Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (5/13/25) – The Knockout

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I always feel bad whenever I come back after period of hibernation only to come back with a negative review. I just have to get it all out sometimes! I’ll probably have something nice to say by next week.

Say it with me, kids: just because a book has diverse representation doesn’t erase the flaws in its writing! Sadly, The Knockout was not the one-two punch that the title promised: it tried to hard to sound hip and teenager-y, and nosedived spectacularly.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Knockout – S.A. Patel

Kareena Thakkar knows her power. She’s been building up her skills in Muay Thai, and she’s good enough to qualify for the US Muay Thai Open—an event that could take her to the Olympics if she wins. But even though it’s where her passion lies, Kareena is divided between her Muay Thai world, her peers’ desires for her to be traditionally feminine and act the way a good Indian girl should. With her ill father and the Olympics on the line—as well as a cute boy, Kareena must decide which world she’d rather stay in—or if she needs to divide those worlds after all.

TW/CW: bullying, terminal illness, misogyny, medical content

Look. I read YA frequently, knowing that it’s a market of books about teenagers mostly written by adults. Even by that standard, I haven’t read a book so deeply how do you do, fellow kids? as The Knockout in some time. I wanted to badly to root for Kareena, but her insufferable voice—and by extension, Patel’s writing—made it a real ordeal.

Kareena’s voice was the most glaring issue that The Knockout had. Firstly, she didn’t sound or act like a 17-year-old. If anything, between her language and her maturity, she sounded closer to 13 or 14. The kind of stiff, teen movie comebacks she doled out to her bullies were nowhere near the kind of experience a person would have at 17—especially someone who had been through as many struggles as her. In my experience, what you need to do when writing teenagers (or any character who’s younger than you) is to emphasize how you (or your peers) remember feeling—what you’d prioritize, what was important to you, how you would react to situations, etc. Writing like a teenager is about the emotion, because there are a lot of them running around your brain at that age. Sure, it’s hard to nail the voice, and granted, I don’t have the age distance from Kareena that Patel has. But there’s lots of easy ways to not do it, and some of those are a) extensively leaning on what you think is “hip” slang, and b) automatically skewing the character’s voices as young as possible within the teenage range. Between the unnecessary censorship of cursing here and there and her childish outbursts, Kareena was not believably 17. Additionally, Patel’s insistence at integrating what she thought to be “current” Gen Z slang was painfully bad. If anything, it dated The Knockout leagues more than making it relevant. It’s not the teenage experience, but instead the teenage movie experience, simply parroting what adults think teenagers sound like. It positions itself as current and relatable while never encapsulating what it was like to be a teenager, making what should’ve been the heart of the novel hollow.

As with Kareena’s supposed 17 years of age, I was never convinced of the stakes in The Knockout. When Patel established how good Kareena was at Muay Thai, all it did was make Kareena feel unnecessarily overpowered. I normally only say that about fantasy or sci-fi novels, but she was just too good to the point that every fight she did seemed to be a fleeting moment of struggle before she absolutely pummels her opponent. This continued throughout the duration of the novel. Even though Kareena had the Olympics on the line, I never once got the sense that this was hard for her. Her training seemed to be the only time she struggled—other than that, she just flew through the US Muay Thai open without a problem. If she actually experienced tangible setbacks within her practice or the Muay Thai open, I would’ve been more motivated to root for her. Yet everything seemed to be handed to her on a platter, making the stakes feel almost nonexistent. I knew from the start that Kareena would get everything that she wanted, and while I appreciate the value of having diverse characters succeeding in their narratives, it made for a book with no stakes.

Bullying is a major plot point in The Knockout, but I don’t think that Patel succeeded in making all of it completely believable. As far as Kareena getting bullied by her other Indian-American peers for not being “Indian” enough went, that was one of the few parts of the book that was successful; unlike the main plot, it gave Kareena’s struggles some tangible weight. However, I wasn’t fully convinced that her doing Muay Thai was something so outrageous that she thinks that she’ll be bullied by the whole school for it. I get that it’s not a traditionally feminine sport, but with the way that Kareena talked about Muay Thai, you would think that she’s coming out of the closet. Even with the cliched interactions between Kareena and her peers, I just couldn’t imagine her being bullied for it, and not just because if someone were to slam her into a locker, teen movie-style, she’d slam right back. Kareena being a Muay Thai champion didn’t feel nearly as dirty as a secret as Patel lead us to believe, which made some of the novel’s more personal stakes less believable as well.

Additionally, I have mixed feelings about the romance between Kareena and Amit. It didn’t fully sidetrack the book for me, but I wasn’t fully invested either. I did like that Amit was instrumental in helping Kareena reconnect with parts of her Indian culture, but I don’t think he had much of a personality beyond what he did for Kareena. They seemed to have almost all the same interests, and Amit didn’t have anything to distinguish himself other than not doing Muay Thai. He was just a blank slate with similarities to Kareena baked in so that there could be some instant “chemistry” between the two of them. The only tension in the romance was when Kareena met his more traditional family, so the tension didn’t even lie with him—it was all outside factors that threatened the integrity of the relationship. The only differences I can really think of about Amit and Kareena is that he comes from a more traditional family and he’s…well, a different gender. That’s it. He wasn’t a person, he was just a boyfriend. I do think that this kind of story is good with a romantic subplot, especially considering that it’s YA realistic fiction, but like almost everything else in The Knockout, I could not get invested whatsoever.

That being said, I do have some positives for the book. I’ve seen a lot of books, especially YA ones, where the main character has to choose between their traditional culture and the more “appealing” American culture. The Knockout, by contrast, had Kareena be raised by two parents who weren’t connected to their culture in a conventional way—they were flexible with letting their daughter be who she wanted to be without sacrificing their Indian heritage in the process. Kareena was disconnected from her roots in some ways (which she begins to remedy in this novel), but both she and her parents emphasize that there’s no single way to be Indian. I can’t speak to any cultural accuracies, of course, but I loved this as a message for a YA book in this context—there’s no one way to be any identity, be it in terms of gender, ethnicity, race, or anything else. Paired with the expectations of femininity that society puts on Kareena, it’s a wonderful message. I also really liked that Kareena had a combination of multiple interests that weren’t traditionally feminine—in addition to Muay Thai, she’s also passionate about computer science. Sadly, all this was overshadowed by the flaws in most of the novel, but if you took all that away, at least The Knockout has something beneficial to say. I just wish it was said in a less cliched, more authentic way.

All in all, a book with a positive message if you soldiered through it, but was bogged down by childish dialogue writing and characters (even by YA standards) and a lack of all-around believability. 2 stars.

The Knockout is a standalone. She is also the author of several books for teens and adults, including Isha, Unscripted, The Design of Us, First Love, Take Two, The Trouble With Hating You, Sleepless in Dubai, My Sister’s Big Fat Indian Wedding, and the Venom series (A Drop of Venom and A Touch of Blood).

Today’s song:

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 5/11/25

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! First off, a very happy Mother’s Day to my wonderful mom. She inspires me to be a better and more creative person every day, and I don’t think I’d be putting pen to paper (in the drawing and writing sense) nearly as much without her guidance and creative inspiration. So thank you for all your support, hard work, and love. I am so, so lucky. 🩵

School’s out, and it should be back to our scheduled programming soon enough. Of course, every time I take a break, I end up rambling tenfold to make up for the absence…apologies in advance. This is what happens when you let me get ahold of a new Car Seat Headrest album.

Since I’ve been in the finals doldrums for a bit, here are my graphics from the past few weeks:

4/27/25:

5/4/25:

This week: BRO DOESN’T EVEN REALIZE THIS IS RESPECTABLE STREET! 🫵😂

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 5/11/25

“Reality” – Car Seat Headrest

The more I think about The Scholars, the more I realize that this is the extreme of Car Seat Headrest’s qualities. Will Toledo has always been a scholar, and a deeply self-indulgent one. I don’t mean that derogatorily at all—his songs are just packed to the gills with references: often Biblical and also encompassing musical and literary greats. Although his life is still interwoven within the narrative (“Is it you or the sickness that’s talking?” on “The Catastrophe [Good Luck With That, Man]”), The Scholars is a veritable library in and of itself.

