Speculative Fiction

Book Nook: July 2023

Summer reading sounds like the dream, but it’s also hard to squeeze in some pages with all the time spent outside and huffing bbq fumes. Still managed to get some quality reads in though!


Making Comics by Lynda Barry ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I was a bit confused by this book at first. I picked it up and flipped through the first few pages at Drawn & Quarterly and was intrigued by the philosophy behind drawing that Barry took and the academic exploration of the question “How old does someone have to be to make a bad drawing?”. The layout of it looked as if a medieval manuscript was rendered by 14-year-old in 2003 and I knew I needed to know more about this conversation between high and low art. I ordered it at the library to read completely - but was confused when suddenly the academic fix turned into…a class syllabus? I kept going though, and I’m glad I did because it turned into an illustrated class outline with a whole lot of ideas for daily visual journalling, character exercises, and graphic story development. You can use it chronologically as a self-study lecture or you can flip through at random and use it to spice up your personal art practice. I ended up loving it so much that I struggled to give it back to the library in time. I wished I’d had longer so I could try out the exercises she described, but maybe I’ll just have to buy my own copy!


We Measure the Earth with Our Bodies by Tsering Yangzom Lama ⭐⭐⭐

China annexes Tibet and a family is exiled from their homeland along with their community; generation after generation is grafted onto lands that are not their own, each searching for peace and justice while most only find hardship. Though fiction, Lama’s prose was eloquent and full of pain, describing deep truths in the trauma experienced by Tibetans. There were so many moving parts to this story, and for the most part they came together well, expressing the anger, confusion, and disconnect from a culture others have tried to erase. My main struggle was that it felt unfocused. Perhaps this mirrors the uprootedness experienced by Tibetans, but it also made the narrative lag and stall while skipping over sections I wished had been explored more deeply. It had all the ingredients that I normally enjoy - international perspectives, insight into different cultures, politics, history, art, philosophizing about identity - but it didn’t coalesce for me. It focused on a very specific event, and yet from that event came a prism of light casting many narrative paths that were all half-followed, none satisfyingly explored. Compared to The Vanishing Half, which brought together many themes under the umbrella of its main premise, I guess I was expecting more. Ultimately, I wanted to like this more than I did.


Joyful by Ingrid Fetell Lee ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Designer Ingrid Fetell Lee explores the elements that bring us joy and the myriad ways we can include them in our life. I was worried this would be a self-help style book full of platitudes, but it came to me highly recommended. Not only that, her TED Talk on the subject is one of the more memorable ones I’ve seen so I figured I’d give it a shot. Though it did have some moments of “just add bubbles to your life and you’ll feel better”, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Lee did her research and brought in ideas from anthropology, evolution, neuroscience, international histories, and art along with her personal anecdotes to lend her findings credibility. It’s no dissertation, but it certainly gave a lot of fascinating food for thought and has had me being more mindful about the little things. I appreciated her approach not only to multidisciplinary explorations of joy - I particularly enjoyed the architecture section - but also how multicultural her examples were. Given that a lot of the examples came from people in places of privilege, however, I would have liked a little more of an address to the ways such examples of joy could be accessed among varying economic situations. Perhaps this is a bit nitpicky and cynical of me though. Let me go dedicate a drawer to confetti.


Ducks by Kate Beaton ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Spanning her two years spent in Alberta’s oil sands, famous cartoonist Kate Beaton illustrates her experiences with misogyny, isolation, and environmental destruction in her personal quest to pay off crippling student loans. Hark! A Vagrant was one of the first webcomics that I followed, and I was excited to read a full-length graphic novel by Beaton, but oh boy was I not prepared for this emotional rollercoaster (or perhaps “plunge” is a better word since a rollercoaster implies it goes up at points). Not that I expected a book about the oil sands to be a cheerful read, but Beaton doesn’t shy away from communicating some pretty devastating content. Reading it feels like a constant process of being tempered into hard iron, as she must have been while living the experiences. I absolutely loved the vignette-style peeks into different moments. There’s definitely continuity, but the breaks between moments feel like flashes into memory and contribute to the slow grind of the passage of time. The illustrations were simple but the visual narrative of it was persistently compelling. I found myself thinking about it every moment between reads and for long after finishing it. Highly, highly recommend.

Here’s a great interview with the author if you’re interested.

