’s arguments and observations and building on them, contributing to the conversation about how social media and technology seemingly offer freedom and an ability for reinvention, but ultimately often leave us feeling more trapped and troubled. 

The first essay, “The Enumerated Woman,” focuses on how technology has changed women’s relationships with their bodies, examining her own experiences with Fitbit and food tracking apps. I appreciated how Bolin uses her own experiences to build on her arguments and relate to readers. I hadn’t really thought to much about the idea of fitness tracking. I tend to like measuring my steps, but I can also see how this may send the wrong kind of message about health behaviors, especially when we live in a society that seems to reinforce and police women’s appearances and weight. Bolin also introduces an strain of feminism that Tolentino refers to as “mainstream feminism”. Bolin describes this as “a philosophy co-opting certain elements of more radical feminist politics, like freedom of choice, but using them to reinforce traditional fender roles and other oppressive hierarchies.” It’s an interesting concept she calls “postfeminism” that reoccurs throughout her book in various instances. In this essay, though, Bolin examines how the freedom to track our movement and caloric intake can easily be posted to our social media, “where an imperative to share and consume becomes and imperative to conform, and good health and beauty are ever more thoroughly conflated.” This is a lot like Tolentino’s optimized woman—the modern woman who on social media is expected to live her best life and share it, but is also under extreme expectations to conform to a certain standard of beauty and achievement. For Bolin, these fitness trackers and posting about healthy behaviors, whether it is dieting or exercising, feeds into a social desire to feel productive. What I found most interesting about this essay was her argument that these kinds of trackers are largely part of a neoliberal philosophy to provide for one’s own well-being. That is, health is an individual responsibility, and not one that the state or government should support. This also fits into many of the themes within Bolin’s essays about how these kinds of neoliberal philosophies place responsibilities and labor on the individual and shift the responsibility from the state. While some of us may have access to the means of healthier living, whether it is close proximity to grocery stores with fresh fruit and vegetables or access and time to exercise, others may have more limited access to the means of healthy living. This shift in thinking about health and fitness, which seems to be more of the direction the Department of Health and Human Services is going, puts others at a disadvantage and makes healthy living less accessible for many Americans, yet frames health as a choice, not a service or product. The other interesting conclusion Bolin draws is from the work that we do for social media and technology companies as regular users who ultimately become the products to the advertisers that are the real consumers of these large corporations. Although I don’t see much change happening from this idea, it is interesting to think that these companies are enriching themselves from our hours spent “volunteering” (Bolin’s words) to teach them. This would be a great essay to use in class since it builds on experiences many people have had with both health and technology, but also it speaks to our stress and anxiety over our appearance and weight, and the kinds of social pressure we often experience to conform to social standards for our appearance. It not only builds on many of the ideas that Tolentino uses in her essays, but it also challenges our perceptions about how we think about our appearance, the decisions we make about our healthy living, and how we consume technology and media. I would anticipate interesting and thoughtful conversations from this essay. 

“Foundering” is another interesting essay that focuses on some of the recent scammers using social media to get rich, and the television series or documentaries that have resulted from these schemers. Just like Tolentino examining confidence men and how scamming is a part of social media, Bolin examines some high profile scammers and the media representations of their crimes. She starts by explaining her viewing of the Billy McFarland Fyre Festival fiasco and the dueling documentaries that were produced on different streaming services. She ends up also examining Adam Neumann of WeWork infamy, who misled investors by overvaluing his company, yet somehow was given an incredible payout. It is kind of interesting to see how these men are often portrayed in the media, as either eccentrics, geniuses, or comical when they fail. Bolin notes the “boy genius” myth that followed these guys, along with Mark Zuckerberg, and how the media often distorts or lessens the crimes and unethical behavior that they engage in. Bolin also relates these kinds of hagiographies to how we view the origins of the country, often disregarding the awful, criminal and morally corrupt behaviors and actions while mythologizing the work of the founding fathers. It’s an American practice that continues on today. This essay goes into further critiquing Hamilton in humorous ways. I’m not really familiar with Hamilton, but I loved the way that Bolin notes that while Miranda brings in actors of color, the story still focuses on the white people, neglecting to tell the stories of people of color who contributed to the founding of the country. 

“Lean in/Bend Over” also focuses on scammers, specifically examining the NXIVM cult, and how Keith Raniere used women to attract other women to serve as “slaves” for his inner circle. I tried to watch The Vow, the HBO docuseries that Bolin references in this essay, but it was really difficult to watch due to the graphic nature of Raniere’s exploitation. Nevertheless, Bolin explores how Raniere used marketing and sales techniques to establish and recruit for his cult, exploiting our own needs for personal fulfillment and our insecurities. Bolin explores the “postfeminism” approach that Raniere took to empower women in NXIVM. In a kind of paradoxical way of thinking, female empowerment comes from powerful men like Raniere who believe in devaluing femininity. Raniere’s thinking comes from a long line of thinking that presents men and women as being completely opposite, and thus women are viewed as emotional and men as logical. Bolin later traces this kind of thinking to today’s political thinking where Roe has been reversed and more women have the Trad wife lifestyle pushed on them as an option against liberal values that promote education and careers over childrearing and domesticity. Bolin also presents how members of NXIVM shared the ways that food was restricted as a means of control, similar to the enumerated woman she analyzes in the first essay. This essay also made me think about the various ways that society and politicians seek to control women, whether it is in policing their bodies, limiting their options, or dictating their futures, all with the illusion of choice and opportunities. She also presents how these cults and this kind of thinking operate like multilevel marking (MLM) scams that often prey on people’s vulnerabilities to make money, exploiting people’s insecurities and desires for wealth. This essay would also be interesting to teach, especially because the events are so recent, shocking, and infamous, and have shifted the talk of accountability for treatment of women.  

“Stardate” was an interesting essay in that it explored two different television shows that seem so disparate, yet with the influx of television time due to the pandemic were probably made more relevant to many people. Bolin explores the worlds of Sex and the City and Star Trek the Next Generation, finding ways that the narrative structures with journal entries each serve as a frame for the events in the episode. She also notes how these shows are “products of progressive political agendas”, which I found fascinating. As someone who hasn’t really watched enough of either episode, it seemed incredible to find these kinds of similarities, but when we consider how the characters and storylines of these shows challenge many of the more traditional stories and characters, this kind of comparison makes sense. I also appreciated Bolin’s analysis of the kind of future world that Star Trek envisions as a kind of utopia, while other shows are often popular because of our nostalgia and desire for a return to the past. It seems especially hard to escape that kind of market in today’s film and television options, where sequels, franchises, and reboots seem to capture much of the market. Both Sex and the City and Star Trek the Next Generation created stories and dealt with issues and topics in a mature and nuanced way, frequently challenging popular assumptions and the kind of hegemonic thinking that dominated discourse about topics like cultural differences, power, and sex. 

