Vampires and Polar Night: 30 Days of Night: Falling Sun

 30 Days of Night: Falling Sun by Rodney Barnes; art by Chris Shehan and Maan House

30 Days of Night: Falling Sun cover

Rodney Barnes

Many thanks to IDW Publishing and NetGalley for the advanced copy of 30 Days of Night: Falling Sun. I wasn’t aware of this series, but I remember the film being an inventive and scary take on vampires, and realized that the film was originally based on an older comic series. The premise is great since Barrow, Alaska experiences a month long night of darkness, which would be attractive to vampires. In this story, both humans and vampires are confronted with past trauma, and they seek out new communities and opportunities in finding ways to survive. As readers, we are more likely drawn to Jalen, a young LA transplant who moves to Barrow with his uncle to escape the dangers of LA. Unbeknownst to Jalen, he’s running from the frying pan to the fire by going to Barrow. Around the same time, a group of vampires preparing for the month long darkness resurrects the soul of an old vampire leader using blood and ash. This resurrection leads to opportunities for vengeance, with the vampire seeking out revenge for his brother. The two stories of the survivors of Barrow and the vampires out for blood converge in a bloody standoff in the town.

This story has all the great elements of the classic vampire siege movie/story, whether it’s The Lost Boys, From Dusk Till Dawn, or the more recent Sinners. The townspeople eventually become trapped in a space and need to withstand the attacks from outside and within, sometimes battling among their own for dominance within the group. I actually really liked the vampires in this book too. While the story doesn’t delve too deep into their backstory, their ritual to bring back their leader is dark and creepy, with bloody and unique artwork by Chris Sheehan and Maan House. It’s also cool to see how the vampires have their own kind of hierarchy and seek out revenge, much like humans. Even though the story is about a group of vampires attacking a polar town plunged into darkness for a month, there were some elements that seemed somewhat unbelievable. For example, some of the gang members Jalen is fleeing from manage to get to Alaska from LA, and they bring their guns with them, creating an additional standoff that the humans must weather. I can see how this adds to the tension in the standoff, but it felt somewhat unbelievable that these gangbangers are going to suddenly make it to Alaska from LA. Nevertheless, I enjoyed this graphic novel, and I hope that there are other stories in this series coming out. Recommended!  

Son of the City: A Memoir by Dante Ross

Son of the City book cover

Author, A&R, but no scrub Dante Ross

I’ve been reading a bunch of music memoirs, especially about the downtown NY music scene. In the past few months, I read Thurston Moore’s Sonic Life and Chris Stein’s Under a Rock. Both books were good and explored how their respective bands benefitted from the diverse musical scenes that helped birth punk, noise, and alternative rock in the 1970s and 80s. Interestingly, both books had connections to the emerging Hip-Hop scene; Thurston Moore shared one episode where he either attended or almost attended Kurtis Blow’s Christmas Rappin’ recording; similarly, Blondie were a part of the downtown scence that included Basquiat, Keith Herring, Ramalzee, and Fab 5 Freddy, featuring Fab 5 in the song and video for Rapture. Dante Ross may have slightly overlapped with these memoirists too, but his experience growing up in NYC in the late 70s and early 80s was a little more outside of this downtown scene. I absolutely loved this book, and this was by far the most entertaining of the 3 music memoirs dealing with NYC’s downtown scene (as a side note, one other memoir, Kathleen Hanna’s Rebel Girl, was also fabulous and has a connection with the Beastie Boys, much like Dante Ross does). There were so many great elements to Dante Ross’s memoir. I found his voice to be so real and also entertaining. I loved that he used hip-hop vernacular that I haven’t heard for a minute. It added to a fun and relaxed style of narrative, even when some of his early life was not always a crystal staircase. Growing up with an absent drug addict father and an alcoholic mother who struggled with keeping a job and maintaining her mental well-being, Ross candidly and fearlessly shares how challenging this was with a wise and introspective perspective that seems to indicate how much he gained from these experiences trying to find shelter, friends, and food, or surviving, in NYC. While his mother had her own challenges, Dante also paints her as a committed activist who kept to her ideals. One story he shares about the NYC blackouts was really interesting and made me think about my own parenting and whether I maintain my principles in the face of challenging situations. Ross also shares how he helped his friend learn to read, diagnosing him as dyslexic when the schools had more or less given up on him. These experiences also help Ross explore his own privilege, despite not having much money and living a precarious situation at home. Although I knew about Dante Ross from De La Soul, I didn’t realize how deep and wide his musical roots are in NYC and beyond. Ross hung out with in the NYC hardcore scene that birthed the Cro-Mags, and shared his amazement at seeing Bad Brains in the early 80s. He also details the birth and evolution of the Beastie Boys, and these were some of the funniest and most joyous scenes in the book. I read Dan LeRoy’s great book about Paul’s Boutique, and this is another insider perspective about that time and the challenges that the Beasties faced in transitioning from Def Jam to Columbia. Furthermore, I think that Ross’s friendship with the Beasties and his participation in a wide array of musical styles early on helped shape his perspectives on hip-hop. Ross eventually falls in with Tommy Boy, helping to bring De La Soul to a larger audience. Looking at De La Soul, Queen Latifah, and A Tribe Called Quest, all acts that Dante Ross had a hand in getting record deals, you can see how his omnivorous musical tastes helped him work with these artists who were different from the more mainstream B-Boy brand of hip-hop. These acts, and Dante Ross’s role in promoting these acts, really helped to challenge the boundaries of hip-hop, extending them for the better and re-shaping the rules for what was acceptable in hip-hop circles. I think that the diversity in the downtown NYC musical scene had a lot to do with this. These acts, not quite alternative or backpack rap yet, brought in different , jazzier samples, conscious lyrics, and an Afrocentric sensibility towards fashion. It was really interesting to see this theme running through the artists that Dante Ross worked with throughout his career. I loved reading the later chapters as well. It’s not just Dante Ross’s voice that is so enthralling, but also the fact that he was working with so many of the rappers and groups that I loved in my early adolescence. Reading through this book was like reminiscing—but also learning since Ross shares some incredible stories of working with artists like Leaders of the New School, Pete Rock and CL Smooth, Grand Puba and Brand Nubian, MF DOOM (Cev Luv X of KMD), 3^rd Bass, Guru, I could just go on, but this was like the wall of cassettes and crates of records in my high school bedroom. Reading about working with ODB, KMD and later DOOM provided me with an insider’s perspective of these artists, and I really liked that his detailing of his close work with ODB and DOOM helped to provide another viewpoint, showing how thoughtful and creative these artists were. I think that many people recognize DOOM’s creative genius, but Ross explains that he has been upset about how people view ODB, and his stories helped to show how intentional and creative ODB was in creating his persona and the arti and design for his album. Although I’m not a big fan of Everlast’s solo work, Dante Ross produced and really had a hand in helping Everlast get this album going. This was also a great section of the book. His descriptions about the challenges and health risks they faced in creating this album were captivating. I loved learning more about the creative process of making music, and especially the technical aspects of it. I’m amazed to see how Dante Ross didn’t really have a music background beyond being a huge fan, and worked his way up from working in the mail room at a nascent Def Jam to become a creative force in not only artist and repertoire, but also in production and beat making. It was really cool to see his own growth in the field—working with artists and record labels—and eventually moving into musical production. I really appreciated Ross’s candidness about his life, whether sharing about his family, his loves and losses, or his substance abuse and eventual sobriety. I felt like beyond the entertainment of the stories he shares, he also drops knowledge about career management, relationships, both romantic and platonic, and mental health. Maybe it’s all that conscious hip-hop he’s been a part of, but he’s skilled at subtly kicking science to the masses. Finally, I loved that I finished this book on father’s day. I didn’t know anything about Dante Ross’s dad, but he starts the book out talking about how his dad was the kind of motivating force in starting the book; his later chapters go over being with his dad during his final year or so. It was really beautiful, and I can tell that the sobriety has given him some perspective on his relationship with his father and his eventual passing. As someone who also had a complicated relationship with his father, it helped me remember the better times and how I was able to be there for my dad during his final month. I really resonated with Ross’s experience of being there and wanting to be there despite the specter and impending fear of death. I realized that this experience had something to teach me. It was kind of like a nice connection I felt to Dante Ross’s experiences. One other final note, I loved that Dante Ross described another A&R who he disagreed with as “a mountain climber who plays an electric guitar”. Loved that Protect Ya Neck reference. Always thought that was hilarious 90s stereotyping. If you are a music fan or a fan of memoirs, this is a great one to read, even if you are not familiar with Dante Ross or the artists he’s repped over time. Chances are, you’ve encountered some of the music he’s had a hand in bringing to a larger audience, whether your from the 80s, 90s, or later. Really great memoir, and I hope that Dante Ross has more books coming out. 

