Irish Legends for Kids

 Irish Legends for Kids: Heroes, Druids, Myths, Magic, & More from Ancient Ireland

Irish Legends for Kids book cover

Many thanks to History Brought Alive and Book Sirens for providing me with an advanced copy of Irish Legends for Kids: Heroes, Druids, Myths, Magic, & More from Ancient Ireland. I was very excited to see this book available for review since I’ve traveled to Ireland and have family there. I’m also interested in Irish mythology and culture, so I was curious to see what this book has to offer. The book has 21 short chapters that provide the background and meanings for various heroes and heroines from Irish mythology and legends, as well as examining some places like the Giant’s Causeway and Tir Na Nóg, the otherworld, and animals like the Glas Gaibhnenn, a sacred cow that provides abundance for the people of Ireland. The chapters are not incredibly detailed, which is probably good for younger readers. However, I felt like some of the chapters offered limited details to the stories, and others that focused on legends like the Banshee presented a story about a farmer named Eamon and his grandmother that I never heard of. When I tried to look up this story, I couldn’t find any information about it. The story presents a kind of sanitized, less terrifying version of the Banshee character, where the cry of the Banshee serves as a reminder to Eamon to value the time he spends with his grandmother before she dies. The events of the story are reinforced by the lessons presented at the end of the chapter. While I can see how this is a good way to introduce the concept of inevitability and acceptance of death, I’ve never heard of the Banshee legend framed in this way. Furthermore, Banshees tend to appear as a woman with long, streaming hair and is frequently a harbinger of death. In the stories that I’ve read, Banshees often force individuals to change their ways or try to escape death but inevitably succumb to the cry of the Banshee as a result of their moves to evade the inevitable. Again, maybe this kinder version was a way to make the legend less scary to younger readers, but I always thought that the ghostly image of the screaming Banshee was really intriguing. Other chapters like the one about the Druids really offered nothing meaningful, and I wondered why it was even included. The Druids were real people who lived in Ireland, England, and other areas prior to the Roman invasion. They were priests and intellectuals whose mounds and stone structures throughout Ireland and England have left nearly as many questions as answers as to who these people were and how they lived. The chapter tells about a chief druid named Cathbad yet it doesn’t really discuss much about the lives of druids, where they lived, or even what legacy they have left in Ireland. In addition, there is a chapter that discusses the possible Celtic influences on the Holy Grail story, but this also feels out of place since the connections are not well developed and seem superficial. There are many other possible influences on the Holy Grail story, and it seemed strange to focus on a Welsh legend with influences that also include Christianity.

This book has some good moments, but it is also somewhat formulaic. The chapters present the story, and then each story has a “lesson” to be learned from the events. I found that many of the lessons were similar and focused on generic ideas about bravery and courage, helping and sharing, and acceptance and love. Furthermore, these lessons didn’t include many specific details and seemed like they could refer to almost any story, myth or legend. At first, I thought that this would be a good resource for younger readers, but as I read through the 21 chapters, I found the lessons to be repetitive and banal. I wonder if using questions or prompts to encourage readers to think about what the stories mean to them might be a more engaging way to encourage critical thinking and analysis of these stories. For example, instead of presenting the meaning, the writers could ask something like “The legend of St. Patrick presents a story about hardships and challenges. What do you think St. Patrick learned from his experiences?” or “Deirdre of the Sorrows tells a story about love and loss. What lessons might Deirdre and Naoise have learned from their experiences? What kind of leader do you think King Conchobar was based on his behaviors?” I felt like I was reading the same message, and even disagreeing with some of the conclusions that the authors of this book reached about these stories that dealt with death, treachery, and betrayal.

Although there were some important stories and characters from Irish mythology, the overviews were often generic. Furthermore, the book did not always include pronunciations of characters’ names. Celtic Gaelic has a different pronunciation from English, and some of the names did not include pronunciations (Naoise, Lebeorcham, Glas Gaibhnenn, Tobar Segais, Sionann). I wasn’t sure why some of the names earlier in the book included pronunciations, which I found helpful, but names in the later chapters did not. There were some names that are still around today (Patrick, Brigid, Deirdre), but many of these names are not as common in English, so including a pronunciation key would have been helpful. In addition, I think this book could have been enhanced with images, especially for the legendary creatures like the Selkie, the Harp of Dagda, and Giant’s Causeway. Seeing the Giant’s Causeway would help to understand the unique shape of the rocks to better understand how much they are like stepping stones. Furthermore, presenting images of the Harp of Dagda, which as the authors note is the only musical instrument that serves as a country’s national symbol, would also help readers better understand the image’s significance and beauty. I also would have liked to see some comparative pictures of Samhain, the ancient Celtic festival that has evolved into Halloween. I also think that providing some images for readers to compare and contrast the similarities and differences would help readers better understand how Halloween has evolved from this Celtic tradition.

Overall, this was a book that has some interesting moments, but I kept wondering whether I would have been better off just reading Wikipedia. The writing is generic and bland, and while it may be suited to a younger audience, it still felt like it lacked any real connection with readers. The book was also incredibly repetitive, with each chapter forcing a kind of lesson learned, but often failing to include specific details or missing the mark on some important lessons. Many of the lessons were the same. Without any human author attributed to the book, I wondered whether this book was a produce of artificial intelligence. The repetitive structure and lack of specific details, as well as the kind of rote, banal tone of the book made me think that the references included at the end of the book were fed into an AI prompt and produced this output. While there are some overviews of Irish myths and legends, there are many other good resources available at libraries and online. 