Trigger Warnings: Sexual assault.


Creativity Inc. (The Expanded Edition) by Ed Catmull and Amy Wallace ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Between the fact that this book is by one of the founders of Pixar and the tagline is “Overcoming the Unseen Forces That Stand in the Way of True Inspiration”, I was expecting it to be about the creation process and how artists and writers develop their stories - which it both was and wasn’t. Ed Catmull claims that this isn’t his memoir or even a history of the company, but it functions as both through the lens of a management how-to guide. At first I was a little surprised, maybe even a bit disappointed, but as it progressed, I was fascinated at the perspective it offered at the intersection of technology, creativity, and the evolution of a business from an unsuccessful start-up haemorrhaging money to a company that became such a storytelling powerhouse that it managed to take a flailing Disney Animations Studio under its wing and set it on the right course. I doubt that everything in this book transpired with as much grace and emotional intelligence as Catmull presents, but if every manager organized their business in the way that Catmull suggests, then the world would feel a lot less like an evil corporation and there would be a lot more happy employees. That said, I do wish he’d acknowledged the place of privilege he and Pixar were coming from - even in the early days - and how that affected the organizational liberties that could be put into place. Maybe it doesn’t matter that much since the advice he gives is a broad-strokes approach and therefore much of it can be adapted. I enjoyed reading it in any case, not least of all because I learned so much about the behind-the-scenes on so many of the classic films of my childhood. Beyond that, I’m curious about using some of the perspectives in my own practice - if only to manage myself and my own creation process.


Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer ⭐⭐⭐⭐

A biologist volunteers for an expedition into the mysterious “Area X” and encounters a sequence of events that has her reevaluate not just the nature of reality, but the reality of nature itself. This is 10000% my kind of science fiction and I loved everything about it from the tone to the point of view to the striking language used to describe an even more striking landscape. I haven’t seen the movie, though from what I understand there are barely any narrative similarities and that makes a lot of sense for something with such a slow burn. The most compelling thing about this novel is in the narrator’s voice: how she observes, the way she assesses her experiences, and the growing distrust in her own perception. It’s the kind of story that can only be told through the medium of literature and I very much appreciated the marriage between form and function. If you like biology, Lovecraftian horror, and POV novels, get on this right now. I can’t wait to dive into the rest of the trilogy.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, body horror, death, allusions to suicide, murder.


And that’s a wrap on July! Thought these reviews were on point? Don’t agree with something I said? Let me know in the comments below! I am but a humble reader whose opinions can’t possibly represent the myriad complexities of these books and would to hear your own thoughts.

Happy reading!

Tags: Fiction, Non-Fiction, Book Reviews, Audiobooks, BIPOC Authors, LGBTQ+, Horror, Sci-Fi, Speculative Fiction, Social Sciences

Book Nook: May 2023

I loved all the books I read this month, which was a breath of fresh air after the very hit-or-miss list from April. Behold this list of glorious writing!


The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

In the 60’s, a pair of twins from an impoverished black, Louisianan town is split in two as one vanishes to pursue life as a white woman and the other, grappling with the grief and anger of this loss, leans into her blackness. There was so much complexity in this book and I’m so impressed by how well Bennett navigated the themes of duality and discrimination, of the blessing and curse of looking white, of the tragedy of a society where coming from a black family is a shame to be concealed. Every character was so very flawed and alive. I also loved the inclusion of a trans character whose own struggles, though not front and centre, complemented the story in such a natural way. This was the case for a lot of the book: the gravitational centre was clear, but it pulled in so many other aspects of the human condition that it ended up being about far more than just the experience of being black in America. I can’t say it was a fast-paced narrative, and yet it was deeply satisfying seeing it evolve as secrets were kept, learned, and revealed in equal measures. The prose was excellent: clear yet lyrical in its expression. It isn’t a happy book per se, but there was a sense of healing in it.