 Under a Rock by Chris Stein

Under a Rock book cover

Musician and author Chris Stein

Thank you to Netgalley and Macmillan Publishers for allowing me to preview Chris Stein’s unflinching memoir Under a Rock. While I’m not a major Blondie fan, I’ve always enjoyed their poppy music, and I generally love memoirs by musicians, especially those detailing the downtown/CBGB’s music scene of the mid to late 70’s. Chris Stein’s book is a great addition to other books detailing this important time period in American music and beyond. Beyond the music, Stein has led a really interesting life, and reading about his pre-Blondie years, growing up in Brooklyn, travelling to the West Coast and going to Woodstock, as well as attending an alternative school in NYC with other musicians and artists was fascinating. His stories feature some amazing characters and incredible events. The strength of his book, though, details his time with Blondie, forming the band, starting up around the same time as the Ramones and Television, and eventually gaining popularity. Beyond being more pop oriented than some of the other downtown bands, Blondie also incorporated art in unique ways, and Stein’s background as a visual artist, both in photography and videography, probably added to the band’s integration of visual arts with their music. It’s interesting to look back on Blondie’s output and realize how much Debbie Harry’s image was associated with Blondie. However, Stein also shares that Blondie was also one of the first bands to create a video album to go along with their LP. I loved reading about Stein’s time with other musicians and artists, especially how close Blondie was with Iggy Pop, David Bowie, William S. Burroughs, and Andy Warhol. Although this larger section detailing the development and success of Blondie was the strongest of the book, it was also the most harrowing since this was also the time when Stein’s casual drug use eventually spiraled into full-blown heroin and cocaine addiction. Stein details his addictions and some of the depths that it took him to, eventually seeking out methadone treatment to manage his heroin addiction. As Stein notes in his epilogue (which you must read), it’s important not to glamorize addiction the way some artists have. He documents friends who died from overdoses, and the health struggles that he experienced as a result of his habit. The later chapters dealing with the dissolution of Blondie and eventual reformation kind of fly by. I actually had a hard time following along with his timeline of events, and it wasn’t until the section dealing with 9/11 that I kind of caught up with his timeline. In fact, this is probably the one shortcoming I found with Stein’s writing. There weren’t many transitions or connectives in the text, and this led to a kind of stream-of-consciousness thought-process on the page. I found it more with his early life and his later sections. The events jumped around and paragraphs were listed without any sense of how one event related to another—whether it was sequential, emotionally linked, or some other kind of connection. Sometimes, events that were seemingly non-events were listed without any explanation of their significance, making me question its inclusion. Nevertheless, Stein is an important musician and artist, and I appreciated learning more about his involvement in this seminal scene of music. 

 

The United States of Cryptids by J.W. Ocker

 The United States of Cryptids: A Tour of American Myths and Monsters by J.W. Ocker

The United States of Cryptids book cover

Author J.W. Ocker

Ocker’s The United States of Cryptids isn’t quite an encyclopedia, but it is a great reference book and a fun travelogue of Ocker’s quest to document Cyptids in each state/region in the US. I read this along with my son, thinking that he might want to read more about myths and monsters. After riding on the Jersey Devil roller coaster, both of my kids became interested in learning more about the Jersey Devil, and Ocker documents a good amount about the history and cultural legacy of NJ’s most famous cryptid. Each chapter for the book was relatively brief, and I really enjoyed reading about Ocker’s ideas to honor and promote each state’s cryptid. He frequently mentions statues or plaques that would identify sightings, legacy, or other important information about these cryptids. Beyond these recommendations, Ocker’s book can also serve as a great road trip guide for adventurous families and cryptid hunters. He shares where he found more information about these cryptids, as well as some of the annual traditions that might involve honoring the legacies of these mythological creatures. I loved learning about some of the towns and their festivals, parades, or even ceremonies to honor cryptids. One town in Minnesota had an annual gnome festival that made gnomes from the likenesses of townspeople they wanted to fete for the year. It was a really nice way to recognize the contributions of a town. I was surprised to learn that a fair amount of the cryptids stories are created to drum up tourism or promote visiting these towns, and this practice even goes back to the 1800s, when a sea serpent was manufactured to attract visitors to the town’s hotel. Although many of the stories are unbelievable and some are blatantly false or rumors, it is still fun to read about these creates and wonder what some of the more unexplained phenomena might be. Despite these concise chapters, Ocker manages to convey enough information about the origins and history of these, and frequently makes connections to other cryptids in other states or regions. My e-book also had links back to the other cryptids. I’m looking forward to reading some of Ocker’s other books—I have the cursed objects book and read that he has a book about cults coming out, which I really can’t wait to read. Overall, this was a fun and easy read that gave me plenty of ideas about possible road trips or places to visit. 