Shuffling the Deck of Lotería, Stories by Cynthia Pelayo

Lotería: Stories by Cynthia Pelayo

Lotería book cover

Author Cynthia Pelayo

Many thanks to Union Square & Co. and NetGalley for the advanced copy of Cynthia Pelayo’s exciting and creepy collection of stories Lotería, featuring 54 stories all based on the Mexican game of chance. After reading a review about this book some time ago, I’ve been wanting to read it, and was very excited to find a digital copy available for preview. I also loved reading these stories, many of which are based on folklore, myths, and superstitions from different cultures and people of Latin American countries. I initially just assumed that it would be based on Mexican American culture, but I was really excited to find stories that took place in Puerto Rico, Peru, Columbia, Argentina, and Spain, among other countries. Furthermore, it was cool to encounter retellings or reimagined stories that featured familiar myths and folklore from Latin American culture like the Chupacabra and La Llorona. Pelayo’s inventive short stories present characters who find themselves in strange and sometimes unfortunate situations where they encounter these mythological figures in more modern settings. I enjoyed Pelayo’s ability to also incorporate modern situations and issues in some of the stories (“La Sirena” for example, a brief and terrifying story about human trafficking).

Each story is based on one of the Lotería cards and features an image from the card. Although the connections are often clear, some are not as clear initially, yet reading through the story and especially the final chapter helps to better understand the connection between the story and the image. My personal favorites in this collection were the stories that dealt with folklore and mythological figures. I was looking up some of the instances of Aztec language (Nahuatl) and culture, as the book has many references. There’s also a story about the pirates of Puerto Rico where the narrator has a spiritual encounter in El Moro, which I visited a little more than a year ago. I’ve been to that fort three times and was able to take my kids to visit this last time. It’s a fascinating place, and Pelayo’s story added another interesting way to interpret not only the history, but also the people who populated El Moro and Viejo San Juan. There were also some uncanny and eerie type stories featuring dolls, possessed children, and demons that randomly show up with strange messages. Additionally, a story about a bookseller who loses a cursed tome to a thief has a kind of karmic tone found in famous stories like “The Monkey’s Paw” and episodes of The Twilight Zone. Although not all the pieces are of the same quality, there are enough weird, creepy, and terrifying stories that kept me reading throughout the night. The collection reminded me a lot of King’s Night Shift, where characters often meet horror in unexpected and surprising places, and others are sometimes confronted with loss, pain, and sadness, sometimes as a result of their own actions. This is a great collection of stories, and I was so impressed with Pelayo’s ability to use the Lotería cards to craft these unique, creepy, and often terrifying stories. Even individual stories would work in an anthology or teaching literary and narrative devices in a thematic unit. I could see some of these stories as the kind that would capture the attention of reluctant readers and hidden horror fans. I highly recommend this collection, whether reading individual stories or checking out the entire collection. I’m also looking forward to reading more of Pelayo’s books. 

The Role of Manipulation in our Lives

 Manipulation: What It Is, Why It's Bad, What To Do About It by Cass R. Sunstein

Manipulation book cover

Author and scholar Cass R. Sunstein

Many thanks to Cambridge University Press and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of esteemed Harvard scholar and writer Cass R. Sunstein’s new and timely book Manipulation: What It Is, Why It’s Bad, What To Do About It. Sunstein, who has worked examined legal and behavioral issues in other books, examines all of the ways that we encounter manipulation in our daily lives. I found the book to be fascinating since manipulative means often attract our emotions, or our system 1 level of responding, which don’t allow much time for reflection or consideration about the implications or ramifications of any responses. According to Sunstein, this is the primary goal of manipulators and why manipulation is problematic in most cases. According to Sunstein, manipulation does not consider our agency or reflective ability. It merely assumes that we are likely to emotionally respond without any thought or consideration to consequences. Furthermore, many manipulators use deceitful or bad faith tactics that also trigger our System 1 responses, and don’t allow for much research or further learning about the topic. As a result, manipulators tend to have a dim view of those they seek to manipulate, assuming they will not seek out additional information or challenge their claims. Sunstein uses many examples in various fields including work, advertising, technology, and politics, among others. I found these examples to be revealing and compelling.

I appreciated Sunstein’s approach to this topic. It’s one that he’s spent time before working on, specifically with nudging and behavior, a topic he co-authored a book with Nobel winning economist Richard Thaler, and decision making and judgement, another topic he co-authored a book with another Nobel laureate, Daniel Kahneman. Sunstein brings a wealth of knowledge and experience with this topic, and aptly defines manipulation not only with examples and subtypes, but also by differentiating the topic from other forms of deceptive practice including lying and coercion. With coercion specifically, Sunstein argues that coercion is often thought of as more forceful than manipulation, but actually people have a choice with coercion. There is often a consequence to follow, and the severity of the consequence often informs people’s decisions to comply with the coercion. This is not the same case with manipulation, which seeks to appeal more to our emotions, or system 1 responses, rendering us unlikely to question or challenge the information. Thus, with manipulation, the approach is to remove choice and thinking, taking away our agency and dignity, and subjecting us to the desires of the manipulator. Nevertheless, Sunstein presents the challenges to regulating manipulation since it is a form of speech and outlawing it would, in turn, become not only difficult, but would also take away other freedoms of expression.