The only essay that I didn’t really enjoy that much was “Real Time”, which again focuses on a popular COVID pastime: playing video games. In particular, Bolin explores the world of Animal Crossing on Nintendo Switch. I’m not that into video games, but Bolin manages to bring up some important points about the nature of work and rewards in video games and real life. It was interesting to consider how we spend our time, and how immersive these games have become, especially one where in Animal Crossing, players are tasked with creating a kind of utopia where care and patience are rewarded. In watching my children play a game like Zelda, where they have more control of the character and that involves more strategy, exploration, and patience, I can see how these kinds of games may become more rewarding for players. My kids reacted so differently when they were controlling link, not really looking to solve the game, but enjoying the ability to control what he wears, when and what he eats, and who he can talk to. It was interesting to see how much they enjoyed having this level of control, especially when they have primarily had these aspects of their lives dictated to them. For my kids, this kind of video game is an experience in autonomy, a kind of play responsibility. The main issue, though, that I had with this essay was that there was so much description of the game and the various activities that Bolin was involved with, it took away a little of the analytical eye that Bolin brought to her other essays. The last two essays, 

“Teen People” and “Rabbit Hole”, both examine magazines and other forms of popular media specifically targeting women and men. “Teen People” examines magazines, and how these forms have changed over the last century to appeal to women, and ultimately send messages about how women should behave and what they should aim for in their lives and relationships. Bolin explains that when she was younger, she was obsessed with magazines, and these provided her with a kind of cultural awareness and capital that may have been missing in her town when she was growing up. However, she notes that her obsession grew to a point where it impacted her ability to attend class. It is another fascinating deep dive into a form of media that, although has lessened over the past 20 years, still remains popular, even if most of the content has migrated online. “The Rabbit Hole” examines the legacy of Playboy magazine and Hugh Heffner. Bolin explains her interest stemming from Heffner’s reality show about his multiple girlfriends, and how this “reality” show was really a kind of coercive performance to maintain his relevance to a digital world. This was a fascinating look at how Heffner shaped the style and substance of men’s magazines in the 50s and 60s, but also used his power and position to deflect many of the horrible things he did. Like other male subjects Bolin questions their accountability, she examines the ways that Heffner claims to be a feminist, one who empowers women and offers them opportunities that they may have never had, but is seemingly not much different from people like Bill Cosby, Keith Raniere, or even President Trump with his recent claims as being the protector of women. These final essays were the among the most powerful in the book, and I couldn’t put them down easily. These would also make excellent essays to teach in a writing class as they would stimulate much discussion and consideration about the arguments that Bolin raises. Furthermore, I think they would make students question the media they consume, as well as the messages that are often implicit in the medium. I would hope that in reading these essays, students would be more conscious and conscientious about what they consume online and in print. Overall this was an excellent collection, and it’s made me want to seek out Bolin’s other book about how the media portrays women. Bolin is not just a talented writer, but an amazing cultural analyst and critic, who easily swerves from personal experience to social issues and their implications in popular media. I loved how she shifted seamlessly from micro to macro analysis, closely examining minor details to further analyze how these issues are relevant to others and what they mean for society. I highly recommend these essays, whether you enjoy reading or are a teacher who is looking for some excellent reading to challenge your students’ assumptions and have them rethink their ideas and the media they consume.

 Aggregated Discontent: Confessions of the Last Normal Woman by Harron Walker

Aggregated Discontent book cover

Love the design!

Author Harron Walker

Big thanks to Random House Publishing Group and NetGalley for sending me an advanced copy of Harron Walker’s collection of essays and articles titled Aggregated Discontent: Confessions of the Last Normal Woman. This book was not on my radar, but I am so glad I received a digital copy. This was a thoughtful and intriguing collection of essays and articles, showcasing Walker’s range as a writer and culture critic. I was not familiar with Harron Walker’s writing but will keep my eye out for her articles since I found these articles both humorous and enlightening. I laughed and learned throughout this book, while also appreciating Walker’s candor and willingness to share about her experiences as a trans woman since hers is not an experience that I am familiar with. When I started this book, I thought that maybe Walker was one of the first trans woman writers, but throughout her book, she frequently cites other authors, auteurs, activists, and artists who also happen to be trans. Reading Walker’s essays, for me, was like opening up a curtain to a new range of experiences for a group that it seems is increasingly marginalized and stigmatized. Walker makes note of this, but also challenges those perceptions throughout her essays. I thoroughly appreciated how her work humanizes a group that was mislabeled as a threat to children during the last presidential election. Although I no longer live in PA, I’m close enough to Philly to catch many of the radio stations, and I was shocked to hear that the current PA senator’s pitch to be elected was fear mongering about the (non) threat of trans athletes, promising to protect female athletes in PA. One of the last essays in the collection highlights the increasing number of legislation against people who identify as trans, and as Walker explains, often pushes them to seek out treatments, medication, and other care in the black market, which not only puts a vulnerable group like the Trans community at further risk, but it also possibly creates further health risks. While Walker documents the more recent legislation, Cynthia Carr’s amazing biography of Candy Darling (Candy Darling: Dreamer, Icon, Superstar) noted how her cancer was most likely a result of malpractice with doctors giving her bad hormone pills.

I really enjoyed all of these articles, but I felt like Walker is at her best when she is surveying the work of an artist or critiquing an aspect of society. “Pick Me”, the second essay, is an interesting critique of the kind of the performative activism seen on social media and more recently by major corporations. She starts the article by recounting her own experience working in a store, appreciating the people she encounters, when she is notified of a new campaign to elevate the voices of Trans employees at a popular store. This prompts her to visit the stores, wondering how many Trans workers they actually employ in several of their Manhattan locations. Furthermore, Walker documents the various statistics and Trans testimonials that are displayed on LED screens in the storefront window. I usually don’t think much about these kinds of events, but Walker’s thoughtfulness to dig deeper and be skeptical of this campaign speaks through her experiences and challenges with finding and maintaining work as a Trans woman. Many of the articles focus on Walker’s experiences with work, an area that often is a challenge for people who identify as Trans. Walker finds that despite the campaign, there are no Trans workers in any of the 6 stores, although many of the clerks mention that there may be some corporate employees who identify as Trans. Her questioning and critique emphasizes that while it is good to raise awareness of the challenges that Trans people face, they still face barriers to areas like employment, housing, and appropriate medical care, and this company seemed to not contribute to making things better. It was also interesting to consider how the media often reports on Trans issues, framing it almost always as dire and at-risk. While there disheartening statistics about the disparity that many Trans people experience, Harron also challenges this notion by presenting other stories highlighting Trans couples preparing for children and how supportive and “mothering” the Trans community is.

“Discontent”, the next essay, is a harrowing portrait of Walker’s work in media, and the challenges she faces navigating a problematic boss who wasn’t even sure what she wanted. While my work experiences have been mostly positive, I’ve definitely had some challenging bosses to work for; however, Harron’s job was providing her with health care that would ultimately pay for her transition, so her experience navigating the kind of harassment and disparity in treatment and expectations were downplayed to a certain extent to pursue her healthcare. This article demonstrated the kind of work challenges that Trans people face, as well as the difficulties in obtaining the health care that they need, and the kinds of mistreatment they might endure to obtain that kind of care. One of my favorite essays was “What’s New and Different?”, which is a fabulous sequel to The Devil Wears Prada that somehow synthesizes another Anne Hathaway film The Intern. It is a brilliant and hilarious creative juxtaposition that manages to also critique the cruelty of the “Girlboss” and how that kind of punishment of working women is almost like a generational trauma, passed down from woman to woman. Walker goes on to critique other 80s films that are predecessors of The Devil Wears Prada—notably Working Girls and Working Girl (the more popular film). Throughout these films, Walker highlights the ways that the woman bosses take advantage of and mistreat their workers, wondering if this kind of treatment (or mistreatment) in popular media stems from marginalized identities, and not just gender. It’s an interesting point to consider, and I loved how Walker investigates this through film, but also creates this speculative  sequel to popular films. It was also interesting to read about Working Girl, the Lizzie Borden film that preceded Mike Nicols’ Working Girls. I’ve read about Born in Flames before, and I’m pretty sure I’ve also read something about Working Girls, but I’ve never seen this film. Walker’s description and analysis of the film does make me want to track it down.