 Hip-Hop Is History by Questlove

Hip-Hop Is History book cover

Drummer, author, and hip-hop historian Questlove

Questlove’s phenomenal new book Hip-Hop Is History is a must read for any hip-hop fans and music fans in general. Questlove starts by discussing the 50^th anniversary of Hip-Hop’s start, and how he was tasked with organizing the celebration for the Grammy Awards. It is an interesting story that begins to give readers who may be unfamiliar about the scope and depth of Hip-Hop, trying to organize all the different styles and contributors, as well as their egos and personalities, into a short, allotted time frame. I really enjoyed reading about the stress involved in this process, and this story provided an effective set up for the history of Hip-Hop, according to Questlove. While I don’t dispute that Questlove is one of the strongest advocates and most knowledgeable people about Hip-Hop, I did find some places where there were some omissions in his chapters. Thankfully, his list at the end of the book incorporated more artists and groups that I felt were deserving of more time. It’s also just a great snapshot of different eras in Hip-Hop. Interestingly, Questlove organizes the book chronologically, but also pairs each era in Hip-Hop with its drug of choice. I thought this was an interesting choice, but he makes a compelling point showing not necessarily how the drugs themselves, but the social impacts and influences from the drugs (including legality, police enforcement, prison, etc) have impacted the music. It’s why he spends some time discussing PE’s “Night of the Living Bassheads” in the “Back in the Incredible” chapter detailing the golden age of Hip-Hop from 1987-1992, and then exploring the influence of The Chronic, both album and drug, on the “While I Get My Proper Swerve On” (1992-1997). While I loved how Questlove discusses these albums and singles and how he conveys his own personal connection with much of the music in these chapters, he goes beyond just being a fan (or musical contributor) and delves into critical analysis of the music, the styles, and the rhymes. He brings in not just a historical perspective, but also a sociological perspective, examining issues happening in society and relating these events to styles and innovations in Hip-Hop. I was especially surprised to hear how critical and honest Questlove was in this book. He not only discusses calling out certain MCs (Da Baby), but also discusses not initially liking some music and questioning the work of other artists he looked up to (1991 albums from PE and Prince). I really appreciated his candor and honesty in discussing this music, but also appreciated how he sometimes revisited certain songs or music and gained a new appreciation. I think that this book not only provides a history and sociology of Hip-Hop, but also provides new ways to listen to music across different eras. I think that my favorite chapters were those dealing with the early to golden age of Hip-Hop from about 1979-1997. I related to a lot of Questlove’s experiences, remembering the first time I hear Wu-Tang or PE and feeling a kind of transformation—although he mentioned not liking the production values of Enter the 36 Chambers, I felt like it was the varied styles of the MCs that really drew my interest. I also remember having to sneak Hip-Hop into my house since my parents held certain assumptions about it. Now, my mom knows Snoop Dog from his work with Martha Stewart and my kids know Snoop Dog from his cartoon work. I was wondering where DITC fits into some of these chapters- especially Showbiz & AG, but for the most part, Questlove is a completist, and I know that he was trying to keep his list focused and representative of the best Hip-Hop. Although as the book progresses into more recent times and the chapters become shorter, Questlove provided me with some great points of entry for accessing today’s Hip-Hop. I loved how Questlove references artists like Kendrick Lamar who are going back to other eras from Hip-Hop to represent. It’s reassuring to know. This book is not just for music fans, but I could see teachers making excellent use of this book for their students. I would love to use this book to have students develop their analytical skills, researching different eras and identifying and explaining the differences between the eras of Hip-Hop—or taking the historical events and seeing how songs and artists from those eras dealt with or addressed some of the events. There’s so much to consider in this book. Highly recommended.

 

A Prequel- Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange

 Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange

Wandering Stars book cover

Author Tommy Orange

“Here now doing it, I’m already regretting that I hadn’t before, while also regretting that I’m doing it now. Feelings are always so twinned, with opposite meaning.” (305).

Tommy Orange’s magnificent follow-up (and prequel) to There There traces the history of the Bear Shield and Red Feather families, where we find out how they arrived in California, as well as much of the generational trauma that they have experienced being Native Americans where land, culture, history, language, identity, hair and dress, and even voice were systematically removed. The book starts with Jude Star and Victor Bear Shield, and how their experiences being transported from the Sand Creek Massacre to Fort Marion in Florida, where the goals were to civilize the Indians. These chapters also trace the experiences of Charles Star, Jude’s son, who ends up in the Carlisle Indian School. Much of this early part, told in stream of consciousness from various characters’ perspectives, reminded me of Toni Morrison’s Beloved. Orange has this way with his sentences where he uses chiasmus, using parallelisms and reversals. I loved following these twisty devices as we get into some of the absurdity these characters’ experiences trying to maintain a sense of identity, amidst the systematic destruction of their culture and community. Orange starts the second part, dealing with more of the present situation and following Opal, Jacquie, and the boys Orvil, Loother, and Lony, with a quote from Beloved that emphasizes the importance of stories and legacy, especially oral legacy. I really love that quote, and it was amazing to see how Orange finds relevance in Beloved’s story of redemption and redefinition after trauma and horror.

One of the other strengths of this book is the way that Orange melds his characters’ stories and lives with historical events, just like There There, bringing a sense of reality to these characters. He expertly weaves in historical events and incidents. Whether from the Sand Creek Massacre, the Carlisle School, or and other historical events, we see how Indians were a part of this history, but also how this history is frequently told from one perspective, failing to acknowledge either the destruction and devastation it has caused or how other people participated in these events. This aspect also reminded of a quote from Beloved where Schoolteacher says something along the lines of “definitions belong to the definers.” Wandering Stars seeks to redefine the role of Native Americans in American History by acknowledging where they have been and where they are now. Orange’s realistic characters help to provide a means to further discover this hidden history and unearth the contributions and wrongs experienced by Native Americans, while also helping to maintain some of their identity and culture.