Not only are the usual suspects of Biblical references and allusions to music and literature, and Toledo’s past work are there, but The Scholars is Car Seat Headrest’s furry rock opera, an omniscient epic taking place at the fictional Parnassus University. There’s a full summary of it in a libretto that’s only available if you buy the vinyl, but thanks to the saints at Genius who, I’ve been able to piece together some of the narrative; it consists of vibrant characters coming out of the closet to their parents, participating in various subcultures around the college, a rival clown college, and a band of punk troubadours. All this culminates in [checks notes] the Dean of Parnassus University getting poisoned after the students from the rival clown college invade. It’s a trip…but I wish it was more readily available! When I say that The Scholars is self-indulgent, I love it in the sense that Will Toledo has created such an inventive, sprawling world between the notes of this album, and that he’s let his ambition run wild, in terms of the scale of the story and the prog sensibilities of the album. He clearly appreciates the value of letting people solve riddles and puzzles, but he’s left hardly any clues to piece together the narrative if we don’t have the libretto. I’d just like it to be more accessible—not in the sense of being more “listener friendly,” but in the sense that I want to actually be able to access the story. There’s clearly so many layers to The Scholars, and I’m dying to know more of the nuance.

That being said, even if you don’t know the story of the Rise and Fall of CCF and the Clowns from Parnassus University, The Scholars is a treat. For the first half, I was almost duped into thinking that the band had almost dipped back into Teens of Denial territory, which was twofold. On the one hand, Teens of Denial has a deeply special place in my heart, a staple of my fourteen-year-old girlhood and one of my favorite albums of all time. After the missteps of Making a Door Less Open, The Scholars is a return to form in some ways. As good as the first half was, I was afraid that it was too much so—even with the rock opera behind it, songs like “Equals” did rather feel like the same stories of drugs and regret that populating Teens of Denial. Yet after “Gethsemane,” “Reality” takes a turn into the more sprawling—and always fascinating. Trading off vocals between Toledo and Ethan Ives, it plunges into pure, 21st-century rock opera, complete with the avalanche of drama and pounding guitars that comes in at around the five-minute mark. I swear that some of the chord progressions remind me of “Cosmic Hero,” another one of my favorite epics from the band, but it’s painted into an unending landscape. Through all eleven minutes, I get the feeling of the culmination of all of the story’s events before the climax—it’s a drawn-out feeling, but one of certainty: they can’t escape what they’ve made, and they must move forward with acceptance of their fate; the whispered utterance of “no stage left” feels like an admittance that they can’t see what they’ve done, but there’s no escape from the consequences: they can’t see the audience. I’m circling back to self-indulgence, but the term sounds so negative: this just feels like Toledo unleashing the multitude of narratives within him. Is it easy to sit down and listen to songs that are nearly 20 minutes long? No, even for me. Yet as esoteric as it is, “Reality,” and this album, is worth your while, if you’ve got the time to set aside. Bottom line: be self-indulgent with your art. It doesn’t matter if there’s a small audience or no audience—you create what you think the world is missing, and the right people will find it.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Scholars 28-page libretto, only available when you purchase the vinyl – not trying to be snarky about it, genuinely. But heck, it’s pretty much a play in and of itself, complete with stage directions in the liner notes.

“Respectable Street” – XTC

This has to be the first Britpop song.

It’s long been accepted that XTC helped mold the Britpop movement as we know it—in fact, he almost had a direct hand in it, as he was Blur’s first choice to produce Modern Life is Rubbish; he produced a handful of the original mixes before departing from the project. But XTC made Britpop 12 years earlier. As much as I adore Blur’s sound and lyrical style from Modern Life up until about The Great Escape, hearing “Respectable Street” makes me realize exactly where they were coming in. I wouldn’t go so far to call some of it a rip-off…well, I almost would. I love Blur too much for that. Blur did develop their own style within this method, but at first, their claim to fame was largely due to songs like these. Not only does this song take a microscope to the arbitrary hypocrisies littering an uptight, quintessentially British neighborhood, but Andy Partridge has the vocal swagger to carry it all. Damon Albarn had the looks, but the line delivery is all Partridge, full of snark and with a cheeky wink as he lays out all of the double standards and not-so-well-kept secrets: “Sunday church and they look fetching/Saturday night saw him retching over our fence.” Of course, almost half of the jabs got butchered by the radio edit (“Now they talk about abortion” was replaced with “absorption,” which makes no sense, but…not a whole lot sounds like abortion, I guess?), but no amount of censorship would dull Partridge’s signature, acerbic style. Piled on with in-your-face production and the quick strikes of guitars, and you’ve got a song that inspired a generation—and hasn’t gotten the least bit old.

Also, about the promo above: I just know that set sounded heinous…I’m gonna go out on a limb and say, however talented all these guys are, that most of them did not know how to play cellos or violins. Definitely the point. Still, it must’ve sounded like middle school band practice in there…

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Mrs. Caliban – Rachel Ingalls – nothin’ like an escaped frog creature to spice up your respectable street, eh?

“Puerto Rico Way” – The 6ths

Stephin Merritt’s writing continues to be something to behold. Even though Mark Robinson (of Unrest fame) is at the vocal helm here, this is one of the 6th’s songs that’s most indicative of Merritt’s ability to not just set a scene, but make something so objectively seedy and nasty-sounding into the most cheerful, sun-bleached indie pop you’ve ever heard. Take the first few lines:

“The sun pissing in the streets/Of some hungover place/Dances with two left feet upon her face/But soft! She is fast asleep/Beneath her mosquitoes/You would never want to know what she knows…”

First off, the imagery of the sun “pissing in the street” is a stroke of genius, evoking the lazy way that sunlight bends and dapples along the subject’s face—something so objectively beautiful turned wayward and gross, an effect that’s stacked once the drunkenness is emphasized by it “dancing with two left feet.” The environment in “Puerto Rico Way” is so bloated with alcohol and oppressive heat, but it carries itself like all of Merritt’s indie pop songs—with more confidence than it should have, given the disappointing, warmed-over love he often writes about. On the track list, it rides the high of “Here in My Heart,” which could add to the cheeriness, but this track carves out a slice of hope, even if Martina doesn’t accept the narrator’s dance, in this “hungover place.” (The drunk, free-spirited, redheaded Martina does read like a manic pixie dream girl, so maybe it wasn’t meant to be after all. Martina’s so crazzzzzzzy! Love her!!!) The admission that “Oh love, it would’ve been ideal” implies that no, she didn’t, but that indie pop-timism (I’ll see myself out) creates a wrapped towel of sunburnt nostalgia, a photograph bleached in the sun, of a fleeting dance and a fleeting girl.

…AND A BOOK GO WITH IT:

The Monstrous Misses Mai – Van Hoang – “She’s drunk every single day/She’s young most of the time/She’s spent all of the rent on her decline…”

“Sheela-Na-Gig” – PJ Harvey

It’s always fascinating to look at songs that seem ostensibly quite feminist, but had none of that intention behind them. Take “Army of Me,” a song that I’ve always interpreted as being about feminine resistance, but was more about Björk trying to get her lazy brother to get up and do something with his life. The lyrics are quite self-empowered, easily interpreted as women breaking free from male-ordered subservience. The feminist leanings are there, but it’s only a sliver of the truth. Do I still feel empowered when I listen to it? Of course. But it’s not the whole story.

The same is true of “Sheela-Na-Gig.” The title references a type of Celtic fertility figure, an image of a laughing woman posing with her genitalia bared outwards. As such, the narrator goes through a sort of comedy of errors as she gets rejected over and over after flaunting her sexual qualities to no avail (“Look at these/my childbearing hips”). It’s easy to take it as a kind of internalizing what men want in women, exhibiting it, and then being turned away when it’s not to their standards; there’s an element of slut-shaming in the male figures not wanting the narrator because she’s “unclean.” The chorus of “Gonna wash that man right outta my hair” (interpolated from South Pacific) is empowered, especially after being kicked to the curb so many times by judgmental men. But PJ Harvey never intended it to be feminist song: as she told Melody Maker in 1992, “I wanted that sense of humour in the song…being able to laugh at yourself in relationships. There’s some anger there but, for me, it’s a funny song. I wasn’t intending it to be a feminist song or anything. I wanted it to have several sides.” And there is something funny about that—if you’ve been rejected with all of the repetition and swiftness of Wile E. Coyote falling off a cliff, all you can do is look back and laugh.