One of the points I found most fascinating was how often we encounter manipulation, but with a more positive, or as Sunstein mentions, a welfarist approach. Although Sunstein spends time exploring the ways that various approaches to manipulation occur and drain time and money from us, he also notes that frequently governments and public health campaigns apply manipulative methods to promote positive health or at least deter behaviors that are unhealthy. While advertising companies in the past have used manipulation to promote cigarettes and alcohol, often showing happy, healthy, and young people enjoying themselves, more recent attempts to deter smoking and excessive drinking have aimed to use manipulative practices to deter smoking. The examples of anti-smoking campaigns are particularly graphic but use manipulation for a good. Sunstein explains why these examples would make outlawing manipulation problematic.  The other interesting aspect of manipulation is the different types of manipulation, and how technology is factoring into making manipulation much easier today. One form of manipulation that Sunstein discusses is sludge, which is basically like onerous bureaucratic impediments that are a means to slow people down to limit them from accessing any resources. While reading this, I thought about the show Nathan For You, and one episode where Nathan develops a rebate plan to boost a gas station’s business. He makes the process of obtaining the rebate so difficult and time consuming that most of the applicants drop out. Nathan applies an approach that Sunstein explores as manipulative that many other businesses, organizations, and governments employ to deter access to resources and goods.  

 

Sunstein notes that FAFSA, the federal student aid program’s application was often viewed as a type of sludge, making it difficult for students to access aid, assuming that many would give up. Sunstein documents other examples of sludge in the world, and how it impacts our lives. Other examples are about ending free trials, and how challenging it can be to sometimes escape any kind of free trial without taking an incredible amount of time and effort. He cites examples of Serious XM radio, and how cancelling a subscription often involves talking to a live human, which can involve waiting for a lengthy time on the phone. I didn’t realize that the Biden administration actually enacted legislation to counter these kinds of practices, recognizing that sludge costs people time and money, and as a result, people need easier methods to cancel subscriptions and not be the targets of deceptive manipulation.

The most compelling cases, on the other hand, dealt with technology and how technology enables manipulators to employ new and more dangerous forms of manipulation. He cites examples of egregious  manipulation like the Trump campaign’s reelection scheme to opt donors into recurring payments, assuming that they would not read the fine print or check their accounts to see the money they lost. Maybe it’s not surprising, but it demonstrates how Sunstein’s idea that manipulators devalue their targets and don’t consider their agency and dignity. Sunstein also touches on deep fakes and how these forms of manipulated video (and audio) can be so compelling that they don’t allow us to access our System 2 processing, where we consider and reflect on the information we are taking in. This is especially important as younger children are encountering more and more video media, and are not always taught to question or consider what they encounter online. Furthermore, with the current administration employing these kinds of manipulative practices, it’s more important that people are made aware of them and develop tools and practices to counter and question the information that’s being spewed on a regular basis. Sunstein ends the book by examining AI, and noting how AI can be used for both manipulative practices, but also as a tool to learn more about options and choice engines. I’m glad to see that he doesn’t completely dismiss AI as manipulative, but recognizes that any kind of algorithm may have the potential to produce biased results that might target our system 1 responses. Nevertheless, he also notes that AI has the potential to quickly scan through information that would take most humans hours and hours, enabling them to save more time and focus to make better informed decisions, ultimately to prevent manipulation.

Although the book is important and fascinating, it is a little challenging to read, and I know that I will need to revisit the topics. Manipulation has ideas and examples that affect our lives in different respects from advertising and large purchases, to retirement planning and government policies. Although the book may not be for everyone, Sunstein present clear and relevant examples that highlight the various ways that manipulation is used to impact behavior. While not always bad, manipulation does entail practices that seek to bypass rational decision-making and have us react. Although this is sometimes necessary in promoting public health, we can also see how it is used for other ends. Thus, this is an important read with significant implications. This book has made me more conscious of the information and media I encounter, and how I can carefully consider it before responding or reacting. 

Such Great Heights: The Complete Cultural History of the Indie Rock Explosion by Chris DeVille

 Such Great Heights: The Complete Cultural History of the Indie Rock Explosion 

by Chris DeVille

Such Great Heights book cover

Author Chris DeVille

Big thanks to St. Martin’s Press and NetGalley for sending me Chris DeVille’s new, comprehensive history detailing indie rock’s influence and evolution over the past 25 years, Such Great Heights: The Complete Cultural History of the Indie Rock Explosion. While I enjoyed reading this book, I didn’t always agree with DeVille’s takes about indie rock, especially regarding how and what to include in the indie rock bins. Nevertheless, DeVille makes some good arguments about how indie rock was propelled forward by the evolving nature of the internet and social media, among other events, which continued to expand the types of music that was made, as well as how people listened to and interacted with music. If anything, I found that this book continued in the tradition of some other great books about musical genres that traced their evolution and development by examining the historical context as well as the audience growth and appeal. Such Great Heights reminded me of books like Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life, which examined the rise of college music or what others might classify as “alternative” music, and Stephen Blush’s American Hardcore, which traces the punk and specifically hardcore music that resulted through the networking of van touring, DIY shows, zines and tape trading. Similarly, Such Great Heights posits the role of technology, and specifically the development of web 2.0 and its interactivity with promoting more independent music, that is, music that wasn’t necessarily reliant on major label production and promotion. In addition, DeVille notes how mp3s, free and eventually those available for .99 cents, shifted the nature of the music business, since record labels no longer had to put up money for packaging and distribution. This enabled smaller, independent record labels like Merge Records to save money on costs and develop better revenue sharing with their bands. This also made independent labels more appealing to artists looking to maintain their artistic vision and integrity. Thus, like other shifts in musical genres, the indie movement benefited from this changes to the industry and technology. I appreciated that DeVille works to define indie music not necessarily by the style, but rather as “a vast network of bands, labels, concert venues, record stores, radio stations, and homemade zines, which largely existed apart from the major-label system…. It was less a genre than a culture: a loose coalition of outsiders, idealists, elitists, critics, creatives, college students, and so forth.” It’s sometimes hard to define a type of music that encompasses so many different styles, and is really more reflective of the other elements related to the music. As a result, DeVille’s book chronicles many of the bands and artists, but also spends a lot of time examining the blogs, magazines, journalists, and platforms that helped to propel indie music to such great heights.