Just like Beloved, this is a book about family and love in spite of difficult, often violent opposition and refusal of culture/identity. I won’t give the ending away, but I loved how the family (for the most part) comes together to find their strength within each other. Furthermore, the book deals with topics that many people experience including violence, addiction, loss, and identity. Tommy Orange is one of the most skilled writers in exploring the language of teens and young adults and how communication online has shifted things for everyone. The sections focusing on Orvill and Sean are interesting. I really liked reading about Sean’s discovery of his identity, and how it almost creates more confusion than certainty with him since he has no Native American friends to turn to. These sections were some of the most fun to deal with. I also felt like the parts that dealt with music were well-written and thoughtful. I remember reading that Tommy Orange studied engineering, and the way he writes about music combines both some technical knowledge with a passion for sound and music. This was an amazing book, and one that I am sure will be taught in many classrooms. I also think it is an engaging book for students as well as adults. I would love to see this book in more book groups. Highly recommended

Paradise of the Damned by Keith Thomson

 Paradise of the Damned: The True Story of an Obsessive Quest for El Dorado by Keith Thomson

Paradise of the Damned book cover

Author Keith Thomson

Thank you to Netgalley and Little, Brown and Company for allowing me to read this advanced copy of Keith Thomson’s Paradise of the Damned: The True Story of an Obsessive Quest for El Dorado. Thomson’s book was a well-researched and detailed story of Sir Walter Raleigh’s lifelong quest to find El Dorado, starting from Elizabethan England and moving to Colombia, Venezuela, Guiana and the Orinoco River in South America. The book primarily follows Raleigh, tracing his early years spent in Elizabeth’s court and how he came to exploration and sailing. Thomson’s book features much adventure and many mishaps, especially around the war for the New World in the Americas between Spain and England. The book’s best parts are when Raleigh is in South America, looking for El Dorado while also navigating uncharted rivers, streams, waterfalls, and avoiding unknown predators like anacondas, alligators, and piranhas. It was fascinating to gain a deeper insight into how dangerous the new world was, mostly because of how unknown the terrain was. I also enjoyed learning more about Raleigh’s earlier approaches to diplomacy and finding ways to ensure that the Spanish would not beat him to El Dorado and how he sought out indigenous support from existing tribes. The other parts of the book that took place in England were not as exciting to me. I did not know much about Sir Walter Raleigh, so this book provided an engaging biography, but I was surprised to learn that in England at the time, the rule of law, especially things like evidence and due process were not really part of the society. Thus, reading about Raleigh’s years in prison for a kind of hearsay association with a plot to overthrow King James was important to know about. This also somewhat mirrored Raleigh’s earlier experiences with Queen Elizabeth when he was imprisoned for having a child with his future wife without informing the Queen. Thomson’s sharing of these events and the injustices that Raleigh faced helped to illustrate the kind of whims of the crown that many people, especially prominent people, faced. Although these parts dealing with the legal practices of England were important, I found them to be not as exciting as the chapters set in South America and dealing with the quest for El Dorado. It was also surprising that King James let Raleigh return to find El Dorado, despite being imprisoned for pretty much treason (even if the charges were never really tried). Raleigh’s second campaign, when he was in his 60s, did not go well. Like his initial quest to El Dorado, the hope was to bring money back to England in the form of gold. However, with a strong Spanish presence in the areas in Venezuela, Colombia, and Guiana he struggled to return to some of the areas he visited in 1590s (about 20 years prior). I won’t spoil the ending, but Raleigh does return to England without any gold, failing once again to find El Dorado and dealing with a hungry, tired, and mutinous crew. This leads Raleigh to face King James’s wrath and power. Most of this book was exciting, and I loved the images that Thomson selected to accompany these chapters. They really helped to illustrate the challenges and individuals involved in Raleigh’s various quests. While the book primarily focused on Raleigh’s quest, there were some other chapters that dealt with English and Spanish relations during this time, as well as Raleigh’s time spent imprisoned. These were necessary to understand some of Raleigh’s motivations for seeking out El Dorado once again, and the consequences of his failure to find it and bring home any gold. These sections were not as exciting but helped understand the broader perspective of this society. 

Candy Darling: Dreamer, Icon, Superstar by Cynthia Carr

 

Candy Darling book cover

Author Cynthia Carr

Big thanks to Netgalley and Macmillan Publishers for allowing me to read Cynthia Carr’s brilliant biography of Candy Darling, Dreamer, Icon, Superstar. This book was incredible and moving, thanks to Carr’s ability to utilize the interviews and experiences of Jeremiah Newton, who was one of Candy’s closest confidants and friends in NYC in the late 60s and early 70s. I didn’t know much about Candy Darling. What I knew was mostly from music—especially the Velvet Underground’s excellent and sad song “Candy Says”, which I still think is one of their most moving songs. I remember hearing it for the first song and being so struck. It was so different than a lot of their other songs that I knew, and it also spoke to that feeling of questioning your identity, being unsure, unhappy, and looking for some kind of validation or answer to the question of who you are. Hearing that song in my early 20s was resonant, although I didn’t experience any kind of body dysmorphia, the song really speaks to that kind of uncertainty most people go through in late adolescence and early adulthood. Carr’s book Candy Darling explores Candy’s experience throughout her whole life of struggling with the lack of acceptance of who she really was. Although the entire book is engaging, entertaining and moving, reading about Candy’s early life growing up in Long Island as James Slattery was fascinating and important for others to read, especially as there are issues in other states about access to gender care, access to bathrooms and facilities, and movements to prevent equity and fair treatment for individuals who identify as LGBTQ. It was heartbreaking to see how the treatment of Candy at home, in her neighborhood and at school really made her just want to escape. Yet it was clear that she identified as a girl, and that people frequently assumed she was a woman later in life. I wondered how different her life would have been had she experienced more acceptance and acknowledgement of who she really was, both by friends and family. These experiences pushed her out of school, frequently truant, and into studying beauty. It was good to see how happy she became as a result of this. It was amazing to learn how Candy’s experiences, struggles, and challenges remain today for many people in the Trans community. However, it was also fascinating to see how identifying as a woman pushed Candy away from the LGB community as well as the feminist community. Candy’s story is amazing. It was incredible to see how she eventually created this superstar persona and found work on stage and screen. Beyond reading about Candy’s relationships, friendships, and adventures in 60s-early 70s NYC, I loved learning more about the Off Off Broadway scene and the Underground Film movement that Warhol and Paul Morrisey participated in. While not a huge fan of Warhol’s films, it was interesting to read more about how Candy became a part of the Superstar scene, and how despite Warhol’s frequent shedding of Superstars, he kind of stuck with Candy and gave her a place and opportunities. I found reading Candy’s diary entries to be the most affecting part of the book since they provide a real insight into her thoughts and struggles with who she was, what she wanted, and how society and communities frequently rejected her. Yet, it was amazing to see how she created this identity and frequently created these stories (or maybe lies) to shape her status and place in the NY scene in the 1970s. Although the book is primarily about the short and brilliant life of Candy Darling, it is also about the gay rights movement, establishing a visible place for Trans people, who still remain greatly misunderstood, persecuted and unfairly treated, and the Art, Theater, and Film scenes of 1970s NY. This was a great book, and I’m looking forward to reading Carr’s other biography of David Wojnarowicz.
 