It is a sort of death of the author situation; “Sheela-Na-Gig” hasn’t necessarily been lauded as some feminist anthem (and Harvey said in the same interview above that she didn’t want to be “lumped in” with more forwardly feminist bands), but even a quick glance at any reviews of the song shows that’s how many people tend to take it. In the context of PJ Harvey’s other songs, which are incontestably about misogyny and her struggles as a woman in a male-dominated industry (and world) (see: “50ft Queenie”), “Sheela-Na-Gig” seems to fit into that puzzle. I don’t want to wave that over people’s heads like they interpreted it incorrectly, either—it’s not like I got the aspect on my first listen. (I credit that to Trash Theory.) Personally, I didn’t think all of it was necessarily funny at first, although being as Gen Z as I am, I’ve only heard the phrase “childbearing hips” used sarcastically, so I took that as such. After going through literary theory, I’ve definitely been on the fence-sitting side as far as whether or not to go full death-of-the-author on any given song; the reader’s interpretation does shape the work, but I find it foolish to take it without considering the author’s intent. With “Sheela-Na-Gig,” I think there’s a lot that can be empowering, but what may be most empowering to me is finding the humor in being a woman. The semi-autobiographical narrator swings and misses repeatedly, but doesn’t let any judgement get under her skin. All of the ferocious power chords signal that she’s ready to dust herself off and try again. In the present moment, the narrator hasn’t yet learned, but the fact that PJ Harvey has looked back and learned herself seems more the point to me: having the self-awareness to feel bad for your past self, but be able to laugh at their mistakes. There’s power in being able to look back and laugh instead of wallow in sorrow—when you’re a woman, it’s all you can do sometimes. It may not necessarily be feminist, but it sure is a part of life.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Shit Cassandra Saw – Gwen E. Kirby – chronicling the varied experiences of women with wry humor—and honesty.

“Ate the Moon” – Tunde Adebimpe

It’s been almost a month since Thee Black Boltz came out, and the question remains: is this enough to sate us through the dreaded TV on the Radio drought? For the most part, I’d say yes—but it’s a separate, branching effort. Though it proves that Tunde Adebimpe was the beating heart of the band, he’s more than formidable on his own, minus Dave Sitek’s production and piled on with more synths. Though it’s not without its misses, Thee Black Boltz feels like Adebimpe stretching his fingers out in all different directions, but never stretching them beyond what makes me come back to TV on the Radio so often.

With a central theme of overwhelm during times of crisis and searching for light—creativity—amidst the choking smog, Adebimpe turns to synths and more danceable beats (see: “Somebody New,” a bolder, dancier gamble that mostly paid off in spite of the autotune) in order to pull through. “Ate the Moon” is about that overwhelm, if the title doesn’t already clue you in. Swallowed by anxious spiraling and visions of horror, the narrator scrambles for answers, but finds only regret: an echoing, childlike voice proclaims after the “the man who ate the moon” chorus that “and he choked, of course, because he bit off more than he could chew. Such a dummy!” “Dummy” echoes and is pitched down as it fades out, distorted into a trickster baring a triumphant, toothy grin as it disappears into the darkness like the Cheshire Cat. “Ate the Moon” certainly has some of what I think the albums pitfalls are: the lyricism is on the simpler, more obvious side. Not inherently a drawback, but after something as rawly and artfully written as “Tonight,” it feels cheap for him to rhyme “fire” and “desire” for the millionth time. It’s like Jeff Tweedy using someone being “cool enough to be ice cream” as a metaphor after being such an unparalleled poet otherwise. But like “Ice Cream,” it’s easy to love “Ate the Moon.” With the instant hit of Adebimpe’s boxing gloved punch of a voice and the synths and guitars that have been sewn into an electronic gestalt, it’s one of the most unique songs on the album, an adrenaline-pumped trip into the downward spiral of autonomy-less fear.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Death of the Author – Nnedi Okorafor – “Seems I was iII-prepared/For the fall that finds me here/Sad extremes running through my head/Knocked my blues into the red…”

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

Posted in Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Books for AAPI Heritage Month (2025 Edition)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Monday, bibliophiles! I’m not fully back on schedule yet (still in the process of cleaning up my dorm), but I figured I would put out this post for the occasion.

Here in the U.S., May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month! Among the many histories that America has been attempting to erase is that of the AAPI (Asian American and Pacific Islander) community, even though they are a critical part of our country’s history. We’re so quick to dismiss the discrimination of Chinese immigrant laborers in the late 1800’s, the Japanese internment camps, and the bigotry faced by South Asian Americans, whether or not they were Muslim, as part of the rampant Islamophobia post-9/11. This history may not be in the spotlight as far as discrimination targets, but just because it’s getting less press doesn’t mean it’s there. Just look at Maggie Tokuda-Hall, who received requests from her publisher to remove specific mentions of racism from the author’s note of her picture book, Love in the Library, which takes place in the Japanese internment camps. (Good on her for not taking the licensing deal. Another reason to love Tokuda-Hall, who appears on this list!) Erasing the horrors of discrimination and racism from our shelves only serves to raise an uneducated, uncritical generation—the opposite of what we need right now.

Looking back on my previous lists, I noticed something. I’ve neglected the PI in AAPI, and that’s a mistake on my part. Books by Pacific Islanders rarely seem to get the spotlight, even during AAPI Heritage month, but that still doesn’t excuse me overlooking that part of the acronym—and the world. This is the first year that I actually do have a few great recommendations from Pacific Islander authors, but please let me know if you have any more recommendations! I’m on the lookout.

For my past lists, click below: 

Let’s begin, shall we?

THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR AAPI HERITAGE MONTH (2025 EDITION)

FANTASY:

FICTION:

SCIENCE FICTION:

NONFICTION:

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of the books on this list, and if so, what did you think of them? What are some of your favorite books by AAPI authors?

Today’s song:

That’s it for this list! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Monthly Wrap-Ups

March/April Wrap-Up🪻

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Thursday, bibliophiles!

Here’s my favorite flower emoji. Pick it if you like—it’s for everyone to enjoy, but it’s not real, no damage done! Keep it for the road:🪻

You’ve probably noticed by now that I’ve gone into my finals hibernation. The only reason I’m popping on right now is because this post is mostly pre-written, so I’ll probably be radio silent for another week or so. March and April have been topsy-turvy—despite the veil of illusion that is the internet, I’m always on the verge of freaking out about the news. I’ve had my fair share of spirals. I repeat to myself: I do what I can. I can freak out, but I can never give in to fear. Easier said than done, but I’m trying here. I’m donating when I can. I’m getting the word out. And when I actually have the time, I’m keeping up with reading diversely and reviewing intersectionally. The sun is out, the weather is warmer, and I am trying to soak up as much of it as I can.

Today’s my last official day of my junior year of college. I’ve got finals ahead, but I’ve got the humanities blessing of having no in-person finals, just papers to turn in. They’re all longer than I’d care to write, but thankfully they’re all about things I enjoy. I’ve done a lot of writing about science fiction, especially cozy sci-fi and how it’s a counter to sci-fi convention of how everything has to have the universe at stake. It’s worth it to tell stories where, to take Kurt Vonnegut at his most literally, all the characters want is just a glass of water. Quiet stories of kindness are not naïve—they teach us to dream about worlds where everything around us is kinder.

As I look back on junior year, I see a fishbowl with pebbles strewn across the floor, but the goldfish flopped back into what was left and did its very best to thrive. I took on a hefty workload while juggling a metric ton of anxiety, and it’s been an uphill battle to stay mindful and stay present. But I am learning. I’m getting better. I really think I can see clear signs that I’ve gotten better this semester. Sure, I had the workload, but I was able to, y’know, get out and realize that there are people and places beyond my bed and that the voices in my head are full of shit. I stepped out of my comfort zone…within bounds. I expanded the zone, shall we say. I went to some new restaurants and got a tad more social. Most of all, I tried to embody the joy that I don’t see in the word around me. I know there are plenty of lazy people using “joy as an act of resistance” as an excuse to do absolutely nothing to counteract the hellscape around us, but it’s true. When people are unironically saying things like “the sin of empathy” and not even stopping to think about what the hell they’ve just said, being joyful and showing those in power that you won’t bend to their tactics is as powerful as any protest. So keep on finding and being the joy.