“Monkey’s Paw Girl Edition” presents a unique dilemma for Trans women, and again, it was not something I would have ever considered, but Walker presents her concern about walking down the street, being aware of her appearance, and encountering a group of men, hoping that they display misogyny rather identifying her Transness. This leads into the second part about what being treated like a woman really means, and experience the mistreatment, misogyny and harassment they experience.

My favorite piece was “She Wants, She Takes, She Pretends” which was about the artist Greer Lankton, who I am so glad that I found through Walker’s article. Taking a break during my reading of this piece, I looked up Lankton’s amazing doll work and other sculptures, and was transfixed—or maybe just enthralled with the haunting quality of her work. Walker provides both a biography and an overview of Lankton’s themes and interests in her work, highlighting some of the ideas. It was incredibly interesting to learn how Lankton transitioned, and how her parents played a role in supporting her, although Walker also notes that there might be some ambiguity or uncertainty about the role her parents played. Regardless, Lankton was able to transition with her father’s insurance. It seemed like her parents recognized that Lankton was different from other boys, and as a result, was possibly lonely. She began creating dolls, possibly as a way to keep her company, but also as a reflection of herself. One of the other interesting parts about this article was Walker noting Lankton had many photobooth pictures of her transitioning, which it sounded like was something Walker also did to document her own transition. Maybe the dolls were also a way for her to further alter her image or to further present the possibilities of her identity and presenting herself to the world. Regardless, I was fascinated with her work and couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard of her before.

Another favorite was “A Trans Panic, So to Speak,” which examined Ed Wood’s Glen or Glenda, described as possibly “an unexpectedly earnest plea for acceptance”, but it also seems to castigate transsexuals with the Alan/Ann subplot. As Walker explains, both stories have paths to acceptance, where Glen is social, Ann’s is medical, with hormones and surgery. I didn’t realize that there were these attempts to draw “some distance between themselves and other sexual deviants. Rather than trying to find common ground with all the homosexuals, transsexuals, and drag queens…” This article not only takes a unique approach to analyzing a classic Z movie, but also finds a way to examine how these attempts at representation and normalizing ended up further stigmatizing marginalized groups like the Trans community. Walker also brings in her own experience with her date, and questioning his own gender identity, possibly due to his “ethical non-monogamy”, which I wasn’t even aware was a thing. Again, I felt like I learned so much from this book. The last few articles, “Sterility”, “Fertility”, and In/fertility” all dealt with further barriers and complications Trans men and women face, but Walker also ties in her own experiences as well as those of friends and prominent Trans activists and artists. These were also some excellent chapters that all touched on topics related to family, relationships, and health. There were great points to consider, especially about the idea of family and what it means to people who identify as Trans. Walker explains how the Trans community has becoming mothering, and how many older Trans members end up taking on roles where they mother the younger generation who may have been turned out by family and face barriers to housing and jobs. Walker not only examines this supportive community, but is also turning her critical eye back to these barriers and access to care and basic necessities of survival, and how members of the Trans community are often more at risk due to their marginalized status in society. We see this even more within the past few months of the new/old administration that continues its assault on non-normative groups. If anything, Walker’s book is coming out at the perfect time to confront the disinformation and biases. Although I’m not sure whether anyone in the White House reads at all, I can see these essays being valuable in the kinds of anthologies used in first year writing courses. Walker’s perspective brings an important but often under-represented eye to important issues that most young people will experience either in college or after graduation. Plus, her work is funny and humanizing; that is, it shows us how Trans people live, laugh, and love, while also raising awareness about the barriers and issues with accessibility they often face. I really hope that instructors and curriculum developers consider incorporating any of these essays into their courses. Highly recommended collection!

More EC Horrors: EC Cruel Universe Vol. 1

 EC Cruel Universe Vol. 1 

EC Cruel Universe Cover

Image from the story "The Ink Spot Test"

One of the covers from an issue

from "We Drown on Earth", and particularly Lovecraftian

From "By the Book", with a timely message about the hidden agendas of politicians

Big thanks to Oni Press and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of their second EC relaunch Cruel Universe Vol. 1. I read a version in the NetGalley reader, and was primarily reading them on my iPad, which provided a great viewing experience, since I was able to see larger panels in vibrant color. I am really enjoying these reboots. Although sometimes I feel like these reboots and updated versions lack creativity or imagination, I think the stories in both EC Collections (Epitaphs from the Abyss is the horror themed, Tales from the Crypt version) are unique and present some modern takes on horror and technology, while also maintaining the ironic twists of fate that are a part of the original EC comics. While the Epitaphs from the Abyss was more of a horror themed set of stories, this collection was focused on science fiction and a kind of dystopia. I initially thought this would be strictly sci-fi, but there are stories that are horror themed and also feature the kind of cosmic horror that is in the vein of H.P. Lovecraft. Throughout all the stories, the artwork is great. I noticed in a few stories, there are some common themes in some of the outcomes to individuals in the stories, and I was surprised at the level of gore for a sci-fi collection. However, as the title indicates, these tales are part of a Cruel Universe, where people are subject to violence and brutality, as well as the whims of fate. In really enjoyed the space themed stories and those with aliens. I thought the artwork for these stories was particularly striking and original. Many of the aliens captured the kind of Lovecraftian image of Cthulhu, with tentacles and octopus-like appearances. One of the earliest stories, “Solo Shift”, features an interesting image of a black hole with really great colors. I also liked the kind of socio-economic themes that ran throughout stories like “Priceless” , “Organic”, “And the Profit Said…”, and “Paring Knife”, which all deal with people on the fringes of society or who are subject to a lower social ranking than others. In these stories, there is some kind of ironic twist at the end where we see how those with power maybe are not as powerful as they once seemed or their arrogance brings about a downfall, akin to hamartia in Greek tragedy. Other stories tell of the dark side of technology, and some are particularly relevant today. “Drink Up” was a unique and short tale about a rich man’s quest for immortality, as was “Billionaire Trust”, which had a particularly interesting ending. “Automated” was the story of a tech titan and car designer who brings about the destruction of society with his overreliance on automation (sound familiar?). I also really enjoyed “The Deleted Man”, which shows the lengths that people may go to in order to have their online histories “altered”. Two other favorites were “We Drown on Earth” and “The Ink Spot Test” for their creativity and illustrations. “We Drown on Earth” was especially Lovecraftian, but also focuses on the kinds of risks and problems that corporations exert on their workers. The creatures in the story are particularly creepy and well-drawn. I loved the background art in “The Ink Spot Test”, and the story is somewhat similar to a book I just finished on MKULTRA. I also really enjoyed the covers presented at the back of the book. There were some awesome illustrations there as well.

Overall, this was a great collection. I really enjoyed these stories, and most of them were great with unique and innovative twists and timely stories that are relevant to our current climate, and yet still maintain an element of that classic EC twist of fate. Highly recommended!