The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Told from the first person POV of Patroclus, this novel tells the story of Achilles from childhood until death. I’ve been wanting to read this since I came across Miller’s Circe last year, and while I think I still like that one more, I really loved this book. Miller has such a distinct way of writing both frankly and poetically that makes you feel every word on the page (though I did listen to this as an audiobook and the narrator did a great job bringing the voice to life). I find it fascinating how she’s able to use the blueprint of a myth and create a fully-rendered story that has internal logic enough to make it feel believable while still maintaining the magic of the world. My one beef is that some of the big assumptions about Achilles weren’t included, and while she explains in interviews the reasons for this, there was enough allusion to them throughout the book that their explicit absence made some things fall flat to me - including parts of the ending. Other readers have critiqued it for not following the myths very closely, so I was surprised at the commitment to avoid the more commonly known (if incorrect) narrative pulses. That said, I loved how the narrative captured the looming dread of prophecy and its ensuing tragedy so well. A very good read.


The Encyclopedia of Early Earth by Isabel Greenberg ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Folded together like 1001 Nights, this graphic novel nests story within story, starting with a man of the North Pole meeting the love of his life, a woman of the South Pole. The book recounts his experiences on the voyage that unites them and weaves together many different mythologies from different peoples and cultures along the way. I really loved the illustrations and the quirky, unpretentious humour that kept the narrative down to earth. The way the myths were handled also managed to maintain the surrealism of their base stories while making them feel very modern, particularly in the casual tone of the dialogue. That said, the main character is a man at least stylistically and culturally based off the Inuit and I couldn’t help but feel a little weird about the use of these aesthetics in service of a story clearly not written by a member of that heritage. I don’t know if the stories themselves were based off Intuit mythology, but even so I couldn’t quite love this book with my whole heart for that reason. Artistically though, I really enjoyed taking the plunge into this very unique world.


Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century by Kim Fu ⭐⭐⭐⭐

In her collection of short stories, Fu splashes her pages with science fiction, imaginative realism, philosophy, and surrealism to explore the various vices and struggles of our time. I found the narrative quality varied between the stories, some feeling very well polished while others felt like they lacked the punchline of some of the stronger pieces. That said, each story was so unique that I couldn’t help but be drawn in. Among the standout works were "Pre-Simulation Consultation XF007867" about a woman requesting a holodeck-style experience with her deceased mother, “June Bugs” about a woman caught in a domestic abuse relationship who moves to a house infested with an absurdly growing number of insects, and “Twenty Hours” about a husband and wife who take turns murdering each other and then regrowing their partner as acts of love. A great book to pick up if you want some bite-sized thoughts to chew on.


Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

In this novel, two childhood friends reconnect at Harvard and decide to make a video game over the summer that will change their lives forever. In a month of excellent reads, this still managed to stand out and is one of my favourite books not just of this month or this year, but possibly of all time. The characters and the emotional arcs were enthralling to the point that until I finished, I felt like I was living in the world of the book. I loved how real everything felt, a feat likely achieved by the incredible balancing act of making the characters flawed enough to be infuriating while being highly relatable. I’m always a fan of an unconventional structure, especially when one is pulled off as well as this, and in this case I loved the weaving of narrative with flashbacks, interviews, and a singular POV shift that really punched above its weight class in an already heavy-hitting book. All the while, the commentaries about ambition, creative expression, heritage, cultural appropriation, success, failure, grief, loss, death, and, above all, the unique love found in true friendship, textured the book into a true standout of the literary world. The buzz around this book is well deserved. On a personal note, I had also just visited the Harvard glass flowers exhibit that came up in the book, so it felt very timely too.


And that’s a wrap on May! Thought these reviews were on point? Don’t agree with something I said? Let me know in the comments below! I am but a humble reader whose opinions can’t possibly represent the myriad complexities of these books and would to hear your own thoughts.

Happy reading!

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Book Nook: April 2023

Whoof. This was not the best month of reads, I’m going to be honest. It picked up near the end, but be prepared for some lightly scathing reviews at the beginning. Sorry in advance if you love any of the books I pan!


Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel ⭐⭐

This book made the rounds in my social media circle and both the cover and back blurb drew me in. Speculative detective fiction spanning from the 1800s to many centuries in the future textured by music, a pandemic, and West Coast Canada? Absolutely. Sadly, what it ended up being was a Cloud Atlas wannabe that fell short in everything from plot to prose. My main beef with the book was it should have been marketed as part of a trilogy because it follows in the footsteps of The Glass Hotel so closely that it’s incomplete without understanding some of the characters from the previous book (Station Eleven would be the first in this spiritual trilogy, though you can probably get by without reading that one). I kept waiting for certain things to be explained, but they were left hanging. The new characters were very underdeveloped (unsurprising given how many there were and the length of the book), and most were characterized with “quirky” qualities that were supposed to pass for personalities when they weren’t simply author inserts. The one thing the book had going for it was its world building, but, like Station Eleven, it ultimately felt like an unfurled bloom. It’s for these buds of potential and the strong opening chapter that I’m giving it two stars because there were some undeniably cool concepts - I just wish they’d been fleshed out to completion.