Today, I group-hugged some friends of mine after class. Two of them are graduating seniors, and today was their last ever day in undergrad. In an attempt to adjust my position, I ended up jostled to the center of the hug. It embodied the feeling that I hope to give to myself and others: being surrounded by love on all sides. Junior year’s out the window. Onto better things Thursday.

Let’s begin, shall we?

MARCH READING WRAP-UP:

I read 13 books in March! I focused mainly on books by women for Women’s History Month. I also got into a major sci-fi stint (they never go away, every other reading mood just happens in between them), and read some new greats by familiar authors!

2 – 2.75 stars:

A Children’s Bible

3 – 3.75 stars:

All Systems Red

4 – 4.75 stars:

Bowling with Corpses & Other Strange Tales from Lands Unknown

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH – The Last Gifts of the Universe – 4.75 stars, rounded up to 5

The Last Gifts of the Universe

REVIEWS:

BONUS:

SUNDAY SONGS:

APRIL READING WRAP-UP:

I read 16 books in April! Trust me, I have genuinely no clue how that managed to happen. “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened,” or something? We’ll see if I can actually keep up the momentum. Either way, April was a mixed bag—some absolute hard-hitters, but also my very first DNF of the year. (Sorry, The Phoenix Keeper. I just feel like there’s millions of better ways to describe the pale white MC than having skin like “gossamer.” With all of the mythical creatures, I was starting to think that she was one too, given that word choice…)

1 – 1.75 stars:

The Phoenix Keeper

2 – 2.75 stars:

The Queer Girl Is Going to Be Okay

3 – 3.75 stars:

Roll for Love

4 – 4.75 stars:

You Sexy Thing

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: The River Has Roots – 4.5 stars

The River Has Roots

REVIEWS:

SUNDAY SONGS:

Today’s song:

remembered this song out of nowhere yesterday…this song was on a birthday playlist that my dad made for me, and I had it on my new iPod. it’s still kickin’ to this day, somehow. fond memories abound…

That’s it for the second wrap-up of the year! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 4/20/25

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles, and happy Easter for those celebrating! 🐣 I hope this week has treated you well.

This week: stories from concerts, songs I heard before concerts, and songs that enticed me because of a cat on the album cover.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 4/20/25

“DOA” – St. Vincent

I’ve got a confession to make. As die-hard of a St. Vincent fan as I am, it took me some time to warm up to this song. I never hated it, but it wasn’t an instant favorite. I haven’t seen Death of a Unicorn yet (though the trailer intrigued me…), but something that always bothers me about songs made for movies and TV is when they obliquely reference either the plot points of the movie or how the characters are feeling. Hot take, but it’s part of why I didn’t care for the original soundtrack of Arcane—it basically did that for most of the character’s conflicts and arcs. (That, and it’s a matter of my music taste. Don’t let that deter you from watching Arcane though, it’s a breathtaking show! Having Im*gine Dr*gons do the theme song was just the worst possible decision they could’ve made. Just skip the intro.) You can make a song subtly extrapolating on a movie’s themes and have it fit naturally! (See: “Strange Love,” “Sticks & Stones”) Hell, she’s done it before with the original songs for her concert-film-turned-thriller The Nowhere Inn! Granted, I haven’t seen the movie, but opening the song with “Right as I had stopped believing in miracles/In comes a unicorn right in front of me” is…right there. So is the unicorn, I guess.

From then on out, “DOA” easily saves itself. It’s an absolute ’80s freakout from start to finish. The synths are so dense and bubbly that St. Vincent’s voice easily drowns in them—it’s like they’re the main vocal, and that kind of chaos, especially towards the latter half, is what makes the song so rich. “DOA” leads me to believe that somewhere, there’s a better, kinder alternate universe where MASSEDUCTION sounded more like this. It strikes the balance that album never got, with lightning-quick synth palpitations duel with Annie Clark’s classic, punchy guitar breakdowns. Piercing yelps cut through the dense, purple fog shrouding the song—again, I haven’t seen Death of a Unicorn, but it certainly brings to mind what I might feel if I was being pursued through the woods by a dubiously carnivorous unicorn. Given the film’s purported balance of campy concepts and dark execution, “DOA” is the perfect merging of the two aesthetics.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Catherine House – Elisabeth Thomas – a similarly out-of-time feel, as well as dabbling with strange, magical substances.

“Skully” – Jawdropped

No way, I’d never listen to a band just because I saw a picture of them where one member had a Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space shirt. Me? Nah, never. I’m a woman of taste…it was the album cover and the shirt that convinced me to at least listen.

I heard of Jawdropped by way of Stereogum; they reviewed the first singles off of their forthcoming debut (!!) EP, Just Fantasy, and I figured I might as well give it a go. Thankfully, they’ve got more to them than just a cute sphinx on their album cover and one guy with a Spiritualized shirt! I keep coming back to “Skully,” the opening track, which is about as propulsive as an opening track can get. It’s truly one of those songs where they’ve mastered how to make guitars cascade down like an avalanche on the first go, which is something not every band can say for themselves—especially not on a debut EP. Between the instrumental chaos of the chorus, they ease the verse into calm, a beast of burden tugged out of a sprint, in order to let the harmonies of Roman Zangari and Kyra Morling take the spotlight. But it’s that colossal cascade that makes “Skully” so excited; they don’t strike me as particularly similar to Spiritualized (this may be a bit too loud for shoegaze), but Jawdropped has a similar quality of encasing the listener in a fizzling, crackling bubble of sound. For all of 2:48, you’re cocooned on a moment’s notice—and it’s a cocoon worth revisiting time after time.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Ones We’re Meant to Find – Joan He – “I wait for you like a dog/Anxiously pacing/But you’re here when things fall apart/It’s just your nature/ We’re always stuck at the start…”

“Miss You” – The Rolling Stones

If I just put this song on in the background, I can ignore the cringy, “hip” lyric videos that The Rolling Stones started putting out after their newest album. I can’t stand that soulless, faux-graffiti/DIY aesthetic…I just can’t separate them from how painfully hard they’re trying to stay relevant to The Kids™️…

Anyways. We’ll pretend it’s 1978 and Official Lyric Videos For the Youth won’t be a thing for many decades to come. Like “Crooked Teeth,” “Miss You” was one of those songs where I’d have that opening riff (not the lyrics, this time) ping-ponging around in my head. It lingered in the fog of my childhood, but too far to discern anything clear. So thank you to the instagram for The Laughing Goat (and Rita) for making me remember it after however many years it was! And then, mere days afterwards, they played this song, amongst several other seventies rockers (see: “I Saw the Light”). “Miss You” was going to reach me either way. Some Girls seems to have come at the time when the Stones had cemented that sleaze was part of their brand, and subsequently became said sleaze. Despite “I guess I’m lying to myself/It’s just you and no one else,” it’s a song that lies squarely in the kind of horniness that defined them throughout the late ’60s and the ’70s. Even if he’s denying them, the way he croons the line about the “Puerto Rican girls that’s dying to meetchoo” betrays the partying and sex that later became as much a part of him as the press originally made them out to be when pinning them against the goody-two-shoes (citation needed) Beatles. There’s a Lou Reed-like drawl to the way he turns to a half-whisper as he speaks of stalking Central Park in the dead of night like some kind of werewolf, yet it couldn’t be more Jagger; the bluesy, “hoo hoo hoo-ooh hoo-ooh ooh” refrain almost becomes an abated, wolfish howl against this backdrop, roiling with angst.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Final Revival of Opal & Nev – Dawnie Walton – I try to refrain from talking about this book whenever I mention something from the ’70s, but this kind of bluesy rock fits in with the scene that it describes.