 

The Beauty of Friendship in Beautyland by Marie-Helene Bertino

 Beautyland by Marie-Helene Bertino

Beautyland book cover

Author and Philly Native Marie-Helene Bertino

This was an incredible book. I recently saw that it was listed as one of the best books of the year so far. When I read the description about the life of a alien-girl who is activated to send messages to her alien friends (whom she has never met) through a fax machine, I thought it sounded interesting; however, this description in no way captures the beauty and emotion in this book. I found myself wanting to read through as Adina (the self-identified alien) gradually moves through life, navigating school, friendships, work, and love. Her mother and friend, Toni, are consistently with her, as is her dog Butternut. I really enjoyed the book’s narration and it was interesting to see how later in Adina’s life, the book took more of a reporter approach (or at least I noticed it more towards the end of the book, when Adina seems more desperate to contact her alien home). Beyond just being a creative and lovely story about a person who struggles to find herself, I loved that this book was about someone who grew up around the same time I did and could share some of the same music loves (frequent mentions of Black Sheep, A Tribe Called Quest) and challenges experienced with navigating adolescence and adulthood. I felt like I could relate to a lot of Adina’s experiences, and I loved how kept her reports and observations to share with her alien family through the fax machine. I also loved how her observations became more astute and philosophical as she grew older. It was also great to see how Adina frequently faced challenges, and despite desiring consistency and a kind of uniformity, she still pushed herself for change when it was necessary. When she revists Beautyland (the store) to see how it has changed, the clerk mentions that it only recently changed, but was time for an update. I’m not sure if Adina expected things to remain the same, as this was a site of one of her first instances of a kind of awareness of her class, but I think this was a signal for her. The ending of the book gets a little bleak and sad. I found myself growing sad while reading along, but I think this was one of the great strengths of Bertino’s writing—it elicited such emotion and empathy with a unique character. I also loved her mother’s words to her about her perceptions and how Adina’s kind of fantasy world seemed to protect her, but also isolate her. This is one of those books that I will recommend to friends and give as a gift since I think many people, especially people my age, should read this. Especially if you grew up in Philly around the 80s and 90s and shopped at House of Bargains. While my mom took me to the one at Ivy Ridge Shopping Center, I totally could relate to the dim lights and overstuffed racks with Oshkosh and rainbow striped long-sleeve polos. I really can’t wait to read more from Bertino. 

Unlocking the Power of Plant Therapy: Trippy by Ernesto Londoño

 Trippy: The Peril and Promise of Medicinal Psychedelics by Ernesto Londono

Trippy book cover

Author Ernesto Londoño

Thank you to Netgalley and Macmillan Publishers for sharing this book with me. I was a little surprised to find an email with the opportunity to read this book, but I am glad that I was able to read it. Initially, I thought this might be in the same vein as Michael Pollan’s How to Change Your Mind. And in some ways it was- Londoño explores some medicinal and traditional or ceremonial uses of psychedelics, specifically ayahuasca. However, Londoño also takes a more personal and humanizing approach by exploring his own past and experiences with dealing with trauma, shame and depression, and how psychedelics helped him confront these powerful emotions in his life. He also explores the experiences of others—soldiers experiencing PTSD, queer participants in an LGBTQ only psychedelic ceremony, as well as addicts and others looking to regain a sense of self in the grip of past traumas. I also appreciated that this book looked at the history and current state of Ayahuasca, the sacred vine of the Amazon that has been growing as both a psychedelic therapy and a recreational trip that adventurous psychonauts seek out. It was fascinating to learn more about its use in Brazil and other Amazon areas. I remember reading William S. Burroughs’s The Yage Letters about his quest for Ayahuasca in the 1960s, not realizing that it was the same plant. I think that Burroughs came away somewhat disappointed, but Londoño shares both the benefits and harms in this increasingly popular plant therapy. While it was heartening to learn more about the increasing awareness of this plant’s powers, it was also sad to see the darker side of this plant therapy, where Londoño identifies some so-called shaman and spiritual guides who seemed more intent to take advantage of people’s desire to feel better and find a quick fix to negative emotional states like depression or past trauma. I was really surprised to learn how expensive some of the retreats were, considering that they are in the middle of the jungle and are a means to connect with nature. It was also shocking to learn more about how some of the curanderos, or healers, have also taken advantage of women. Londoño had some uncomfortable experiences with a healer in one retreat and shares the experiences of other women who experienced assault and harassment from another curandero. It seemed like a theme that these curanderos are treated with empathy and seen as fallible yet are still able to engage in the same kinds of behaviors. Londoño’s journalistic background helped to uncover this unsavory side of the Ayahuasca scene. Londoño also shared his own experience as a war correspondent, as well as his own family trauma. While I loved the investigative reporting of the Ayahuasca retreats, I also was enthralled by his fearless recounting of his family’s history of mental illness and his own experiences with past trauma and family of origin issues. Sharing his stories also allowed us to see how Ayahuasca allowed him to confront some of these feelings and come to grips with the unresolved issues that have plagued him. His experiences as a war correspondent were also part of the need to escape and not have strong ties, yet also left him with some incredibly traumatic experiences of violence and death that it seems like were impossible to process in a war zone as a reporter. This was also a common theme of the soldiers, who frequently felt like they undeserving of a PTSD diagnosis or were concerned about the baggage that label might bring. Londoño’s own experiences, as well as those of the soldiers were gripping, yet somewhat graphic. Be warned that while the book often recounts stories of those who overcame mental health and illness struggles, it also depicts some of the past traumas and issues they confronted. The book ends with the exploration of two other psychedelic therapies—ketamine infusion and MDMA. I liked how this part of the book ended on a high note, sharing the positive development of these alternative therapies and the soldiers that the MDMA treatments are helping. It leaves us with a slightly more hopeful look at the potential for psychedelic therapies, and I also think that with sharing some of the bad actors and grifters looking to capitalize on others seeking relief from traumatic emotional issues, the future regulation and clinical use of psychedelics seems necessary as a means to bring about change in both people and society. I really enjoyed Londoño’s book, especially his reporting and use of individuals and his own experiences to present this new and amazing field. This book is such a wonderful combination of many different genres—part investigative journalism, part history, part memoir, and social commentary. Highly recommended read that will hopefully change a lot of minds. 