Such Great Heights was a fun read for me because, to quote the frequently referenced James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem, I was there when many of the bands in the early chapters started. It was completely fun to remember about the hype that The Strokes received in that summer before September 11^th. Especially as a recent college graduate who struggled to find work and then struggled with working full-time, music from new bands like The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and The Rapture and established bands like Radiohead and The Dismemberment Plan really brought a lot of joy to my life at a particularly joyless time in America. I actually remember going to Spaceboy records in Philly right before Labor Day 2001 and picking up an EP by The Rapture (Out of the Races and Onto the Tracks) because I heard it on WPRB, and thought it was so fun and different sounding that a lot of the music available. I don’t think I had regular internet access at the time, so a lot of new music came from listening to college stations. I also remember seeing The Yeah Yeah Yeahs at the Unitarian Church in February of 2002, after they released debut EP, but before they signed to a major label, and just being blown away by the sounds the three band members could make. In particular, Karen O was just so much fun to watch perform. Strangely enough, my son has gotten into the song “Maps”, and sometimes we watch older performances from the band. Regardless, it was fun to reminisce with DeVille in these sections of the book, since I remember how exciting this time was in discovering these bands, even though some of them, like Interpol and Radiohead, were signed to major labels, and weren’t necessarily “indie”. However, for DeVille, the genre was more about the style and not necessarily their status and affiliation. Also, I loved revisiting Dismemberment Plan and reading more about them. I only discovered this band through friends and a roommate in college, and they became a favorite of mine, especially for running. I still love when any of the songs from The Dismemberment Plan is Scared comes on during a run. As DeVille notes, the band has a kind of danceable, kinetic quality that wasn’t always a part of rock music in the 90s. Plus, they referenced Young MC and Rob Bass in their music, which was both funny and fun.

The next few chapters were also pretty fun and relevant, taking me back to a time when I had more disposable income and time to spare, when I could easily spend a few hours at the record store or splurge to go see a show on a weeknight. Although I had been a fan of Modest Mouse since my cousin made a mix with some songs in 2000, it was fun to recall how ubiquitous “Float On” was in the spring of 2004, remembering too how that song was a part of so many car trips in the early aughts; or how much the Franz Ferdinand debut was played on my walks to work or taking the subway home from night classes around that time; or how I somehow stumbled on the DFA sampler on iTunes after hearing LCD Soundsystem on WPRB. DeVille not only provides a detailed history of these bands and how they came about, but he also channels it through his own experience as a college student, musician, and music lover, sharing the joy and excitement in discovering “an alluring secret world”. Again, I loved this, since the music from this time has that kind of personal connection. There was so much in the early chapters that took me back to hanging out with friends, listening to music, and spending nights trying to find these songs on different file sharing sites or in later times, blogs.

I found the middle and later chapters enlightening, but also not as relatable since I was kind of losing my edge around the early 2010s, settling down and starting a family, my time for musical exploration was becoming contracting and in some ways fossilizing. It was actually funny to read about Odd Future and Tyler the Creator in Chapter 10 “Late Registration” since I was teaching an intro college course that year, and was seeing so many donut OF shirts. I was shocked, but also intrigued by this band and in particular by Tyler. I remember, too, getting into debates with a friend about the band. After reflecting a little more on my initial, visceral response to the band and wondering why so many white college students were interested in the band, it reminded me a lot of NWA, and how their kind of street knowledge scared so much of white, middle class America. Tyler’s Goblin album was both challenging and exciting, and I could tell that he was not only a creative force, but also seemed to be going through a lot of the kinds of struggles with identity that most adolescents experience. As DeVille notes, the themes and topics from OF were relevant to many kids, and was possibly one of the elements that made them so appealing to a larger demographic. This chapter also touched on how hip-hop and indie music formed a kind of creative bridge, expanding genres and opportunities to create new and unique sounds that wouldn’t have really happened in a pre-Judgement Night world. I also enjoyed Chapter 9’s focus on Chillwave and other kinds of psych-indie music that was evolving from the economic malaise of the early 2010s. I’m not sure if I completely agree that this music evolved from a desire to revert back to happier, analog nostalgia, but it was interesting to learn more about this style of music and see how it has led to the development of a kind of new ambient lo-fi genre. In fact, I was actually surprised to read about how much the worlds of hip-hop and indie rock cross pollinated around this time. Again, being on the outer edges of this book’s time period, I wasn’t as invested in some of these scenes and genres, so I learned a lot and was surprised about a lot.

DeVille’s writing is exciting and easy to follow; as he relates his own experiences to the music and shares his own accounts of shows and discovering the music for the first time, readers can also share in this joy and excitement. It’s one of the pleasures of this fun book. I didn’t realize how much music blogs and myspace helped to propel the popularity of indie music (along with films like Garden State and shows like The O.C.). Although the book focuses on music that was independent of major labels’ influence, DeVille explores how major labels, corporations, and tech companies all recognized the consumer potential for indie rock, and eventually sought to take advantage of its popularity, and how other artists that are on major labels were able to leverage indie artists to expand their popularity and audiences. That was the only disappointment in the book—that there was a lot of focus on major label artists, and how the attention from Pitchfork, Vice and other publications and platforms eventually moved the needle from indie to major labels. I guess that this kind of shift is also part of the story of indie music, and it was interesting to see how progressive major label artists were, sometimes, using their fame and influence to leverage more independent artists and possibly challenge their own audiences with new sounds and voices. Nevertheless, it does also seem like there’s another cynical and economic aspect to it. One thing that I also wondered about with this book was the continued explosion of different genres that have been subsumed by indie rock. In particular, the section on Chillwave was kind of funny to read about all the different variants. This also seems more like a way that algorithms and dedicated niche groups are involved, and that platforms can find a way to market to smaller, dedicated groups that allow them to feel a stronger connection to these genres. That is, I wonder whether some of the explosion of different genres is not necessarily the work of artistic vision, but rather savvy and targeted marketing by social media and streaming platforms. Maybe I’m getting too cynical as I’m losing my edge. Nevertheless, that’s what is so much fun about DeVille’s book—revisiting some of the most exciting and inventive times in recent music history.  It’s a detailed trip down memory lane with some newer avenues to explore and learn about other bands and artists, at least for me. Highly recommended!