“Lindy-Lou” – The 6ths

Back to The 6ths after last week, I’m dipping my toes into Hyacinths and Thistles, Stephin Merritt’s 2000 follow-up to Wasp’s Nests, and slightly less of a tongue twister, if you say it slowly enough. (Maybe?) In contrast, there’s still some of the same synth-pop love songs, other than…the last track being nearly a half-hour long? Not sure if I know what’s going on there, and as much as I love Merritt, I’m not sure I want to know. In contrast to the ’90s indie-rock guest list, we’ve got everybody from Melanie (sadly, kind of a miss) to Gary Numan (wild pick, but great)—Merritt had his feelers out everywhere, to varying degrees of success. From the few songs I’ve sampled, “Lindy-Lou” was one of the undoubted hits, sung by Miho Hatori, one of the founding members of Cibo Matto, but best known to me as the original voice of Noodle from Gorillaz. As with Anna Domino and Mary Timony for you, she lends her tender vocals to a song gleaming with dreamy-eyed innocence. Accompanied only by keyboard, this seems to stare wistfully from a balcony as the wind toys with its hair, Amelie-style. It’s never cloying in its sweetness, but it’s so soft and intimate, the musical equivalent of a sweatered shoulder to lean on.

BONUS: somehow, I had no idea this existed beforehand, which is crazy, considering how much Car Seat Headrest has been a part of my life…back in 2013, in the car seat headrest-recording days, Will Toledo covered this song!

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Infinity Particle – Wendy Xu – quiet, tender love between a student and a lonely android.

“Family and Genus” – Shakey Graves

I’ve now seen Shakey Graves…2.5 times. I don’t fully count the second time, as it was at a crowded festival and I had no way of seeing him, so my mom and I listened to him at a safe distance behind the wall of drunk people. I amended it this time by shouldering my way up to the front row for round 3, as Shakey Graves is touring for the tenth anniversary of And the War Came! Other than the two drunk people who tried to get me to give up my seat (one even offered me $100), this show fully made up for not being able to see him last time. Shakey Graves, seen unobstructed for the first time since 2023!

What struck me at this show in particular was how genuine he is as a songwriter. So many artists in the folk and country-adjacent genre put on this kind of persona of being a wanderer with no permanent home, forever married to the road and dismissive of being bound to any one location. Alejandro Rose-Garcia has fully leaned into this persona (see: “Built to Roam”). Yet he’s the only one I’ve seen who makes it genuine. He’s roamed his fair share, but he’s never dismissive of the journey or the people who helped him along the way. Throughout the show, he paid tribute to friends and enemies throughout his life, his wife and newborn daughter, and for “Family and Genus,” raised a toast to family and friends that make the roaming easier—and more interesting. He’s a troubadour storyteller, but he never tells a lie. I keep coming back to how genius “Family and Genus” is—even as one of his most popular songs (I’m sure the Elementary TV spot helped), the craft is so intricate and lovingly stitched—just as the relationships he penned this as an ode to. Where the studio version’s “ohs” on the chorus sound like a choir of trickster ghosts, he imbues every raw ounce of love into them, turning it into a raucous crowd-pleaser that makes you feel that family, the sinew and atoms binding us together. And his rapid-fire fingerpicking on his guitar never ceases to amaze me—the fact that Rose-Garcia has barely gotten his flowers as the masterful guitarist that he is remains a disservice to his ingenuity. Hearing the echo of hundreds of voices around me, a handful I have the treasure and pleasure of calling family (minus said obnoxious drunk people), and countless others that I’ve never seen again after that night, solidified his statement of purpose.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Hammajang Luck – Makana Yamamoto – “If I ever wander on by/Could, could you/Flag me down and beg me to/Drop what I’m doing and sit beside you?”

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (4/15/25) – Afrotistic

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

April is Autism Acceptance Month, and although I probably won’t have time to make a whole post about it (blame finals), I figured I would review a book with an autistic protagonist and an autistic author! This one’s been on my TBR for a few years, but I was only able to find a copy more recently. Although it wasn’t perfect, it’s a great book to introduce a younger audience to autistic issues, especially from a more diverse perspective.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Afrotistic – Kala Allen Omeiza

15-year-old Noa Ohunene Jenkins doesn’t know where she fits in—or if she can fit in at all. All of her life, she’s never felt Black enough or autistic enough. And now that she’s moving to a new high school, she doesn’t know if she’ll fit into either communities—much less her new school. Noa has her mind set on one thing: a place in the Dean’s Merit Society. The problem is, the only way she’ll get in is if she has leadership experience. Scrambling for answers, she decides to gather up fellow autistic teenagers and forms a group to discuss autistic issues. But will it be enough to show her peers and teachers that she’s just as worthy of praise?

TW/CW: ableism, racism, bullying, mentions of suicide (past), brief mentions of police brutality (in reference to police violence towards autistic people)

Afrotistic has been languishing on my TBR for way too long, but even though it wasn’t a perfect book, I think it’s a great book to introduce people—especially kids and young adults—to autism, ableism, and the intersection of race and disability! It’s already difficult to find neurodivergent representation in literature, but rarer within that category is autistic people of color—for that alone, Afrotistic is such an important book.

For some reason, I misremembered Afrotistic as being middle grade. Who knows why. I kept that assumption going in, and then I of course found out that Noa is 15 years old and a sophomore in high school. Whoops. That being said, going in with that mindset wasn’t all that bad, because I really feel like Afrotistic hits that sweet spot between middle grade and YA that’s so often unexplored. It appeals to a mid-teens age range because of its protagonist, but the writing is accessible enough that I feel like kids as young as 12 or 13 could comfortably read and relate to Noa and the other characters. (The fact that 12-18 is such a huge range of maturity for a single age group is whole can of worms, so I’ll save it for another time.) There are some more mature and sensitive topics that are briefly discussed (police brutality against autistic people of color, for one), but it’s brief enough that I feel like that age range could process and learn from it. Neurodivergent representation is hard to find in books aimed at all ages, and I feel Omeiza’s accessible writing style, as well as the relatability of Noa as a protagonist, makes for a book that could teach tons of pre-teens and young adults alike about Black and autistic identity.

Another reason I’m glad that Afrotistic exists is because of the intersectionality! The primary focus is on Noa’s identity as a young, Black, autistic girl, and how she’s struggled to make her voice heard because of how little attention is paid to neurodivergent (and disabled in general) people of color. Both through the essay excerpts in the story and through her real-time experiences not being believed by her peers and teachers, it was a poignant narrative about how neurodivergent people of color have to fight even harder to have their needs met and understood. Going off of that, I appreciated that within the Roaring Pebbles, there was a lot of intersectionality as well; as well as all of them being autistic, there was a mixed-race character with cerebral palsy, as well as men and women being present.

That being said, I wasn’t as charmed by the characters as the characters themselves seemed to be. I loved Noa and was rooting for her throughout the story, but I found myself less compelled by some of the other characters. It was clear that the friendship between Noa and Brayden was supposed to be one of the core friendships in the novel, but I really didn’t feel any kind of friendship chemistry between them. All Brayden seemed to do was make jokes that didn’t land and make awfully pushy remarks to Noa joining his youth group. I get that Noa is also Christian and doesn’t necessarily mind, but I feel like even if I was also Christian and I had somebody trying to get me to join their youth group that persistently, I’d snap. The issue with most of the other characters is that they were rather underdeveloped; this was inevitable with the amount of characters that were focused on in the Roaring Pebbles, but even the ones that had more page time were boiled down to one or two traits at most. I get that it’s difficult to juggle that many characters, but even the ones that were relatively more in the spotlight weren’t given enough traits to make them stand out. Going back to the whole pushy youth group thing with Brayden, I found it hard to believe that every single member of the Roaring Pebbles were completely fine with their group being filtered through said youth group and having a name with biblical inspiration. I get that if you’re strapped for resources, any venue you can have to gather is essential, but I would imagine that at least one of these characters isn’t Christian…

Additionally, what also soured me to some of these characters was the random side plots that weighed the story down. There’s a whole, completely unnecessary thread of two of the boys in Roaring Pebbles fighting over a girl that gets entirely too much page time and only served to derail the plot. About half of the conflicts that occur throughout Afrotistic felt of this nature—some of them were natural (like the inevitable issue that some of the autistic people have different triggers, which was something I appreciated being included and discussed), but others felt like filler. Here’s the issue: Afrotistic is only about 250 pages (on my Kindle edition), so there could have been so many more opportunities to discuss more aspects of Noa’s friendships, identity, or even her home life. Instead, we got problems that were solved far too quickly and didn’t contribute anything to the plot.