Exploration and Exploitation: A Short, Strange Trip by John O'Connor

 A Short, Strange Trip: An Untold Story of Magic Mushrooms, Madness, and a Search for the Meaning of Life in the Amazon by John O'Connor

Short Strange Trip book cover

Author John O'Connor

Many thanks to Sourcebooks and NetGalley for the advanced copy of John O’Connor’s fascinating exploratory book about the life of psychonaut Terrence McKenna, A Short Strange Trip: An Untold Story of Magic Mushrooms, Madness, and a Search for the Meaning of Life in the Amazon. This was a fascinating book that is hard to categorize as it covers travel and adventure writing, which are O’Connor’s specialty, but it also includes elements of biography, memoir, and critical analysis of areas like mental health care, pharmacology, history, indigenous rights, and equity. In fact, I was surprised at the scope of the book’s various topics, but it does somewhat mirror the life and wandering (or maybe wondering) focus of Terrence McKenna, a man who was neither a scientist nor a philosopher, but seemed to have an impact on mycology, psychedelics, and even rave culture in the 90s before his untimely death at age 53 in 2000. I first learned about McKenna from Michael Pollan’s book How to Change Your Mind, where the esteemed food writer explores the history and influence of psychedelics, especially mushrooms. I remember the surprise that I hadn’t heard of McKenna before since he was an advocate for magic mushrooms who proselytized their use for finding deeper spiritual and philosophical meaning in life. McKenna had a fascinating life which included a trip to the Amazon in the early 70s chasing psychedelic plant medicine indigenous people have used for some time, but without much understanding of the history, reasons or cultural aspects of the uses. O’Connor’s book paints a detailed portrait of McKenna’s complications, raising questions of cultural appropriation, questioning whether McKenna’s intentions were genuine or whether he was just looking to continue exploring psychedelics. Interspersed within McKenna’s story and pursuit of higher consciousness is O’Connor’s own exploration of psychedelic therapy for his father, a retired, ivy-league educated lawyer whose struggle with alcoholism has distanced him from his family. As a kind of last resort to help his father, O’Connor convinces his father to try some forms of psychedelic therapy, highlighting the ways in which psychedelics like LSD, magic mushrooms, and ketamine have been used to treat addictions and other mental health issues like PTSD. It’s one of the more heart-felt and humorous parts of the book, with a strangely funny anecdote about his father’s heroic, McKenna-sized dose of mushrooms that has explosive results. Nevertheless, what O’Connor’s research into McKenna’s life reveals is that McKenna’s advocacy for mushrooms may have been empty, despite maintaining a public façade of support. After a bad trip sometime in the late 80s, he did not use mushrooms for about 10 years, according to interviews with McKenna’s ex-wife and brother, Dennis. These interviews, along with others who knew McKenna like anthropologist Wade Davis present a picture of a talented and enthusiastic psychonaut who lived much of his life underground, prior to the larger-scale interest and emerging industries in psychedelics, yet was never accepted by the intellectual or academic communities where psychedelic studies were building a foundation in collaboration with areas like medicine, pharmacology, psychology, philosophy, and religion. McKenna was kind of a like a man out of time, preceding many popular trends yet maintaining a small, but dedicated following in a field that has been growing in prominence and popularity.

There’s a lot to like about this book, especially if you enjoy books about travelling and exploring the jungle, history, and psychedelics. I remember seeking out Burroughs’ The Yage Letters for some time to learn more about his quest to locate ayahuasca, and similarly enjoying the more recent book about exploring the psychedelic tourist scene in Ernesto Londoño’s book Trippy. O’Connor’s book focuses primarily on McKenna’s journey to locate a rare plant oo-koo-he, mentioned by another ethnobotanist, in La Chorrera, an area in the Colombian Amazon. Instead, McKenna, his brother, and some friends ended up discovering psilocybe cubensis, a mushroom that led them to conduct a psychedelic experiment. I give credit to O’Connor for trying to make some sense of McKenna’s experiment since it’s not really an experiment, but actually a trip that led to some strange insights. It’s unclear what initiated Terrence’s belief that they might be able to transcend his consciousness into another dimension, seeing the mushroom as a kind of vehicle capable of this transportation. I found it somewhat humorous. Although Dennis seemed to suffer a bout of psychosis as a result of the heroic dose of mushrooms, this experience launched Terrence’s career as a psychedelic explorer and cultivator of mushrooms. Interestingly, Dennis went on to earn a PhD in botanical sciences, and with Terrence, authored a book on their experiences cultivating psychedelic mushrooms at home, bringing this species into the US counterculture. I found this part of the book fascinating as O’Connor recreates the journey through his own experiences traveling the same areas around the Colombian Amazon. O’Connor not only creates a compelling travelogue and story of exploration for a region rarely traveled by many Americans. However, he also raises a critical perspective, noting the region’s infamy as a site of exploitation by rubber companies in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. Frequently referencing the Belgian exploitation of the Congo and Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, O’Connor details some of the worst violence and butchery that the indigenous people of these areas faced from company bosses. O’Connor tells the story of John Brown, an American who ended up in this region working for a rubber company, who Terrence encounters. O’Connor’s research raises critiques about Terrence’s dismissal of indigenous ways while also ignoring or discounting the kinds of atrocities these companies perpetrated. It’s what leads to the more complicated portrait of Terrence, who despite being a countercultural liberal, nevertheless remained blinded by some of his own biases and ethnocentrism.

I really enjoyed reading O’Connor’s details of both his and McKenna’s journeys, separated by nearly 50 years. He paints a detailed picture of the jungle terrain, as well as many of the difficult obstacles and challenges that Westerners might experience trying to traverse this terrain for the first time. However, I also found myself struck by the kinds of observations and arguments about ethnocentrism and exploitation that O’Connor raises. Much like Londoño’s book, O’Connor also notes how the idea of psychedelic tourism has reshaped the region and created a new economy that most likely neglects or redefines the kind of plant medicinal work that may have been a staple for the region for at least a century. I also found it interesting that O’Connor posits that ayahuasca use may have been the result of some of the terror and trauma that indigenous people experienced, seeing it as a medicine to deal with the generational trauma that was inflicted by the exploitation of the land. It’s something that Terrence didn’t seem to consider, imposing his own ideas about shamanism and medicinal plants on the Amazon region, which eventually led to his “stoned ape” theory about the development of consciousness. Although it’s widely dismissed, O’Connor manages to speak to some anthropologists and researchers who acknowledge there might be some truth to the use of psychedelic plants and medicines by our ancient ancestors.