P.S. Glad to see Pavement and Sebadoh mentioned in the book, but sad that Archers of Loaf’s “Plumb Line” was not mentioned—one of the earlier and best mentions of Indie Rock.

Considering a Classic: Ready for My Close-Up: The Making of Sunset Boulevard and the Dark Side of the Hollywood Dream by David Lubin

 Ready for My Close-Up: The Making of Sunset Boulevard and the Dark Side of the Hollywood Dream by David Lubin

Ready for My Close-Up book cover

Author David M. Lubin

Major thanks to Grand Central Publishing and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of David Lubin’s excellent and engaging Ready for My Close-Up: The Making of Sunset Boulevard and the Dark Side of the Hollywood Dream. This was a great book that focuses primarily on the making and impact of Sunset Boulevard, a movie that just recently celebrated its 75^th anniversary, but continues to influence movies and popular culture in fascinating ways. I not only enjoyed reading about this book because of the cultural significance of this film, but I also only recently watched Sunset Boulevard for the first time and was amazed at how brisk and relevant the film is. I remember reading somewhere that David Lynch was influenced by Sunset Boulevard, and that attracted my attention. After watching, I can see how this film that challenges traditional narrative techniques and presents a view of the underside of what Lubin sometimes refers to as America’s Dream Factory influenced some of Lynch’s most iconic films. In particular, I was struck by the similarities between Sunset Boulevard and Mulholland Drive, Lynch’s 2001 film about the dark side of Hollywood (also named after a street in Los Angeles). David Lubin, who is a film scholar and professor, not only presents the germination of the film and contextualizes its creation within the history of Hollywood but also presents biographies and career histories for all of those involved Sunset Boulevard. His detailed research into the lives and backgrounds of the writers and stars of this film provided an important context for understanding how Sunset Boulevard performs not just as a noir film classic, but also as a kind of commentary on the Hollywood system and its fickle, ever-changing demands for stars that it sometimes views as disposable and interchangeable. I found the book to be particularly interesting in today’s media landscape with a continued focus on sequels and nostalgia-tinged remakes or updates. Also, there’s been more and more hagsploitation in films, presenting audiences with terror and fear of aging, specifically in older women, which Lubin explores as one of the themes and criticisms of Sunset Boulevard.

Lubin’s book is a page-turner, especially for someone interested in film history and criticism. He presents biographies of the actors involved in the film, and how the two screenwriters, Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett, developed a working relationship in Hollywood, despite coming from very different backgrounds. The ideas of stories and messages in films is also integral to Wilder and Brackett’s working relationship as this was something that they questioned was important to films. Nevertheless, Lubin highlights the work that these two collaborated on prior to Sunset Boulevard, which would be there last collaborative effort. Lubin also examines how these two arrived in Hollywood, with Wilder’s journey from Europe and jumping in a pool for money at a Hollywood party shedding some light on potential biographical influences on Sunset Boulevard. Lubin also shares the biography and career of Gloria Swanson, the silent star who was coaxed into inhabiting the role of Norma Desmond, and Erich von Stroheim, whose life and career I also found incredibly interesting. Von Stroheim played Max von Mayerling in the film, who is Norma Desmond’s driver and butler, but was previously an acclaimed director from the silent era, just like von Stroheim’s real-life background. According to Lubin’s research and writing, von Stroheim seemed like a real arrogant but intriguing character, known initially as “the man you love to hate”. I found the character of Max von Mayerling to be equally intriguing, someone who is both dedicated to Desmond, but also feeding her delusions by writing her fictitious fan mail. His character, along with many of the others in the film, have this kind of dual nature where the ambiguity of their motivations and behaviors can lead to vastly different interpretations of the film and its greater meanings.