Also: I’m not completely sure how to feel about this, but I had to mention it. At some point, when Noa is surveying the different cliques in the lunchroom, she labels two of them the “woke kids” and the “cool woke kids.” It was…odd, to say the least? I can kind of see it as being a factor of her not feeling autistic/Black enough for those crowds, but I’ve never once heard cliques described as “woke” unless it’s some weird, insecure conservative person. I guess I’m so used to seeing “woke” being lobbed at anything vaguely liberal (or considerate of basic human decency) these days, but Afrotistic was published in 2022, and the same was true then. I’m just not sure how I feel about that.

All in all, a timely novel that deftly highlights the issues that autistic people of color face, but stumbled in terms of its characters and frequent plot digressions. 3.5 stars!

Afrotistic is a standalone novel, but Kala Allen Omeiza is also the author of Autistic and Black: Our Experiences of Growth, Progress, and Empowerment, and The Worst Saturday Ever.

Today’s song:

SO glad I found this song!! Brian Eno never gets old

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 4/13/25

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.

This week: your yearly dose of “Madeline blubbering about the unknowable beauty of the universe and also Björk (in no particular order.”

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 4/13/25

“Cosmogony” – Björk

Not to be dramatic or anything, but I am currently writing this through tears. Every time I pull up the live version of this from the Biophilia concert film, I start crying. Damn you, Björk, could you not carve out the softest, tenderest bits of my soul with a melon baller for once?

Maybe I am the soft, snowflake humanities major that Trump wants to extract from higher education, but I find I understand science best when you bring out its inherently human qualities. We went wrong when we perpetuated the stereotype of the sciences, and scientists by extension, as cold and removed from emotion, because to separate the two is to deny the connectivity of nature, of the universe, and of the particles that quite literally make up all of us. (Which is why SciAll is doing incredible work to humanize the field, and even better that my awesome brother is making content for them!! Shameless Todd family plug, now back to your scheduled program.) Sure, I do believe the stereotype whenever I pass by the absolute brutalist hellscape that is my college’s engineering building, but that isn’t representative of all of STEM. I’ve never gotten physics. I’ve never fully understood it, only bits and pieces. But the other day, I read a great book called Uncommon Measure, a memoir about time and music, which likened quantum entanglement—the way that particles just know how others around them will move—to falling in love with her husband while they learned to dance Argentinian tango in college, and trusting her body to remember the steps and the movements of her partner. Do I understand quantum entanglement any more? Slightly, but I’d still fail a course on it. But I’m on my way, because of that emotion. The moment we lose that connection between ourselves and the very makeup of our universe, we forget ourselves. Quite literally, ourselves.

Now that I’ve finished Sonic Symbolism, my Sunday Songs have admittedly become months of Björk worship in a trenchcoat, but getting this nuanced view on her music-making process has seriously invigorated me. I’ve yet to fully listen to Biophilia, but it’s high on my list. The album was conceived along with an app that aimed to teach children about music through concepts of science; for instance, chords and learning which chords work best with each other is demonstrated by a visualization of tectonic plates. And if that’s not enough, David Attenborough, THE MAN HIMSELF, recorded an intro for the app, which was also featured on the Biophilia tour. Though the app is sadly defunct, it remains a critical piece of Björk’s creative legacy, as well as a tool that was specifically shown to benefit neurodivergent children in learning these concepts. In the grand scheme of things, “Cosmogony” was the menu that held the rest of the app together, a screen where you could navigate to different parts of Björk’s simulated universe. (And even if that didn’t exist, the aesthetic language of the album, with Björk’s voluminous wig that’s the color of oxidizing copper.)

That fusion of the arts and sciences, as well as the inherent humanism that Björk brings to her craft, is what makes “Cosmogony” so special; the song details three creation myths from around the world (Miwok Native American, Sanskrit, and Aboriginal Australian), and she adds the Big Bang theory, which she jokingly referred to as “a creation myth that is 100 years old,” but pointed out that “all creation myths at the time of their making were science.” The song begins with a kind of transcendental choir that rises in pitch, mimicking the motion of eyes searching the stars. It’s the only music that has ever captured the feeling I often felt while taking an astronomy class last year. As I stared up at the planetarium, watching as simulations of the known universe expanded outward ad infinitum, I had this bizarre, incomparable cocktail of emotions—fear, wonder, and somehow, comfort. It’s impossible to feel a single emotion at the revelation that our universe is infinitely large and full of places we cannot even begin to reach or imagine, is it? Space is a cold, unwelcome vacuum, but it is fertile with endless possibility. And that’s where Björk punches me in the gut every time, dredging out the wonder, comfort, and ecstasy of being surrounded by billions upon trillions of stars and planets: “Heaven, heaven’s bodies/Whirl around me/Dance eternal.” I’d say somebody hold me, but I am being held. All of us are, by the arms of the universe.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Search for WondLa – Tony DiTerlizzi – I can easily imagine this as Eva Nine sees the Rings of Orbona for the first time, coming to terms with her own clashing creation myths.

“Crooked Teeth” – Death Cab for Cutie

Bring back those stop-motion, collaged indie rock music videos from the 2000’s! We lost something when that trend went away. They’re all so inventive and fun, and they all have that token darkly funny moment before going right back to silly little cutouts of floating astronauts and whatnot. (See also: “Can You Feel It?”)

Song lyric of the week, unofficially: “You’re so cute when you’re slurring your speech/But they’re closing the bar and they want us to leave.” This song is an absolute indie hit, and it deserves that status: a three and a half minute-long pocket of sad white boys, clever lyrics, and lovely harmonies. That’s probably why I found myself occasionally remembering the chorus of “‘Cause you can’t find nothing at all” every few years and forgetting the rest of the song. Shame that I forgot the rest, really, because that’s not even the catchiest bit. Admittedly, I find the “I’m a war between head versus heart” bridge rather corny compared to some of the more poetic bits of this song, but that’s because of how descriptive every line is. Ben Gibbard really knows how to make every line count, from the lyricism down to the precise inflection of each word. The way his voice creeps through the notes makes the expression “turn of phrase” make sense—every sentences seems to twist like vines. All of it becomes “the home in my heart” built with rotten wood that leads into the first chorus; much like the collection of landmarks that Gibbard describes, it’s a blurred, drunken stumble through a mutually destructive relationship that keeps losing its water, no matter how many strips of tape you put over the holes in the kiddie pool. Yet all of it is irresistible, as is the last dregs of romance that have drained out of whatever hot mess Gibbard is chronicling.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Vicious – V.E. Schwab – “‘Cause I built you a home in my heart/With rotten wood, and it decayed from the start/’Cause you can’t find nothing at all/If there was nothing there all along…”

“I Saw the Light” – Todd Rundgren

There’s a sliding scale of what degree of early ’70s that I enjoy. On the one end, you’ve got glam rock: your Bowies, Bolans, Brian (Eno)s, etc. It all depends on that warm guitar tone. By the time you get here, you’ve got the guitar tone, but then you’ve inched into the same breath as Steely Dan, and…okay, that might be where I draw the line. (Admittedly, “Peg” is better than it should be.) That’s about when you get into that yacht-rock kind of cheese that I can’t quite stand. This one Todd Rundgren song, however…safe. Can’t deny how catchy it is, god! Another delightful tidbit of the ’70s I tend to enjoy is the pianos—I’m not sure if it’s the specific kind of piano or just the sound quality, but there’s something so charming about that tinny kind of piano that’s punctuates the background. Each bend Rundgren hits on the guitar strings feels like a sway of the hip, a twist of the leg striding across the dancefloor. Sure, he specifically meant for it to be a hit and not much else (and apparently cranked it out in 20 minutes while addicted to Ritalin), but it works perfectly as such. “I Saw the Light” has a joyful groove that’s been undeniable for 50+ decades, but exists in amber as nothing but 1972: smooth, romantic, and oh so bright in that guitar tone.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Seven Devils – Laura Lam and Elizabeth May – songs with lyrics that are on the…more generic side (sorry, Todd) don’t give me as much rope, so it’s mood I’m going off of for this one, a messy, romantic space opera.

“CCF (I’m Gonna Stay With You)” – Car Seat Headrest

Car Seat Headrest is back, and they’re making obscenely long songs again!! Nature is healing!! (And apparently, these aren’t even the longest? The second to last track is purportedly 19 MINUTES LONG? “Famous Prophets (Stars)” has some competition…) So is Will Toledo, evidently—I’m so glad he and the band are taking it slowly on this tour (which I am SO elated to have tickets for), but I’m glad that he’s gotten to a place with his long COVID that he can make some more angsty masterpieces.