The last section of the book features a kind of psychedelic conference where Rick Perry, of all people, ends up speaking. It’s a completely surreal scene that O’Connor manages to detail with both humor and horror, raising questions about the inclusion of minorities in plant medicine and sharing their own perspectives about skepticism regarding institutionalized medicine. He seems to be saying that the rise of these kinds of alternative medical spaces, where psychedelics have been spilling over into institutionalized medicine, have failed to be inclusive and continue to exploit those who not only originated the practices (appropriation), but also are moving to a kind of commodification of these spiritual and cultural practices as a means to address our current malaises. It’s something that I need to consider more, but I found this section of the book to raise some of the most pointed and important questions that I’ve never considered about psychedelics. Furthermore, with the recent focus on Ibogaine as a drug of importance for therapeutic purposes, it is clear that psychedelics and plant medicine are moving more into the mainstream as both a vehicle for personal exploration and a means of healing past trauma. O’Connor’s book explores not only the complicated nature of psychedelics in America since McKenna’s experiment in 1971, but also the fraught history of exploitation and cultural appropriate of plant medicine for recreational and personal use, as opposed to more communal, spiritual activities. This book is hard to classify, but it appeals to many different genres, including memoir, biography, history, and social criticism. I enjoyed many parts of the book, and found myself amused by O’Connor’s frequent allusions, which seem to sometimes manifest out of nowhere. Nevertheless, he makes these trips both entertaining and emotional. I really want to check out his book on bigfoot (The Secret History of Bigfoot), which also sounds like it has its own unique journey and exploration. However, I recommend this book, especially if you are a fan of reading about plant medicine, psychedelics, and learning more about the fascinating life of psychonaut Terrence McKenna.  

The Eyes are the Best Part

 The Eyes are the Best Part by Monika Kim

The Eyes are the Best Part book cover

Author Monika Kim

Thank you to Net Galley and Erewhon Books for allowing me the opportunity to preview Monika Kim’s exciting and disturbing thriller The Eyes are the Best Part. I was instantly drawn to the title and cover art for this book, and reading the description as feminist horror further piqued my interest. Although this isn’t necessarily the kind of traditional horror, it is a psychological horror story told through the experiences (or eyes) of Ji-won, a first year college student. Kim creates a relatable yet complex character through Ji-won. I found her to be someone with whom I could empathize and sympathize, as she goes through the trauma of her father abandoning the family while also experiencing micro-aggressions and stereotyping. As a first-generation Korean American college student, Ji-Won must not only navigate the challenges of adapting to college, but also in emotionally supporting her mother and sister through this difficult time. Ji-won experiences further challenges when her mother meets George, a middle-aged white man, who eventually reveals himself as someone who objectifies Asian women. Kim’s characterization of him was creative and detailed, as told through Ji-won’s observations about George’s choice of restaurants or his ogling of waitresses. To further emphasize his lack of cultural competency, George resorts to creating nicknames for Ji-won and Ji-hyun, Ji-won’s sister, since he cannot accurately pronounce their names. Beyond taking their mother away, George also introduces his blue eyes, which begin to haunt Ji-won and tear at her sense of reality. We experience Ji-won’s nightmares as they happen, unsure if she is dreaming or not. Kim’s descriptions are both unnerving and creative, and I found these parts disturbing, but in a meaningful way. George’s intrusion into the family and imposing his beliefs and ideals on the family has further disrupted Ji-won and Ji-hyun. While sharing a seafood meal with the family, Ji-won is reminded that her mother always said eating the eyes brings good luck—hence, the eyes are the best part. This eventually sends Ji-won on a quest for the blue eyes that haunt her in sleep and eventually in wakefulness. She grows her plans to take George’s eyes further and further, watching him as he sleeps and imagining how they might taste. As her fascination with eating blue eyes grows, Ji-won is also dealing with some friends from her classes and trying to obtain better grades to get off probation. The family stress greatly affected her during her first semester, and she struggled to successfully complete her first semester. We also learn that she lost some of her high school friends due to some self-sabotage. This part made me question Ji-won’s motivations, since she was angry or jealous of her friends for getting into Berkeley. It seemed like she resented them for their status and advantage, and she did things to sabotage them. This incident and the later meeting with these former friends during winter break provides us with a different side of Ji-won, one who seems slightly vindictive, but also someone who is somewhat powerless and seeks to go behind the backs of others to make herself feel better. I wasn’t sure if this part provided more motivation for Ji-won’s later actions, seeking out blue eyes, and that she is somewhat self-destructive. However, I also think it helped to emphasize the fact that Ji-won was someone who was also somewhat bound to expectations and stereotypes and that taking action secretively against her friends showed how she sought to empower herself, but that she couldn’t necessarily do it in the light. It was a little surprising, but it also added to Ji-won’s complexity. As Ji-won’s mother falls more in love with George and Ji-won deals with Geoffrey, a boy from class whose ingratiating personality wore thin and eventually becomes obsessed with Ji-won. It’s interesting that both white men in the novel have similar names and kind of represent opposite ends of the kinds of aggressions that Asian women face. However, Ji-won gradually abandons Geoffrey, tiring of his incessant messages and his micro-aggressions, like giving her chopsticks for a present. I found both Geoffrey and George to be really annoying but done so in an over-the-top manner that also kept me reading to see what Ji-won would eventually do to them. While she eventually gets revenge on Geoffrey, it’s the games that she begins to play on George that are vindictive and entertaining. Ji-won eventually begins to experiment with eye-eating, finding victims around the college. Kim’s descriptions of eating the eyeballs are some of the best writing in the book. Pretty graphic and gross, but also incredibly detailed and appealing to different senses (tasting like iron, popping, gelatinous). Ji-won’s eye eating also transforms her, and I found this part of the book to be somewhat like Crime and Punishment, where we experience the paranoia of someone who knows they did wrong, but still feels justified in their actions. Ji-won’s crimes gradually empower her and give her more confidence to take action against George, with the hope of driving him away from their mother. Kim’s writing is propulsive and the short chapters kept me reading to find out what would happen next. I also really loved the use of chopsticks to mark the chapter breaks. Very creative and unique. Although the book was exciting and disturbing, the ending happens a little suddenly and was a slight let-down. In some ways, this book reminded me of some other books about racial identity and transformations—both Natural Beauty by Ling Ling Huang and White Ivy by Susie Yang. Both characters in these books experienced a kind of lack of acceptance by the dominant culture and felt the need to change their identities, to become more white and change their ideals and values as well. They pay the costs, yet Ji-won is somewhat different. While it seems like family and racial trauma eventually pressure her into destructive behavior, she is able to plan out a way to escape and place blame on those who have wronged her. I think this also kind of positions Ji-won as a powerful character and an empowered character who is eventually able to use the stereotypes and expectations against those who try to pin her down. Although I couldn’t put this book down, I think that some people might struggle with the racism, objectification, and graphic violence in the book. It’s not gratuitous; Kim does show how the daily racism and aggressions can take their toll, but she also creates a character who seeks to subvert that trauma and pain and use it to right the wrongs she faced. Highly recommended and important book to read.