America's Hidden History of Mind Control: Project Mind Control: Sidney Gottlieb, the CIA, and the Tragedy of MKULTRA by John Lisle

 Project Mind Control: Sidney Gottlieb, the CIA, and the Tragedy of MKULTRA by John Lisle

Project Mind Control book cover

Author and scholar John Lisle

Major thanks to St. Martin’s Press and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of John Lisle’s deeply researched book about a horrible hidden history in America’s intelligence agency Project Mind Control: Sidney Gottlieb, the CIA, and the Tragedy of MKULTRA. I am fascinated by this period not only because it was classified for many years, but also because it is so shocking that the American government would allow indiscriminate human testing with drugs and other forms of psychological torture even after the Belmont Report. However, I think that Lisle recognizes how this kind of thinking and action are part of the continuous pendulum that swings back and forth across American history.  He states this argument well in one of the last chapters that provides a kind of analysis and evaluation of MKULTRA and its impact on later clandestine actions of intelligence agencies like the CIA and NSA:

“As the previous examples show, MKULTRA was not a fluke. Rather, it was the norm in a system that lacks meaningful external oversight and lets perpetrators of abuses avoid accountability for their actions, a system in which the vicious cycle of secrecy pushes the pendulum too far toward security at the expense of liberty.”

I really appreciated this insight, and I think it is something that is lacking in other books about MKULTRA and Gottlieb. I’ve read a few books about this topic, and Chaos by Tom O’Neill and Poisoner in Chief by Stephen Kinzer both explore similar grounds, yet also delved into specific areas, with Kinzer’s book providing an overview of Gottlieb’s career and various projects in the CIA. What separates Lisle’s book is the deposition transcripts that were used as much of the basis for each of the chapters. These provide some important insight into the various projects that Gottlieb was involved in, and also serve as launching points for Lisle to explore these projects and the individuals who were affected by them. At first, it was a little jarring to read through these transcripts and I wished that Lesle provided some insight into the organization of the book; however, about ¼ of the way through the book, I got used to this approach and actually appreciated how these transcripts helped to inform the other parts of the chapter. Furthermore, they also allowed Lisle to take a broader approach than Kinzer or O’Neill and examine many of the sub-projects that were included under the MKULTRA program. Readers also learn how the project initially developed in response to the belief that prisoners of war taken by North Korea and individuals in other Communist countries (especial Cardinal Mindszenty from Hungary) experienced a kind of through reform (or informally known as brainwashing). Not really aware that this kind of shift could be the result of coercive physical punishment like torture, the American government enlisted scientists and psychologists to explore the various questions related to mind control, wondering if it were possible to not only alter one’s belief system and values, but also to possibly alter their behavior. As Lisle notes in the final chapters and epilogue, this secretive collaboration between intelligence agencies, psychologists, especially behaviorists, and scientists was also what we later found out about in the war on terror and the 1980s war on Communism that brought about the Iran Contra Scandal. As Lisle notes, it’s this kind of fear of other ideologies that ends up  deferring power to intelligence, which leads to secrecy, which invites further abuse. It’s a common thread we see in the fight against Communism, the fight against terrorism, and even now with the “belief” that America is under attack by immigrants, although it seems like the abuses are much more blatant, telegraphed and promoted online to send a message. One of the other interesting conclusions that Lisle draws in regards to programs like MKULTRA is the role of that conspiracy theories play in furthering these abuses. Lisle shows how the CIA has not really addressed this scandal, and the fact that Gottlieb and others destroyed the files leads to an absence of evidence. “All claims need some empirical support to have any credibility. Yet in the twisted world of conspiracy theories, an absence of evidence is itself evidence of a cover-up. Nothing is proven, nothing can be disproven.” Lisle explains that many have gone on to use these kinds of absences to connect dots and create their own theories and beliefs for various outcomes and events. One example is school shootings and the belief that these are used as a pretext to remove guns from people. Another is the various reasons for COVID closures and how this is a scheme by the “deep state” to engage in various actions that will take away liberty. Lisle goes on to write “Like McCarthyism during the Red Scare, these sensational claims generate fear, which generates coverage, which generates converts. Ironically, the conspiracy theorists have managed to manipulate more people than MKULTRA ever did,” providing an interesting current analogy to what is happening now with all of the disinformation and “flooding the zone” to not only manipulate people, but also as a means to call to action, using fear as a primal motivator. I really appreciated this insight and analysis that Lisle provides to link up that idea about how behaviorist techniques are often employed in our current political climate. Lisle also makes a note about how the political landscape in America also further allows this kind of approach where there is limited governance and more focus on appealing to emotion- winning the minds through the hearts—and how this also contributes to the limited oversight in intelligence abuse. It’s an interesting idea and throughline that I don’t recall was in some of these other books (or documentaries like Wormwood and Chaos, based on the O’Neill book).

Lisle reviews some of the other cases that were in Kinzer’s book, notably the Frank Olson tragedy (which was the basis for the Wormwood documentary series). Lisle also explores the roles that other agents and psychiatrists played in MKULTRA’s research. In particular, there is time spent on the abuse perpetrated by George White in Operation Midnight Climax, where he used safe houses in San Francisco and New York to drug people on the fringes of society. The unwitting drugging of these people was due to the belief that they were less likely to report the abuses or even question the drugging. Lisle also shares the attempted follow up that happened after President Ford’s inquiry into CIA misdeeds, and it was sad to see how these single drugging may have induced paranoia and mental illness in some of the victims. Similarly, Lisle also highlights the abuses perpetrated by Dr. Ewen Cameron, a Canadian psychologist whose experiments in mind control were horrific. Kinzer also explored Cameron’s abuses in Poisoner in Chief, and Cameron was also the subject of CBC podcast. However, Lisle focuses more on the patients and what they endured, and also follows up on some of their lives and the consequences of Cameron’s abuse. One of his most notorious attempts to erase and reprogram individuals was through a process called “psychic driving” where patients were forced to listen to tape loops, often words or phrases they despised or were upsetting to them, while in a continued drug-induced state for weeks at a time. As Lisle notes, many times the effects were catastrophic, reducing adult subjects to infant like states where they were unable to care for themselves. In the end of the book, Lisle also follows a lawyer for some of these victims, Joseph Raugh, who sought compensation from the US and the Canadian governments for these wrongdoings. This examination of the pursuit of justice was also interesting to see, as Lisle documents the challenges that Raugh experienced in attempting to challenge the secretive agencies involved in these abuses.

I really enjoyed learning more about this topic through Lisle’s research and reporting. At first, I was a little concerned that this was going to be similar to Kinzer’s book, but Lisle approach is to go for more breadth while also taking some more depth with those projects and people who were involved in the peripheries of MKULTRA. Furthermore, I thought that the final chapters that detail the consequences of MKULTRA in fueling further conspiracies as well as other clandestine programs enacted under the guise of protecting and securing America were some of the strongest in the book. It was an apt and timely conclusion to draw as we continue to witness daily attempts at a form of mind control through disinformation (or censorship through noise), conspiracy theories, and the kind of methodologies employed by cults to manipulate and modify behavior (The BITE method-Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotion). This section was especially important in becoming a more critical consumer of information, whether it is through the media, online, or in print. I’m glad that Lisle’s book adds some additional insight and ideas into the discussion about MKULTRA and the history of these kinds of clandestine operations in America. Furthermore, Lisle’s analysis presents important messages for the current climate of information, both real and fabricated, why it is important to be critical when consuming information. Highly recommended book!