It really does seem like The Scholars will be some of Car Seat Headrest’s boldest work to date. Toledo conceived of this album as a rock opera, inspired by the likes of Tommy and The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, centered around the fictional Parnassus University. Each song centers around a student; the excellent, nearly 11-minute long epic of a single, “Gethsemane,” for instance, follows Rosa, a medical student who dabbles in necromancy and discovers that she can absorb the pain of others. Aside from said Gethsemane, Toledo also said that he was inspired by his own journey into Buddhist practices while he dealt with long COVID and his lifelong, conflicting feelings surrounding his spirituality. It’s an incredibly ambitious cocktail of ideas and about as spacious as a university campus, but it seems like the pent-up work of five years of not releasing any new material and the flood of ideas that I’m sure came along with it.

If there’s one thing that Car Seat Headrest has perfected the art of, it’s making album intros. They’re all about giving you that antici……pation, but the payoff is even more rewarding than the almost cinematic buildup. Even on weaker albums such as 2020’s Making a Door Less Open, “Weightlifters” had a kind of thesis about the album’s musical motifs, and on the iconic Teens of Denial, “Fill in the Blank” sets the upbeat, angsty tone with ease. “CCF (I’m Gonna Stay With You)” reminded me immediately of “Vincent” and its echoing intro, but what follows is an explosive display of the band’s collective talent. Toledo, Ethan Ives, Seth Dalby, and Andrew Katz’s synchronicity creates a soundscape deserving of a sprawling rock opera, and Toledo’s poetic lyricism is befitting of Beolco, the playwright character this song is written from the perspective of. Long COVID couldn’t beat the healing salve that is Will Toledo’s voice, which simultaneously retains notes of his youth but has undeniably steadied and matured. “CCF (I’m Gonna Stay With You)” has threads of Teens of Denial all over the place (aforementioned “Vincent” similarities, and the horns reminded me of “Cosmic Hero”), but something about it has an inherently spacious vision beyond the storytelling—this is a whole universe that they’ve created, and I, for one, am elated to discover it. MY BODY IS READY.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Hell Followed With Us – Andrew Joseph White – “When I come down off this cross of mine/A hairsbreadth apart and as far as the sky/Then back on my spine, there was a line that my idols crossed that I could not cross/On the other side is love, and right here is loss…”

“Here In My Heart” – The 6ths

Another addition to artists who cannot stop cooking: Stephin Merritt. Not only does he have some impressive vocal range and an excellent body of work with The Magnetic Fields, he’s a part of several other side projects—one of which, The 6ths, where he barely even sang, but just did arrangements and lyrics, and had a whole host of amazing indie artists sing for him. Dean Wareham (“Falling Out of Love [With You]”), Chris Knox (“When I’m Out of Town”), Mary Timony (“All Dressed Up in Dreams”), and Mark Robinson (“Puerto Rico Way”) are just a handful of the guests on this album, Wasp’s Nests. (However, he did sing himself on the also fantastic “Aging Spinsters.”) All of them are folded into the lovelorn synth tapestry that Merritt has woven, and though the voices vary, all of it is so distinctly him. The love (or love-related) songs he pens are usually of the lost love variety, but “Here In My Heart” is about as pure as they get; even if the love in question is far away, the yearning spills out of the chorus like thousands of butterflies. Every electronic twinkle glows warmly with love, the kind that makes your chest light up like in Fantastic Mr. Fox, but the glow never feels fake—it’s an ecstatic, crush outpouring that never loses its sheen. Anna Domino’s voice, as twinkling and delicate as the synths, blends in as a shimmering blot of light in the constellation of this starry-eyed love song.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Sound of Stars – Alechia Dow – The lovesickness and synth textures fit with the hopeful joy of this novel.

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (4/8/25) – You Sexy Thing

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’ll skip the prologue about how predictable it is that I picked up another queer space opera, and one with a ’70s music reference in the title at that. (SING IT WITH ME!! 🎶I BE-LIEVE IN MIRACLES—🎶) Nonetheless, I kept my expectations low, and I’m glad I did. Hilarious, heartbreaking, and heartwarming all at once, You Sexy Thing is the start of a true joy of a space opera trilogy!

Enjoy this week’s review!

You Sexy Thing – Cat Rambo

It’s been decades since Niko Larson and her fellow soldiers were able to break free of the Grand Military of the Hive Mind, where they were voiceless pawns in a never-ending war. Now, they run the Last Chance, a humble restaurant at the edge of TwiceFar Station, serving customers from all over the galaxy and from all walks of life. But when a mysterious, sentient ship destroys their livelihood before giving them a mysterious mission that they can’t refuse, Niko and her fellow chefs and restaurateurs must return to the fray they tried so desperately to escape—all with the heir to the Paxian Empire in tow.

TW/CW: sexual content, violence, blood, torture, kidnapping/imprisonment, war themes, abuse, genocide themes, death

The entire time I was reading this book, I’d click on the Kindle cover and I’d immediately start hearing “You Sexy Thing.” It just kept coming back, like I was trapped in a sitcom gag with a signature musical cue. Probably the intended effect. Not complaining, though. Absolute banger.

What an excellent space opera this was! You Sexy Thing scratched so many of my favorite sci-fi itches, and one of the biggest ones was the aliens and creatures! CREATURES! CREATURES! I’d place You Sexy Thing as bordering on space fantasy, though I won’t go into a whole digression on what counts/doesn’t count as sci-fi or SF; that was mainly because of the ghosts, some magic use, and were-creatures. However, Rambo did an excellent job with all of the alien denizens of this galaxy! There was a fantastic balance of humanoid and more unfamiliar creatures, all of whom were delightful. Skidoo was a personal favorite, as I’m particularly fond of any kind of cephalopod-inspired aliens, but Petalia, even if their name was rather on-the-nose (in line with a lot of the humor of the book), had some fascinating details about their culture and plant-based physiology. Also, there’s a chimp. Gotta have a chimp to round out the crew, amirite? Thankfully, this one doesn’t go the way of Nope, and Gio is a perfectly reasonable individual. There’s also lots of casual queerness abound, which is always a plus.

Another thing I love in space opera is a good motley crew, and You Sexy Thing had a stellar one! Rambo’s choice (apparently a challenge from fellow sci-fi author Ann Leckie, if the epigraph is anything to go by) to have You Sexy Thing in an omniscient, third-person POV was a great solution for covering the thoughts of all of the characters, discarding the need for separate chapters for everyone. All of them had distinct and lovable (mostly) personalities that made them butt heads with some characters and mesh with others, while still retaining a sense of familial bonding. Even outside of the restaurant setting, they retained a hilarious rapport that was a joy to read. Dabry’s musings on cooking were a delight, Atlanta’s trouble fitting in with the crew made for some lovely interactions, and Niko’s continuous struggles to face her past made for some of the novel’s most emotional points. You Sexy Thing balanced levity with emotional weight to great effect, and had a fantastic cast of characters to split the difference.

Amidst all of the humor, You Sexy Thing explores some quite complex, nuanced emotion, which I appreciated. I don’t think Rambo fully explored the implications of everything that had been done to Petalia, and how returning to Niko’s company affected them, but what we got was appropriately complicated, messy, and painful to read—exactly how it should have been, given the circumstances. This story never strays away from the cross-cultural complications of relationships, grief, and more, which added to how fleshed-out and unique all of the characters felt. By the end, all of the betrayals were appropriately punches to the gut, but ones that were cushioned by the found family dynamic that had been built up by the end.

Like the characters, the worldbuilding was an absolute treat! I will say, some of it was rather scattershot—we frequently get references to alien species and places that don’t even show up after they’re mentioned, but since this is a trilogy, I might be able to get past that, assuming that they come up later. I’m mostly accepting it, knowing that a) this is a huge galaxy, and b) that the world will presumably be expanded upon. It only really peeved me when they failed to explain much about what said alien races looked like. Other than that, Rambo’s worldbuilding was fascinating to pick apart! Sometimes, individual concepts are more interesting than the whole, and that aspect was made manifest by many of Rambo’s concepts, from married couples (or friends) being able to meld into a single being to the biotechnology that made You Sexy Thing (the sentient ship) possible. Through it all, I got the sense that Rambo’s galaxy was a distinctly lived-in one, which made my reading experience all the better.