The Glass Hotel by Emily St. John Mandel

After Sea of Tranquility, I turned to The Glass Hotel to get some answers. I fully regret doing so. Everything I disliked about Station Eleven and Sea of Tranquility was distilled into The Glass Hotel. The characters were wooden, the pacing was all over the place, and lord help me if I every hear the words “Ponzi scheme” again. This story brought nothing new to the world of literature - in fact, it fell into so many tropes I wondered if Mandel had done any research or whether she’d just defaulted to movie clichés. Right up until the end, I was really holding out the hope that this book would come around and would make me like both it and Sea of Tranquility more, but it only resulted in my resolve to never read her writing again.


The Body is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love by Sonya Renee Taylor ⭐⭐⭐

This book was on the same list of recommendations as How to be an Anti-Racist by Ibram X. Kendi so I thought it would fall into the realm of Critical Race Theory and was interested in hearing a sociological perspective on the body positivity movement. I don’t know why I didn’t clock that it was a self-help book, but that’s my bad because the title says it all and delivers exactly what it promises. As soon as Taylor started talking about “reaching your higher purpose”, I knew it wasn’t for me, but in fairness to the genre, I think she does a great job zooming in and out of the microcosm of her life experiences and the macrocosm of the black body in society. That said, I would have liked a little more research, which would have lent more weight to some of her arguments. Despite that, I can picture her being a great lecturer and honestly the more voices out there boosting love for bodies of all shapes, sizes, and colours, the better.


Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space by Amanda Leduc ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Wanting more from The Body is Not an Apology, I finally got around to reading Leduc’s Disfigured. Again, the title says it all, and the contents deliver. This was by far my favourite book this month and it’s one that has reshaped how I think about disability. Discussions about ableism get less visibility than discussions about other forms of discrimination, and therefore it’s harder to challenge the prejudices and biases we all have towards them. And believe me, no matter who you are, you will discover that you have biases you didn’t even realize. I loved that Leduc covered not just your classic Grimm’s stories, but also the modern fairy tale as represented by Disney. She did some excellent research about how these narratives shape our understanding of what’s a good body, what’s a bad body, and the fallacy of trying to moralize either of them. Though she was upfront at the beginning about being a white disabled person and therefore not feeling qualified to explore fairy tales from other regions of the world, I would have still liked more reference throughout to the differing experiences of disability across race and gender. Still, she’s honest about not being an expert in this realm of discourse, so I feel like that’s splitting hairs. It’s a wonderful book and I highly recommend it for the How-to-be-a-Better-Human shelf.


The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix ⭐⭐⭐

Jumping back into fiction, this novel follows a housewife in the smalltown South during the 90s who aims to rally her book club against a monster posing as her neighbour. I thought it was going to be more whimsical and funny, but it ended up being a cross between Stranger Things, True Blood, and the gaslighting social horror of Rosemary’s Baby. I read Hendrix’s Horrorstör last year and it toed a similar line of “Is this supposed to be funny satire or dark satire?”, and the answer, similarly, was “Yes”. My main critique is that the pacing is really slow for the fist 2/3 of the book and felt like it went in circles for a while. That said, the last third ended up having some really white-knuckled tension that made it excruciating to put down. Following the same trajectory, the characters started out a little annoying - especially the protagonist, whose submissiveness really ground my gears - but the payoff was worth it. Maybe my biggest surprise was that Hendrix actually managed to pull off novelty in the vampire genre. This isn’t your sexy vampire; this is pure monster and it serves as a great allegory for the ugly parts of humanity. As such, be prepared for some pretty monstrous stuff to happen. A great Spooktober read.

Trigger warnings: Child abuse, child death, domestic abuse, suicide, sexual assault, racism, violence against the black community, body horror.


And that’s a wrap on April! Thought these reviews were on point? Don’t agree with something I said? Let me know in the comments below! I am but a humble reader whose opinions can’t possibly represent the myriad complexities of these books and would to hear your own thoughts.

Happy reading!