 Things in Nature Merely Grow by Yiyun Li

Things in Nature Merely Grow book cover

Author Yiyun Li

Many thanks to Farrar, Straus, and Giroux and NetGalley for allowing me to read an advanced copy of Yiyun Li’s profound new book Things in Nature Merely Grow. Li is one of my favorite writers. I’ve mostly read her short stories and novels, but I ended up reading Where Reasons End about 2 years ago. That book, as she describes it in Things in Nature Merely Grow, was dedicated to her son Vincent, who died by suicide 8 years ago at the age of 17. It’s hard to categorize the book since it blurs so many lines as Li extends conversations, arguments, and questions she discussed with her son, Vincent. In some ways, it seems to capture his essence, but in others, it allows her to continue to speak with him, through her writing. It’s beautiful, haunting, and like Li’s other writing, incredibly moving. I can’t remember if Li explained the meaning of the title, but it seemed to suggest that keeping that connection with Vincent is more important than finding reasons why he decided to take his life. It also suggests that her continued conversations and questions with Vincent occur outside of logic and reason, and that both to accept his absence and continue to remain connected work outside of logic. Li’s latest book, Things in Nature Merely Grow, also examines the loss of her other son, James, who was Vincent’s younger brother. James also decided to take his own life, and while Li discusses both sons in this book, she also doesn’t dedicate the book to James, noting that it wouldn’t have been what he wanted and a book wouldn’t necessarily be able to capture James’ essence the same way her earlier book attempted to capture Vincent’s essence. Li’s book transcends boundaries of classification and operates in its own place, both celebrating the individuality of her two sons and acknowledging their absences due to suicide. Where Vincent was verbose and at times argumentative, James was contemplative and quiet, often speaking with a slight smile, which for Li was filled with possible interpretations, sometimes in opposition to each other.

Li also explains that while Vincent lived a life of emotion, James lived a life of logic and reason. As a result, Li seems to take a step back from the loss of both children and examine the facts. I found this approach to loss unparalleled. I can’t imagine what I would do in this situation, but Li’s ability to identify the facts and state them provides a way to work towards the radical acceptance she describes as helping her process her son’s death. I’m even struggling with the words to describe this, as Li also mentions other’s challenges with attempts to console her. Sometimes people reveal their true intentions, and this was some of the most shocking parts of the book. People asking for editorial help, people possibly using her employment at Princeton as an in for their children; it was truly shocking. Nevertheless, Li’s radical acceptance also seems to help her navigate the difficulties and drains of interacting with people after a loss. Also as a writer and astute observer of people, Li seems to be an empath and can seem to intuit others’ feelings. I’m not sure if I would have been able to be as composed as her.

In addition to navigating other people, Li also spends time reminiscing about the challenge of parenting. I found her memories of taking care of her sons while she was finishing up her MFA at Iowa’s Writer’s Workshop also amazing. She mentioned how much of child care in the early years is both intuitive and reactive. “One does not master the skills of taking care of a baby by reading a manual or taking a few classes. One fumbles and blunders, never certain if one has done everything right. One weeps from exhaustion or frustration, and one worries and loses sleep over anything, small or large.” An outcome of this kind of reaction and attempts at appeasing this helpless, tiny human are frustration, exhaustion, and many times fear and anxiety as well. I was amazed to learn that Li brought James as an infant to class with her, and continued to teach a week after giving birth. I was also in graduate school when my son was born, and I remember how hard it was to find the time to teach and grade after putting him to bed, hoping that he would just sleep through the night. These moments in the book when Li reflects on her sons’ lives and her care and nurturing of both of them in different ways were some of the best parts of the book. It’s both touching and also imbued, for me, with a sense of longing in the sense of the Portuguese word saudade, which doesn’t really translate into English. I remember after my dad died, someone mentioned this word to me, explaining that it was a word that widows of sailors lost at sea often used. It’s that feeling of loss and nostalgia, with a lack of understanding or full knowledge of the whereabouts of the person who was lost. Again, Li doesn’t mention this word, and also doesn’t seem to wish for things to be different, and therefore, the memories are beautiful ways to communicate the qualities and differences of her sons, not necessarily to feel nostalgic. If anything, as I was reading these detailed glimpses of their childhoods, I could relate to similar memories of behaviors, predilections, or mannerisms that seemed to communicate more about our own hopes and beliefs, and possibly our anxieties, about our children’s futures. Li’s observations and recollections are detailed, nuanced, and subtle, capturing a quick conversation or response from her sons, observing how they eat different foods at a café after a weekend activity, as well as the books they encountered and how these texts influenced their lives. As a result, reader can witness the sense of care and wonder Li demonstrates for her sons, noting and appreciating their differences and providing them with the space and support they needed to develop into authentic selves. Li contrasts these memories with her own experiences growing up in China, trained to be a mathematician, but secretly seeking to memorize ancient poems. She details some of the harshness that she experienced when she attempted to be her authentic self or express her own unique ideas in a society and culture that seemed to value conformity and accepting the norms over challenging them with one’s individuality. She shared some of these memories with her sons, and in one memory, explained that as a special guest in James’ 2^nd grade class, she shocked his classmates because she said that she didn’t like candy as a child. The story behind her distaste for candy is shocking, but it pales in comparison to the cruelty inflicted by her mother, who claims that Yiyun was the daughter she loved most. Li’s mother’s love can only be expressed through demands, control, and domination. In another story recalling her childhood, Li describes one of her mother’s methods to elicit compliance (and possibly guilt or shame) was to claim that Yiyun had a twin with whom her mother preferred to spend time, since this daughter was the exact opposite of Yiyun. Li’s mother would lock Yiyun in a room while her mother and sister would pretend to converse and laugh with Yiyun’s twin. Even more heartbreaking is the way Li describes her reaction to this kind of cruelty. I can understand how growing up in this kind of environment would lead someone to the kind of radical acceptance Li acknowledges was necessary in dealing with the loss of her sons. I can see how the kind of absurdity in facing violence and scorn as a child would require a kind of process of analysis and reflection to try to make sense of these events. It’s not my place to evaluate whether they are right or wrong or what kind of influence this had on Li. If anything, it seems to have made her more sensitive and considerate in how she raised her sons, valuing their qualities and nourishing their interests and passions.

Li uses the metaphor of gardening to also move towards radical acceptance, and this metaphor is also where the title comes from. In nature, plants and flowers grow and die. There are other factors that often make their growth more challenging- animals, weeds, weather, and while we can tend to gardens and try to cultivate conditions that allow our plants to thrive, we cannot control everything about nature. We cannot have continuous growth throughout the year. Plants die off in the fall and winter, only to grow again in the spring. Li acknowledges that while weeding and creating deterrents for animals may be important, she also cannot remain angry or upset at their nature.  I appreciated this metaphor for parenting. We are always trying to cultivate the best environment and opportunities for our children to grow. However, we cannot control everything. And while it is in our nature to grow, it is also in our nature to die. It is a sad reality, but a fact nonetheless, and a fact that accepting may relieve us of some anger or anxiety. Li also explains that she doesn’t see grief as a process with an endpoint. It is something that will be her with always, just as she continues to view herself as a mother of two sons. I agree with Li’s explanation of grief; while my situation is nowhere near Li’s, even though my father has been dead for some time, there’s still a kind of hole or emptiness. While this hole was much greater in the time right after he died, it’s gradually reduced in size over the subsequent years. Yet, there’s always going to be reminders about his absences. My kids have never met him, and they always have questions about him. My wife never met him either, and she’s asked how they might get along. I wonder how he would view my home, what advice he might give, what he would think about the world right now. It’s not something that makes me sad or nostalgic, but just something that is there- a slight opening or void that is a part of me. For me, Li’s explanation of grief of having no terminal point is relevant in this regard. I also appreciated the book from this perspective. It’s not like a manual explaining what to do or how to act in the event of loss, but Li explains how she continued to engage in her regular activities right after James’ death. She mentions going to a piano lesson in the week after James’ death, and talking with her teacher, and struggling with learning the pieces, but seeming to do well with a strange collection of piano exercises from Hanon that a friend described as “demented”. She doesn’t mention that these pieces relieved her or brought her joy, but rather it was something to do, something she could focus on to occupy her. In another section, she presents some practices she felt were important, and these included things like hydration, exercise, and getting up at a regular time. When my dad was in the hospital dying, I felt a similar kind of way, and it is actually how I started running. I just had all this nervous energy, and I felt like I couldn’t be at the hospital until I ran a few miles before hand, burning off some of the energy, but also making me more willing to accept how close death was to me. I also realized that I didn’t want to just sit around and ruminate, and that I needed to keep busy and occupy myself. I remember not really crying until a few weeks after his funeral, when it finally hit me. It’s definitely important to experience that kind of emotion, but at the same time, Li also mentions not allowing herself the time to ruminate in bed. I really appreciated this insights for helping someone navigate this unimaginable loss.