Feminine Revenge in Monika Kim's Molka

 Molka by Monika Kim

Molka book cover

Author Monika Kim

Big thanks to Kensington Publishing, Erewhon Books, and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Monika Kim’s wild and violent revenge novel Molka. I previously read The Eyes are the Best Part, and thoroughly enjoyed the unexpected violence and gore that Ji-won eventually revels in as a means of reclaiming her power from the racism and sexism she experiences, as this was a powerful feminist story that highlights the horrors that Asian American women experience. I enjoyed Molka even more, devouring the last half of the book in one day like Ji-won’s mom with fish eyes. I just couldn’t put this book down because of Kim’s propulsive narratives that tell the story of degenerate young men who delight in using molka, a Korean portmanteau of molrae-kamera, which translates to a sneaky camera. As Kim elucidates in the intro, she noted scandals of privileged Korean men whose use of molka were not really punished legally and experienced far less punishment than the women who were victimized by these men. She notes the double standard in that the women often experience shame, ostracization, and even worse outcomes while the men rarely see any kind of significant punishment for this kind of invasion of privacy and violation of consent. As a result, Kim’s book achieves the rare feat of being both a compelling horror-revenge thriller while also addressing social inequalities and raising consciousness about the kind of sexism and misogyny that women experience on a regular basis.

Kim’s novel takes place in Seoul, where the lives of Dahye and Junyoung intersect at their work in an office. Dahye is an office worker and recent college graduate who still harbors guilt for the drowning death of her sister years earlier. Nevertheless, she has recently met Hyukjoon, a rich playboy whose family owns a chaebol, or a family controlled company like Samsung. Although Dahye is from a modest background, she loves the attention and opportunities from Hyukjoon, visiting fancy restaurants, hotels, and shops with him. Junyoung is an IT worker in the same office as Dahye. Although Junyoung has established a reputation within the office for being a problem solver with technology problems, he also uses his technology skills for his own personal pleasure, installing molka in the women’s bathroom so that he can spy on the female employees, which is where he eventually discovers Dahye. Kim’s story intertwines these three narratives- Dahye, Hyukjoon, and Junyoung—as their experiences with molka all converge towards a wild, violent ending that I didn’t really see coming.

While there’s a lot to like about this book, Kim also creates some of the most despicable and unlikeable characters in Hyukjoon and Junyoung, among some other men. While both guys have a relationship with Dahye, one personal, the other professional, they both look to take advantage of her in different ways. Furthermore, we don’t really get into the mind of Hyukjoon but learn that his relationship with Dahye is not what it seems. After a night at an exclusive restaurant and hotel, Dahye awakens to the news that Hyukjoon has to leave for NY as he is implicated in a molka scandal. What Dahye eventually learns is that she was the other person involved in the scandal. Dahye gradually realizes that her situation with Hyukjoon was not what it seems, and he was using her. As she realizes the implications of her relationship with Hyukjoon, she begins to cut ties with her family and work and staying with her friend Bora. Prior to this incident, Dahye assented to a casual lunch with Junyoung, but when she misses work, Junyoung begins to wonder about her. Like the creepy stalker he is, Junyoung uses his IT access to look up Dahye’s address and find her while she is out. What ensues is a kind of series of pursuits where Dahye seeks out Hyukjoon to initially apologize for her role in the molka scandal while Junyoung follows Dahye around Seoul. Dahye eventually gains the support of her deceased sister, whose spirit serves as a kind of spiritual guide and protector for her. The narratives eventually converge on an explosive confrontation.

I loved this book, even though it has some pretty harsh scenes that were tough to read. Kim’s storytelling brings all the elements together and kept me turning pages to find out what would happen next. I found this especially true after the first half of the book, once we learn more about the true nature of Dahye’s relationship with Hyukjoon, and as Dahye’s sister, Euhhye, eventually reveals herself. I really liked the converging plotlines with Dahye and Junyoung, and Kim really makes Junyoung one of the most unlikeable characters since George and Geoffrey from The Eyes are the Best Part. Hyukjoon is also really unlikeable, but as a rich, entitled guy, that’s kind of expected. It’s not just Junyoung’s gross and invasive ways, but also his treatment of his mother and his lack of awareness of relationships that makes him so awful. Most of the men in this book are awful, though. Junyoung’s father, who left the family and excused Junyoung’s early peeping behavior, is someone who set Junyoung up with a poor role model for how men treat women. Similarly, the police are incapable of taking Dahye’s complaints seriously. Their own ineptitude in investigating Eunhye’s death also reveal the systemic inequalities in how women in Korea are treated. Maybe the only positive comes from Dahye and Eunhye’s father who tells them Korean folktales about trickster figures and animals that teach lessons. This was another aspect that I really enjoyed about the book. Kim incorporates Korean folktales in a symbolic way to emphasize not only the ways that people can outsmart those who are more powerful, but also to bring in the elements of ghost stories. These are some subtle yet powerful allusions in the book, and I really appreciated them.

I don’t want to give too much more of the story away because it’s an exciting and powerful story that not only kept me reading but also raises awareness about social and gender inequalities in Korean society. We see how men and especially powerful men are given more freedom and less accountability in the treatment of others, especially women. It’s not just entertaining as a horror-revenge thriller, but it also has an important message in raising awareness and recognizing the consequences of this kind of inequality. While I highly recommend this book, it also comes with trigger warnings since there are scenes of hidden cameras, invasions of privacy, sexual assault and violence, and suicide. Nevertheless, none of these are gratuitous and they all serve an important purpose in recognizing that women often face a much greater level of sexual harassment and violence in society, yet the perpetrators are not always punished. Kim’s writing makes a compelling case as an engaging story that also has an important message. Highly recommended!