Although Lubin’s research into the biographies and careers of those involved in the making of Sunset Boulevard are engaging and illuminating, I found his analysis of the film’s most important scenes to be the strength and heart of this book. After providing background about the film’s creation and the lead up to its production, Lubin then goes in to document and analyze the integral scenes, breaking them down by noting the significant details, staging, acting choices, and even the lines of dialogue from the film. This was exciting to see not only how nuanced the staging and direction of the film is, but also how timeless and relevant the film remains today. Furthermore, I loved how Lubin notes that the film’s ability to transcend genres, a fact that the studio considered as a hindrance to audiences, is actually one of the elements of the film that makes it timeless and so impactful. When I watched Sunset Boulevard, I considered it something like a film noire, which at the time was a relatively newer genre. However, Lubin notes that the film has elements of romance, tragedy, comedy, and even horror. While I found Norma Desmond’s life somewhat deranged and delusional, I didn’t necessarily consider it comedic. However, Lubin identifies some key scenes and how they contrast one another—for example, when Norma’s friends come over to play bridge, and how that party contrasts with Joe’s friend’s new years party. These contrasts not only highlight the youth and aging differences, but also emphasize the living and the dead, or the future and the past. I didn’t realize that the Norma’s friends included key actors from the silent screen, including Buster Keaton. Furthermore, I hadn’t considered the absurdity of Norma burying her chimpanzee to begin the film, and how Joe becomes something like a chimp- a replacement child-companion for a lonely, isolated woman. Some of the best analysis comes from Norma’s visit to the Paramount studios during Cecil B. DeMille’s filming. I was surprised to see that this was the real DeMille, but Lubin provides key details about Swanson and DeMille’s prior working relationship, and how DeMille’s lines and acting in the film present the audience with some ways to sympathize with Norma. This was my favorite part of the book since it provides readers/viewers with new ways to consider the meaning of the film and elements of individual scenes to consider. I also kept thinking about how these scenes influenced other films, as Lubin provides notes and interviews from Hitchcock and Goddard suggesting the lasting influence of Sunset Boulevard on later films. In particular, the tonal shifts and the ways that the story and shots affect the audience’s emotions were innovative for a film from the 1950s. We probably take this for granted today since we recognize that films can often transcend genres, but Sunset Boulevard challenged viewers at the time. Again, I kept thinking about David Lynch films, and how sometimes the ambiguity and tonal shifts allow for varied interpretations. While some people may seek an easy resolution where everything is explained, I love the ambiguity and openness to interpretation. Lubin’s book points out how innovative and challenging this was at the time, but also how this ambiguity in the film leads to the film’s staying power and frequent inclusion in the top 10 films of all time.

The later chapters detail the critical reactions to the film, as well as what happened to all of those involved in the film, mostly focusing on the actors, but also including Wilder and Brackett. Again, it was interesting to learn more about these individuals, especially Gloria Swanson and William Holden. After watching Sunset Boulevard, I read a little about Holden’s life and work. However, reading about Gloria Swanson was also fascinating, as it seemed like Sunset Boulevard provided her with new opportunities, but also seemed to kind of trap her in this ideal of Norma Desmond. Regardless, it seemed like she was careful in her later career decisions, sometimes appearing on talk shows and television, but not often in the movies. Lubin also discusses the directing careers of Wilder and DeMille, who were at opposite ends of their careers, and who also appeared at opposite ends of the political spectrum especially when the House un-American Committee was seeking out names for their political blacklists. Lubin also includes an Epilogue that explores some of the legacy of Sunset Boulevard, particularly focusing on the idea of fading glory and how no one can escape time, as well as how the film remains a great film about filmmaking. Again, this is one of the reasons why the film remains to powerful and relevant today. While reading, I couldn’t help but think about the current state of politics and the kind of delusions that people feed to others to get ahead. It was surprising, then, to learn the Sunset Boulevard is a favorite film of another politician that seems to live in a fantasy world fueled by their delusions. Although it’s a brief epilogue, it’s still amazing to consider the similarities between Norma, a woman who continues to pine for a past that no longer exists while others placate and feed her delusions, and current leadership who also wish for faded glory over living in the present. This was a great book about a great film. Not only does Lubin’s research provide important details about the creation of this film, but his analysis also provides important insights into understanding and interpreting Sunset Boulevard and other films that followed. Lubin’s book has made me want to re-watch Sunset Boulevard, and think about other films that follow in its legacy. Highly recommended! 

Examining Racism, Stereotypes, and the Damage of Sexual Objectification in Fetishized: A Reckoning With Yellow Fever, Feminism, and Beauty by Kaila Yu

 Fetishized: A Reckoning With Yellow Fever, Feminism, and Beauty by Kaila Yu

Fetishized book cover

Author Kaila Yu

Many thanks to Crown Publishing and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Kaila Yu’s bold and compelling memoir/essay collection that confronts racism, objectification, and representation titled Fetishized: A Reckoning With Yellow Fever, Feminism, and Beauty. I didn’t know who Kaila Yu was before reading this book, but it was interesting to read about her career transformation from an import and pin-up model to musician and lead singer for the band Nylon Pink to eventually a writer who is able to reflect and distil how social stereotypes like the model minority myth and the dragon lady shaped her own motivations and career choices with a critical eye. Although reading about the social issues Yu critically examines in this book is challenging, she presents them in a kind of autobiographical manner, connecting her own experiences to the larger issues and supporting her observations and conclusions with research and statistics to further bolster her points. This approach that bridges both memoir and critical essays makes the entry into discussing serious social problems and issues easier to approach as a reader. Furthermore, Yu’s style and descriptions are rooted in a kind of humor and relevance that also lessens the tension, but still makes readers appreciate and sympathize with the gravity and weight of these issues. I’ve read a few of these kinds of these books that could be both memoir and essay based, and I really appreciate them for teaching since they can make great texts to help students not only develop critical insights into social situations, but also to help them see how as a writer their own experiences can be an entry point for interrogation of issues and events in society. Yu’s book reminded me of Alice Bolin’s recent essay collection Culture Creep in that both writers begin with their own experiences as a framework for examining how women are represented and portrayed in popular culture, and what kind of influence women in popular culture like singers, actresses, reality television personalities and social media influencers have on shaping young women’s own ideas about themselves, their careers, and expectations for relationships. Furthermore, Yu’s examination of Asian stereotypes, representation, and treatment in society also reminded me Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings, Jane Wong’s Meet Me Tonight in Atlantic City, and Viet Thanh Nguyen’s A Man of Two Faces, books by Asian American writers and scholars who explore their experiences growing up, as well as the kind of art, literature, and film/television representations that shaped their own ideas and approaches to art and writing. Chapters in Yu’s book would pair well with other chapters from any of these memoirs to provide students with a multifaceted perspective of race and identity, and in particular how popular media and literature can shape ideas about racism and stereotypes.