Finally, the other part of the book that stood out to me was how reading and writing factored into Li’s days after James’ death. She has mentioned reading Tolstoy in Where Reasons End, but in this book she mentioned several other works she frequently turned to after James’ death. Li references Greek and Shakespeare’s tragedies, but also noting that “Those ancient Greeks sing their grief at the highest pitch, which, as Carson pointed out, is rage. Their grief and their rage are nearly untranslatable, as though feelings in extremity can only be physical sensations— the language assails the readers with a blind and blunt force.” As she further explains, she didn’t necessarily lose her words, but they said something she had not and expressed their grief in another, more violent manner. While sometimes literature may present this kind of grief as a madness, Li’s reference to Constance’s grief in King John shows that our outward signs of grief can often be misconstrued, especially when the vocabulary of grief is so ill-defined by others. I really appreciated Li’s literary references to grief and loss throughout the book, as they help us understand how others may process grief. Not everyone may seek comfort in words (words, words, words), but reading and writing allow us not to ruminate. It’s interesting also since I recently read Sarah Chihaya’s brave memoir Bibliophobia about how books and reading can be both an experience in joy and exploration but also can bring terror and depression. Chihaya cites one of Li’s other books about Li’s own experience with depression and her suicide attempts. I haven’t read that book yet. I’ve almost been a little intimidated to engage with it. Yet, for Li, books, works of literature, plays, music, and other forms of art can be part of the process leading to radical acceptance. Recognizing that we aren’t alone in this, and being able to approach the facts of the situation and not impose our own reasons or blame for the events may help in this process. I’ll have to go back through this book to look at the reading list. While I may not want to read all of these works, it’s always good to receive recommendations. I’ll also have to revisit this book at other times; it’s such a beautiful book filled with touching moments, but also an awareness that things in nature grow. It’s not a manual, but it’s also not quite a memoir. It’s almost like meditations, where Li is able to deeply reflect on her sons’ lives and deaths. I’m very grateful for her willingness to be so honest and reflective, so thoughtful and considerate when the world may not always be the same. 

Questions about Creativity, Commerce, Corporations in Ling Ling Huang's Immaculate Conception

 Immaculate Conception by Ling Ling Huang

Immaculate Conception book cover

Author and musician (and artist) Ling Ling Huang

Big thanks to Penguin Group Dutton and NetGalley for allowing me to preview the best novel of the year I’ve read so far, Ling Ling Huang’s Immaculate Conception. Wow! I absolutely loved this book. I read Natural Beauty about 2 years ago, and I really enjoyed Huang’s sharp social satire and criticism of beauty standards and wellness culture in a kind of body horror novel. It was definitely not what I anticipated, but it was a fun and exciting read that offered some humorous and insightful social commentary; plus, the book predated The Substance, which also dealt with similar anxieties about appearance and identity in a culture and media that is obsessed with certain, unrealistic beauty standards. Although reading the synopsis for Immaculate Conception made me realize that this book might not be the same kind of body horror that was represented in Natural Beauty, I was still excited to read this book. Immaculate Conception shares thematic similarities with Natural Beauty, and Huang also effectively employs a kind of subtle satire to critique and question art and commerce, so the critique is still biting, but there is more ambiguity and questions since it is not as explicit and blatant as the criticism in Natural Beauty. While Immaculate Conception is not a horror story in the way that Natural Beauty is, this book is somewhat fantastical and more like a kind of science fiction. I felt like there were elements that were so fitting for the ways in which we rely on and seek out technology as a remedy and panacea for everything, from our boredom and identities to creativity. With all of the uncertainty surrounding artificial intelligence and how it may be used (or misused) for creative purposes, Immaculate Conception interrogates some of the issues and explores the ambiguities about art, creativity, and intellectual ownership. I’m still wrestling with many of the scenarios and issues that were raised in this book, beyond technology and focusing more on creativity, art, and commerce, and what each of these means in the digital age where there is less human hand and more machine learning in products, whether it is music, reading materials, or visual depictions. I’m so glad that Huang wrote this book now, and that the characters, mostly Enka and Mathilde, but also Logan and the Dahl Corp., allow readers to examine the moral and intellectual ambiguities of the creative process and art, and how art is informed by our own personal experiences and identities. 

Although this is a novel of ideas, it’s also a great story of friendship and jealousy, one that I didn’t initially realize until towards the end of the novel and then revisiting at the dedication “for the jealous”. The story revolves around two young artists, Enka and Mathilde, who are enrolled in the Berkshire College of Art and Design (BCAD). Enka narrates the story and immediately identifies Mathilde as someone who is incredibly gifted, with rumors swiriing around about her artistic experiences, internships with more established artists and possibly contributing to other famous artistic collectives, even before stepping foot on Campus. Enka, on the other hand, is one of the “non-enclave”, a possible socio-economic division that has arisen in society in which families like Enka’s have fewer resources and opportunities. Enka regularly notes that her peers in BCAD all probably had more access to art and supplies as “enclave” students, and therefore art, experience, and ideas all come to them much easier. I was a little unclear about what the distinction between the enclave and non-enclave was, but it seemed to have arisen because of Richard Dahl and his work with the Dahl Corp. I appreciated that the distinction was somewhat ambiguous and mysterious, allowing readers to draw their own conclusions about what this meant for a student like Enka, and how her limited experiences and access to resources would affect her ability to study, create, and engage in the artistic process in a school like BCAD. If anything, it allows Huang to focus more on the story and characters, and especially establishing the strong bond that Enka formed with Mathilde as Mathilde created more engaging and elaborate art projects based on her life experiences. Enka finds Mathilde one day in the bathroom, drained of blood, used for her art. She helps Mathilde, bringing her to the studio and checks in on her frequently, gradually bringing Mathilde back to reality and not allowing her to dive too deep into the artistic abyss. Enka’s gesture of placing her palm on the window serves as a personal connection when Mathilde seems both consumed by the artistic process but also consumed the loneliness and sadness that seem to compel her to work and that pervade her artistic output. This gesture and interaction, means different things to each woman, but it is something that bonds them throughout the later events in the story. 

As Enka and Mathilde develop their friendship, Enka realizes the power of Mathilde’s creativity and how Mathilde is able to harness the tragedies and trauma in her life to make meaningful art that engages and enthralls audiences. In one piece, Mathilde re-creates her father’s last moments, using a voicemail message to repeat his final words. Mathilde’s father was on one of the flights that crashed on 9/11, and died when Mathilde was younger. However, Enka sees the reaction and while feeling sympathetic for Mathilde, also wishes that her art could move people in the same manner. While Enka works with technology and art, finding ways to “expose technology’s limited ability for representation,” Mathilde seems more interested in developing experiences—that is looking at the ways that art can be a fleeting experience that is only remembered, but never preserved. She thinks more about installation pieces, and how people can interact with art, not just examine and observe. I loved the artistic ideas that Huang presents here, and I am always amazed when writers or directors develop these kind of artistic projects that are not real but seem so real. Otessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation had some hilarious art projects that were hilarious critiques, but also had the patina of reality, which made the critique even more enjoyable. Similarly Huang develops some realistic projects, and I even thought Enka’s project of having the technology of her childhood connected to fake umbilical cords was an interesting concept. Apparently, Mathilde did too, since she later represented birth and umbilical cords in a later art project, something that Enka notices as well that leads to some feelings of jealousy and resentment from Enka. She not only begins to feel jealous, but her sense of being an imposter at the school becomes heightened. To me, Enka seemed like someone who was struggling with imposter syndrome, constantly unsure of her place in the school, questioning whether her work was good enough. Like the narrator in Natural Beauty, Enka questions her identity and whether she made the right choice as an artist. I supposed that this is something that probably all artists experience—I’m almost certain that most college students probably experience this kind of feeling of whether they made the correct choice or not. We also know that minorities and first generation college students also experience the imposter syndrome acutely, to the point where it may even affect their grades or emotional well-being. As I was reading about Enka struggling with her identity and place in the school, I kept thinking about the imposter syndrome and how defeating and challenging it can be, especially when one may perceive their peers achieving and doing more than they ever could. However, Enka seems to also be driven by jealousy and resentment, especially in regards to Mathilde’s increasing stature in the art world. While Enka is amazed at Mathilde’s achievements, she ends up using their relationship as a lever which she can control Mathilde’s access to her. I won’t get into the details about how their relationships change over the course of the novel, but I can see a different side of Enka after finishing the novel. 

In addition to art, Enka pursues an opportunity with the Dahl Corporation, a mysterious mega-conglomerate that has had projects involving cloning and control of the internet. It also seems like the Dahl Corp. had something to do with creating the Enclave and Non-Enclave distinction. As Enka feels more and more desperate about her future in art, she sees an experimental study with Project Scaffold, a new experimental treatment for trauma from Logan Dahl, the son of Richard Dahl, the CEO of Dahl Corp. Project Scaffold seeks to build a kind of wireless neural emotional support from one person to another—developing a kind of psychic empathy, where one person can take on another’s trauma. Logan likens this to sucking the venom from a snakebite, where someone might experience a lesser degree of pain or venom, but they are doing so to help another person out. Doubting her abilities to be an artist, Enka sees this as a possible pathway to more creativity and pain, seemingly trying to plumb the depths of artistic trauma, just not her own, to find inspiration to making art. Yet, as a student at BCAD, a school that the Dahl Corp sponsors scholarships, Enka is deemed a conflict of interest, yet Logan Dahl takes an interest in her and hires her on as the Dahl artist in residence. Enka’s proximity to Logan, like her proximity to Mathilde, brings her more experiences and access to art, but not any true artistic inspiration. Eventually Logan proposes, and Enka agrees. I also loved these sections that describe her wedding planning and eventual motherhood. Logan’s mother becomes incredibly involved, making decisions about the wedding for Enka and Logan, but Enka also mentioned that “wedding planning, it turned out, was a wonderful way to distract myself from the disappointments in my life”. I never thought about it that way, and I hope my wife didn’t either, but I can see how some people may view wedding planning in this way. From Enka’s perspective, the wedding kept her away from the pressures of being an artist and focused her attention on other areas, even though her choices were largely bound by her mother-in-law’s preferences. Similarly, Enka’s descriptions about the challenges of motherhood and the kinds of doubts and questions Monika raises were all something I felt when my kids were born. It’s this kind of creative act where I felt so inadequate and unsure, and any kind of advice or offers of help I sometimes questioned whether they were intended well or not. Even with the privilege that marriage to Logan brings, Enka still remains jealous and resentful, although not overtly. She seems to keep it inside, but still uses her relationship and access to Mathilde as a kind of lever she can press to make Mathilde feel more lonely. 

 

Again, I don’t want to get into more specifics, but so many of the ideas surrounding art, originality, families, marriage, and technology are all so relevant to events and discussions that are happening today. For example, Enka has children, twins boys, but other characters struggle with fertility, while another character seeks out artificial insemination. Given the rise of pro-natalists in the government and how there is a focus on the declining birthrate, it was interesting to read about these issues and how some of the characters were obsessed with lineage and inheritance. It also relates to the art projects, as it seems like Enka is seeking out the kind of recognition and acclaim from artists who have developed staying power, while Mathilde creates these kind of impermanent experiences of art installations that are more about interaction and engagement, and taking away memories. Similarly, we learn that Richard Dahl has a collection of rare medieval paintings of saints, but he only likes to keep them in a slight state of decay where the colors are beginning to fade to certain hues. I want to revisit this book to learn more about the connection between art and lineage, between these creative acts, and how they relate to who actually owns the art and why it was created. Furthermore, right before Enka drops out of BCAD, a new kind of AI program is developed that can create any kind of art, basically putting artists out of business. Artists are sued if they are found to copy anything in this Stochastic Archive. Enka finds that someone has created an umbilical art installation just like hers, and without the resources to fight a lawsuit, she decides to give up her art. Her classmates, who also have creative, unique art projects, try to come up with interesting alternatives, only to find themselves out of work and original ideas. I thought this was also a powerful question about the nature of art in the age of AI, and what constitutes originality. Since AI are digesting publicly available works online, should artists and others contributing to its massive corpus receive compensation for their works? Or will artists and other creative types continue to lose out while technology receives corporate funding? Furthermore, to receive funding for her projects, Mathilde develops a foundation, and although they fund her art projects, they also seem to take an incredible amount of responsibility for her well-being, even requiring her to live in certain places or receive specialized medical and mental health treatments. Their interest in Mathilde is not necessarily about her wellbeing, but rather her commodification and the ability to profit from her artwork, as we later learn about the commercialization of her art exhibits, where visitors can seemingly exit by the giftshop. Huang’s story and the events in this novel bring up questions about the nature of art—whether it is funding for art or who owns art. Even questions about what is the purpose of art—is it something that is a personal expression? Is it catharsis? Should art involve social commentary? I loved how she subtly imbues the narrative with these questions by creating these interesting art projects that make readers question the nature of art and creativity, and how technology may be helping or hindering this process (and its products). There’s so much to question and sort through, and Huang presents these ideas and ambiguities with such an engaging and creative story that is relative to so many people. Once I got into the second and third parts of the book (Middle Style and Late Style), I couldn’t stop reading it. I highly recommend this book since it was the best novel I’ve read this year. It’s an important book, that is not only full of ideas and questions about art, culture, society, friendship and altruism, but also told in such a compelling, engaging, and creative way. Highly, highly recommended book!

A Unique Twist on Haunted Houses: The Manor of Dreams by Christina Li

 The Manor of Dreams by Christina Li

The Manor of Dreams book cover

Author Christina Li

Thanks to Avid Reader Press/Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Christina Li’s exciting and intriguing new novel The Manor of Dreams. I enjoyed this book for its genre bending story and plot twists, as well as tracking how the characters have changed and what events affected them throughout their lifetimes in the alternating timelines between past and present. Furthermore, Li has some lucid and haunting descriptions of the atmosphere, landscape, and decay for the setting of this novel in a renovated family mansion that has fallen into disrepair once again. While this supernatural mystery might not be for everyone, I thought that Li’s writing, plot twists, and characters created a compelling and engaging world that kept me reading during the second half of the book. I also loved the play on words with the title, how it might refer to a dream house, but it is also about the nature of our dreams and what they mean. Vivian Yin, one of the main characters, experiences strange, haunting visions once she moves into Yin Manor, the house of her husband’s family that he has renovated for both of them. Other characters also experience similar strange visions, tremors in the middle of the night, and plants that seem to want to consume people.