Yu’s book is also interesting in that her experiences take the narrative further to show how these stereotypes and representation shaped her own behavior and choices. She frequently mentioned that her decision to become a pinup and import car model was an attempt to challenge the model minority myth, the belief that “Asians are quiet, intelligent, high achieving, and hardworking… to it Asians against other minorities”, which was interesting to consider. Yu further examines that Asian women are often left to fit into 2 categories—the model minority or the hypersexualized Asian woman, like a dragon lady, whose stereotype she traces to colonialism, imperialism, and war. The second essay, “Geisha”, examines the myth of the hypersexualized Asian woman with the book and film Memoirs of a Geisha, which was published in the late 90s, and turned into a film in the early 2000s. Yu examines how Arthur Golden, the American male writer, perpetuated stereotypes about Asian women and sexuality with this book, and how audiences failed to note many of the disturbing elements of the story, but rather recognized the kind of abuse and violence in the book as a love story. Yu examines how her own experiences with older men, and in particular in how a specific girlfriend would pressure Yu into pursuing hooking up with older men. She also notes that “The book affirmed that pursuing glamor was not just worthwhile, it was required…”, which is also a recurring theme throughout Yu’s book. The idea that Asian women needed to fit into these stereotypes and act and look certain ways to make them worthy to the male gaze nudged Yu into pursuing a career in modeling and altering her look to fit into these stereotypes. I appreciated her candidness in examining these ideas and seeing how her own desire for attention from men was shaped by these earlier representations. Yu also critiqued The Joy Luck Club, noting that it was one of the first novels about Asian American experience to be taught in schools, but also that was made into a popular film. Unlike Memoirs of a Geisha, The Joy Luck Club was written by an Asian American woman (Amy Tan), yet Yu also noted some of the inconsistencies and problems with the way the mothers in the film are portrayed, and how their lives as immigrants are greatly simplified, probably to appeal more to white audiences. The film and the representation of Asian immigrant women allowed Yu to examine her own mother’s experiences to challenge the ways that these women were represented in the film.

One of the most important, but also upsetting chapters in the book (“Bad Asian”) detail Yu’s sexual assault during a modeling audition, and help to highlight the ways that pornography often appeals to racial stereotypes and exploits power inequalities. Yu was just starting her modeling career, and applied to various auditions, not really thinking about the potential for assault and exploitation. This essay, and some of the others in the book, examine the ways that pornography particularly fetishizes Asian women and feeds into stereotypes while also dehumanizing them, reducing their individuality. Yu also explores how the history of colonialism, imperialism, and war have furthered these representations of Asian women. What was even more disturbing was the comments from male fans that were often sexually violent, but also tied into the kinds of violent pornography that often exploit Asian women.

The later part of the book explores Yu’s pivot from modeling into music, first as a solo act, then as part of the group Nylon Pink. I enjoyed reading these chapters, even though I was not familiar with Nylon Pink, which was one of the first all Asian female bands. It was cool to learn about how she connected with bassist Katt Lee to make music, and how the band eventually came together to include other Asian female musicians. One thing that resonated with me about the band was how Yu explains the issues of representation for Asian females in music. Although hopefully that kind of representation might be changing with women like Karen O, Michelle Zauner, Mitski, the music scene was different in the early and mid-2000s. Yu explained that to gain traction and be taken more seriously, the band needed to lean into more of the Asian female stereotypes, while noting that other white artists simply could be themselves. Yu also noted that Black female singers often didn’t have this kind of issue either, where singers like Eryka Badu could develop their own unique personas and not have to play into stereotypes. I found it interesting too that Yu critiqued Gwen Stefani’s appropriation of Japanese culture with the Harajuku Girls, a kind of backup dancer troupe that remained silent and were kind of like props, furthering stereotypes about Asian women. Despite developing the band and gaining some traction, Yu explores how the members often were fetishized, and how Yu herself pushed some bandmembers into these fetishized stereotypes to further the band’s popularity. This was also one of the most revealing elements of the book, how Yu acknowledges her own pursuit of these kinds of stereotypes and fetishization as a means to benefit and further her career, but also how it eventually brought her anxiety and anguish. It also seemed to have brought about the end of the band, noting how she was no longer into performing with the group. There’s a lot more to the story of the band, and I recommend this for anyone who’s interesting in books about the music industry and bands, as Yu and her bandmates experiences with fetishization and racism add a sad but important twist to these kinds of behind the music stories.

One of the last chapters of the book, “A Reckoning”, also stood out as a kind of turning point for Yu, where she discusses the Georgia spa shooting that occurred in 2021, where eight people, six of whom where Asian women, were murdered by a white man who appeared to have a fetish for Asian women and seemed to blame them for his own personal problems. Yu situates this event in the pandemic, where violence against Asian Americans, especially Asian women, became more commonplace, but also notes other instances of violence by white men against Asian women that predated the pandemic, emphasizing that this violence is more common than the media would report. It also relates to the idea of fetishization and how it dehumanizes Asian women, reducing them to parts and objects rather than recognizing their individuality and their humanity. It also seemed to be a turning point for Yu’s writing, as she began to write more about fetishization and the violence that was often paired with it.  It is a powerful ending to a compelling book that interrogates representation for Asian women, as well as examining how history, colonialism, war, and imperialism have all contributed to the fetishization of Asian women. As Yu notes, it’s challenging to determine the differences between fetishes and preferences that men may have, but she rightly acknowledges the complications and violence that often results from fetishization, not only how it has impacted her own life and career, and how it has impacted others close to her, but also how it impacts other Asian American women. There is so much to review with this book, I feel like I’m not completely covering everything that Yu addresses. However, Fetishized is the kind of book that is necessary to revisit and think about the different topics and issues she explores. Yu’s book is an important and compelling read, and I could see any of these chapters working well in a first-year writing class to explore important issues of race, identity, culture, identity, and sexuality, as well as how important representation is for students. Many of the chapters would pair well with other recent books that are both memoirs and examine social issues. Highly recommended!