The Manor of Dreams starts with the recent death of one of its main characters, Vivian Yin, the first Chinese actress to win an Academy Award. Her surviving daughters, Rennie and Lucy and Madeline, Lucy’s daughter, arrive at the house to review the will and sort through their Ma’s items. However, they were unaware that the daughter of her mother’s housekeeper and gardener, Elaine Deng, would be in attendance with her daughter Nora. “Part One: Root” establishes an incredible amount of tension between these two groups of women, the Yins and the Dengs. Lucy and Rennie have not seen Elaine for some time, and based on the tension and Elaine’s rule that Nora should not speak to the Yins, Li has established that there is some bad feelings and resentment between these two families. To add to the tension, Lucy and Rennie are surprised to learn that their mother only had about $20,000 to leave them as an inheritance, and Vivian left the house to Elaine. This surprise gift, along with learning that Vivian changed her will about one week prior to her death adds to Lucy’s suspicion that Elaine had something to do with Vivian’s death. Lucy begins to investigate, while Elaine digs in and claims the house as her rightful inheritance, although she does allow Lucy, Madeline, and Rennie to stay in the house and sort through Vivian’s things for the week. Lucy really wants to search around for evidence of Elaine’s involvement in the will change and Vivian’s death. This section also establishes some of the traits of these characters as we learn that both Lucy and Rennie lived privileged lives, attending boarding schools. Lucy became a lawyer, while Rennie pursued acting and modeling. Neither was particularly close with Vivian in her last years, as Vivian seemed to become a recluse, rarely going out and even firing home help aides that Lucy hired. We also learn that Elaine was in a PhD program, but eventually left since it was not a career for her and Nora was about to be born. Both daughters, Madeline and Nora, are right around the same age, yet have had different experiences that bring them to this strange encounter over a contested house. Furthermore, both daughters receive warnings to keep out of the garden, yet both are somehow drawn there, with Madeline eventually ending up there. This garden appears strange, and offers some of Li’s most atmospheric and interesting descriptions: “She leaned in, expecting the buds to have a faint, sweet scent. But instead the petals emitted that raw, sharp odor of rust.” Flowers, especially these kinds of strange, decaying and rotting varieties, feature prominently throughout the book, and not only contribute to the atmospheric mood of the book, but also represent the kind of decay and rot that is apparent throughout the house as well. Li’s writing and descriptions of the various decay around the house contribute to the feeling that death and decay are all around, and this kind of rotten decay is gradually overtaking the living, having some kind of impact on their behavior, their well-being, and their interactions with one another. I loved the way that Li includes this kind of symbolism throughout the book, and how the decay permeates throughout the plot. This section ends with Madeline somehow being engulfed by the plant and Nora coming to her rescue, tending to the wounds that the plant inflicted. I read The Ruins by Scott Smith last summer, and Li’s The Manor of Dreams might come in second to having some of the creepiest plants in a book.

“Part Two: Bloom” begins to examine the past to learn more about how Vivian Yin met her husband, the actor Richard Lowell, and how Vivian eventually broke into acting and attained acclaim and an Academy Award. These chapters alternate between the 70s, 80s, 90s, and the present. I also enjoyed the structure of the book, how readers are confronted with this mystery of why Vivian didn’t leave the house to her daughters, but rather to the daughter of her gardener and housekeeper with whom she seemingly had no contact for decades. These chapters gradually reveal what happened, helping readers understand not only Vivian’s background, but also those of Elaine and her younger sister Sophie. We not only learn more about Vivian’s experiences and struggles as a single mother and aspiring actress in 1970s California, but we also see the challenges she faces as a person of color and how limited roles were for her in films. Richard, on the other hand, seems to be a coveted actor who winds acclaim and seems to easily take on roles in popular and acclaimed movies. Nevertheless, the couple has a kind of competitive spirit between them that pushes them to excel in acting and to seek out other opportunities in filmmaking. Furthermore, Richard is interested in renovating his mother’s childhood home, which the family sold years ago. His fixation on the past and desire to recreate the past glory of his family in his own image bring about challenges, as he and Vivian experience a long period of fixing up the house, that almost never seems to end. Furthermore, when they move in, there are strange occurrences like tremors that only Richard feels, burst pipes, and hallucinations that Vivian witnesses. Vivian learns more about Richard’s family, although she learns through local library research since Richard doesn’t seem to want to discuss his family’s background. I found this a little odd, not only with Richard, but with so many of the characters in the book. While Richard especially seemed interested in rehabbing his family manor and reshaping it into his own vision, he didn’t really want to talk about his family history. Lucy, Rennie, and Elaine also don’t like to discuss their pasts with their daughters, and it seemed strange that they were all willing to meet up in this decrepit house and fight over its ownership, despite not really acknowledging the painful pasts that they share. However, I think that this is part of the message in the book- that there are consequences for failing to acknowledge one’s past, and that sometimes, failing to acknowledge the past can create a kind of haunting experience.

I won’t provide any additional plot details because there are many twists and unexpected turns throughout the book. Furthermore, Li’s parallel narratives that move between the present and the past help to unravel the mystery of why Vivian was leaving the home to Elaine and not her daughters. Initially, we are only left with Vivian’s final words to her lawyer, Reid Lyman, that leaving the home to her daughters would “ruin them.” As we move through Vivian’s past, her relationship and marriage to Richard, and the challenges she faced in Hollywood as an actor of color trying to find parts, we learn more about the steps she’s taken to protect her daughters and ensure they have the best in their lives. We also see that Richard’s family, including his mother, whose microaggressions towards her new daughter-in-law, distance themselves from the house, leaving readers to wonder whether the house itself is cursed, or whether there are other factors that may affect inhabitants of the house. I appreciated the ambiguity and mystery in this story, and Li’s gradual reveal of the backstory presents some intriguing events and twists. However, Li’s descriptions of the house, gardens, and flowers were especially evocative and effective in conveying the sense of decay and decadence within the home. This was the section that I couldn’t put down, and the short chapters that offered alternating perspectives of the different characters and their histories kept me engaged in the story. There is a final part of the book, “Rot”, that jumps back to the present and provides a climatic end to the story. Again, I don’t want to spoil this book since I hope that others will read it. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed this book. It wasn’t exactly what I expected. Although it is mysterious, I appreciated Li’s use of a kind of gothic horror throughout. Li presents a unique portrayal of the haunted house story, and leaves readers wondering about the nature of deceit, evil, and violence in relationships. Furthermore, it was interesting to note that these aren’t just romantic relationships, but we also see family relationships, and how withholding information and past events can impact our relationships with parents and siblings. Li’s symbolic use of decay throughout, whether in the house, plants, or even the hallucinations that some characters experience, also help to create the mysterious and eerie atmosphere of the book. I also appreciated how Li included Chinese language- characters and words- throughout the book to emphasize Vivian’s heritage and how she worked to maintain her culture in an industry and city that tended to stereotype her. It’s not something that I mentioned throughout this review, but it is another important part of the book. This is an exciting and engaging read. Highly recommended!