 

 

Navigating Grief, Racism, and Identity in Catherine Dang's What Hunger

What Hunger by Catherine Dang 

What Hunger's book cover

Author Catherine Dang

Many thanks to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Catherine Dang’s new coming of age novel What Hunger. I was initially attracted to the cover of the novel, featuring a close-up of a bleeding raspberry being squeezed by fingers. While there isn’t much fruit in the book, the image does reflect Ronny Nguyen’s (the protagonists) sudden craving for meat after experiencing an assault and other trauma. I was also interested in the description of the book that deals with an adolescent girl’s challenges navigating her identity as a first-generation Vietnamese high school student. What Hunger is both shocking and entertaining, showing how Ronny tries to overcome not only her own personal trauma and the racism she experiences, but also the generational trauma and distrust that her immigrant parents have in midwestern America after they fled Vietnam following the fall of Saigon. Ronny’s observations and interactions with her parents demonstrate that while they are protective and considerate of their children, they also may be somewhat distrustful and sheltered, limiting Ronny and her brother Tommy from finding their own identities and assimilating into American culture.

Dang’s novel reminded me of some other novels about first-generation adolescents battling against racism and parental expectations as they struggle to develop their own unique identities in America. It’s interesting, too, that many of these novels, like Monika Kim’s The Eyes are the Best Part, Suzy Yang’s White Ivy, and Kylie Lee Baker’s Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng present racism as horror, yet also allow their protagonists to become empowered and reclaim their identities with force in standing up to racism and cultural stereotypes. Dang’s novel follows these themes as Ronny’s summer takes a sudden, traumatic turn before it ends and she begins her first year of high school. I won’t reveal the exact details, but this event coupled with her parents’ laconic responses put her in an uncertain position of how to navigate the grief while also beginning a new chapter in her life, education, and search for an identity in high school. Ronny’s aunt, her father’s sister, comes to visit the family from California, and enables Ronny to not only learn more about both her mother and father and what their lives were like in Vietnam before they immigrated, but also to provide Ronny with advice and life lessons that her parents never seem to impart to Ronny. In fact, Cô Mỹ, Ronny’s aunt, is an interesting counterpoint to her parents, who seem to have been beaten down both by their experiences as Vietnamese refugees and by the racism in America. Having limited visits with Cô Mỹ, Ronny’s not sure exactly how to take her aunt, but as Cô Mỹ eventually brings out a different personality from her father, Ronny begins to realize how multifaceted and dynamic her parents actually are. It’s something that all readers can relate to, especially those in adolescence who begin to notice and understand the kinds of sacrifices and changes that their parents experience. However, with Ronny Nguyen, her parents’ experiences as immigrants and refugees heighten the kinds of sacrifices and changes they’ve experienced as they attempt to assimilate into American society.

In addition to tackling themes of identity development and racism, the book also draws heavily on Vietnamese culture, especially food. I loved that Dang incorporates Vietnamese language in the book, and how the characters bond over traditional Vietnamese dishes. In particular, it was interesting to see how Ronny doesn’t really like many of the dishes that other relatives and friends share. It isn’t until Ronny experiences a traumatic assault that her tastes begin to change. I found this to be an interesting aspect of the book. Although the assault is horrible, and I want to warn readers about it, Ronny is able to fight back and develop her identity as a result of this event. Furthermore, her tastes for meat develop and readers can see how food and culture can have healing, nourishing, and restorative properties. Although Ronny seeks out meat to satiate her lust for blood and vengeance, it also speaks to her Americanization and her initial distaste for some Vietnamese dishes.

After her assault in the first few days of school, Ronny tries to assimilate into the cliques and groups of 9^th grade. I found these sections describing her attempts to join in and make friends to be the most relatable in the book. Ronny not only wants to belong, but also has to deal with rumors and gossip, and in some ways, she leans into the rumors being spread about her, which I found to be empowering for a character like Ronny. Although the 1^st person narrative allows us to hear some of Ronny’s conflicted emotions and thoughts, readers can also see a determined character who is not going to be bullied or allow others to define her. This was really interesting to see how her identity was shaped by these experiences. In addition to the high school scenes, Ronny also has strange neighbors who keep to themselves but also set squirrel traps on their property. Ronny and Tommy stumble across a trapped squirrel that has bloodied its mouth attempting to bite through the trap’s wires. As Tommy explains, these animals don’t want to be trapped and will become aggressive after they are trapped, doing almost anything to break free. Although it’s a little strange, the squirrels provide a clear symbol about attempts to trap perceptions of others and how fighting back against those with power can come with a cost. While Gigi, Ronny and Tommy’s neighbor, seems indifferent to the squirrels’ suffering and pain for being themselves, Ronny and Tommy both recognize how unfair and unnecessary it is to trap these animals.

What Hunger has some plot twists and turns, and although some parts may seem a little unbelievable, the message and themes of identity and navigating grief and trauma are important for readers to read and understand. Although the novel is challenging and upsetting at times, readers do experience a resilient main character who overcomes obstacles while also coming to understand both of her parents and their experiences as immigrants and refugees who remain guarded and reserved about their pasts and protective of their children’s futures. I recommend this book, although be warned about the incidents of loss, grief, and assaults.