My only real complaint, if any, was Tubal Last. You Sexy Thing had moments of being purposely cheesy, from the in-your-face ’70s music references to the on-the-nose character names; the latter felt like a nice, tongue-in-cheek reference to some of the characteristics of older sci-fi. That quality extended to the villain, who was cartoonishly evil. I don’t necessarily mind a comically evil villain every now and then, but in contrast to the complexity and nuance of many of the characters, Tubal Last felt out of place, just another obstacle (a formidable one, but a very one-note one) for the crew to overcome. He was over-the-top, but not in a way that necessarily served the story, other than some slightly unique motivations.

Overall, You Sexy Thing was a blast from start to finish, with a lively, energetic galaxy and a cast of lovable characters and daring hijinks to fill it with. 4.5 stars!

You Sexy Thing is the first book in Cat Rambo’s Disco Space Opera series, followed by Devil’s Gun and Rumor Has It. They are also the author of Neither Here Nor There, the Tabat Quartet (Beasts of Tabat, Hearts of Tabat, and Exiles of Tabat), And the Last Trump Shall Sound (with Harry Turtledove and James Morrow), and many other full-length works and short stories. Rambo is also the former president of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).

Today’s song:

it’s taken me this long to finally listen to Jimmy’s Show all the way through…preparing for Jimmy’s Show 2? either way, it’s an absolute delight.

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 4/6/25

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.

This week: I wish I’d gotten this unintentionally all-women lineup (or, all frontwomen, at least) for March, but every month is Women’s Month! (Especially now…reach out to your representatives about the SAVE Act, for the love of god. Protect your right to vote!) Also, the broad spectrum of romance: rollerskating past a cute person’s window on one end, and beating up creepy guys in the club on the other. Duality of woman.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 4/6/25

“Brand New Key” – Melanie

Somebody needs to start a hypothetical support group for carefree, childhood-inspired songs that get slapped with distinctly “adult” interpretations (see: “Lookin’ Out My Back Door,” a delightful song about imagination that everybody chalks up to LSD). Yeah, yeah, you can’t control how your work will be interpreted, but for the love of god, EVERYTHING ROD-SHAPED ISN’T AN INNUENDO. Quit summoning Freud with an ouija board…why can’t we as a culture let go of darkening everything inspired by childhood? Everybody just seems content to label anything childish as naïve, whack it with a frying pan, and justify its essence by saying that there’s a “mature” meaning behind it…can you not digest a little unadulterated happiness without your edgelord pills?

Anyways. As Melanie tells it, the song was inspired by eating McDonald’s after an extensive fast: “no sooner after I finished that last bite of my burger …that song was in my head. The aroma brought back memories of roller skating and learning to ride a bike and the vision of my dad holding the back fender of the tire.” It’s such a weightless song—from the minute the opening riff kicks in, it never walks—it skips between jump-ropes. “Brand New Key” is just so charmingly joyous to me. Melanie boldly announces herself with a smile that never fades as the song retains a timeless bounce that makes every step into a little shimmy, every turn of the shoulders into a carefree sway. Yet even with the folksy instrumentals, the kind that should give this song a one-way ticket into Wes Anderson’s next movie, it’s Melanie’s voice that makes “Brand New Key.” She takes on the persistence of the song’s narrator with a self-assured confidence—she can roller-skate anywhere she pleases, and she’ll do it with gusto. The way she crows the iconic line in the second verse—”For someone who can’t drive, I’ve been all around the world/Some people say I’ve done alright for a girl”—can’t inspire any emotion other than pure, fist-pumping joy. “Brand New Key” isn’t exactly some sort of revolutionary work of feminism (and that might be as much of a stretch as the innuendo), but I can’t help but think of Melanie’s boldness and relentless devotion to her creative vision, so soon after she’d performed at Woodstock at the age of 22 and begun to make a name for herself as an artist. “Brand New Key” has gone down in history more as a novelty song than anything, but it’s stuck for a reason—I can’t help but bob up and down with joy with every successive play.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Heartbreak Bakery – A.R. Capetta – The romance isn’t a one-to-one match, obviously, but the carefree spirit of young love (and bicycle-riding) remains the same.

“Most Wanted Man” – Lucy Dacus

Now that the dust has settled and I’ve listened more to Forever is a Feeling, it’s still a good album, but not the good I can usually expect from Lucy Dacus. After my first listen, I came away with the thought that the singles were better than the album as a whole, but also that she’d almost sold out, that dreaded stage in an artist’s career. It’s not like she wasn’t indie-popular before, but now she’s on the verge of popular popular, dueting with Hozier popular. I don’t believe Dacus, with her penchant for turns of phrase too clever to fully fit any kind of mold, will ever go fully mainstream. But with the relatively toned-down spirit of Forever is a Feeling, I can’t help but think that it was the doing of a major label that made some of these songs…almost tame. Even though the same amount of emotional explosion remains under the surface, for half of the songs, it almost feels curtailed. She’s never allowed an impassioned belt or more than a small guitar solo at the end of a song. I’m not saying that she was, y’know, absolutely screamo or anything, but she knew how to give even the smallest moments the weight of the world. This album should’ve been the perfect opportunity, given that it’s crafted from heartfelt vignettes of falling in love with Julien Baker (SO HAPPY FOR THEM!!! my boys…I wish them all the best!! 🥹). Maybe it’s just personal. It’s always weird to see indie artists get popular. Who knows.

That being said, it’s not like Forever is a Feeling was a bad album by any stretch. Lyrics? Always top-notch. And when it was able to delve into the deepest well of emotion (see: “Lost Time”), it got plenty of moments of true, misty-eyed beauty and affection. “Most Wanted Man” was one of the immediate standouts, and not just because of the tempo. With it’s upbeat, guitar-driven sway, Dacus constructs a tattered, energetic scrapbook styled like a blurry-viewed movie montage of moments with Julien Baker: “Tied in a double knot/Just like our legs all double knotted/In the morning at the Ritz/$700 dollar room, still drinking coffee from the Keurig/We’re soaking up the luxuries on someone else’s dime.” Dacus called it the song on the album that’s most overtly about her relationship with Baker, and it’s full of unbridled joy for what they’ve had, but also for the adventures they’ve yet to have together, repeating a starry-eyed refrain of “I’ll have time to write the book on you.” Besides the healing reference to “Everybody Does” (“Gripping my inner thigh/Like if you don’t, I’m gonna run”…right in the 2020 Madeline) and Baker herself contributing harmonies, it’s a song brimming with hope, of seizing the moment, and yet holding the excitement of spending your life with someone in your heart. Major label or no, they can’t stop Lucy Dacus from penning the most heartfelt songs about relationships, be they romantic or platonic.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Falling in Love Montage – Ciara Smyth – A similarly energetic and tender (and sapphic!) story of love and adventuring.

“Overrated Species Anyhow” – Deerhoof

I know an album intro when I see one…and I heard this single before Deerhoof announced their new album, Noble and Godlike in Ruin. It’s short, anthemic, it feels like a nice thesis…and it’s a good thesis to boot: “Love to all my aliens/Lost, despised, or feared/You are why I wrote these passages.” I feel like that scene in Into the Spiderverse at Peter Parker’s funeral where one of many strangers in a Spider-Man masks tells Miles Morales that “he’s probably not talking about you,” but I will gladly be accepted as one of said aliens. Hey, “Future Teenage Cave Artists” got me through a pretty nasty bout of anxiety, and I cherish it to this day.

Thus far, some of the album seems to be about frontwoman Satomi Matsuzaki’s experience as an immigrant in America alongside all of the hateful rhetoric that is (and has always been) multiplying; Admittedly, I balked at the use of the word “savages” in the way that it’s used here, but I can see it as being a reclamation of a term that has been historically lobbed against immigrants. (Still not ideal, but I can at least see the justification of it.) “Overrated Species Anyhow” feels almost choir-like, meant to be sung as a kind of incantation of sanctuary; amidst the chaotic melding of birdsong, “Via Chicago”-like drumming, and a cascade of rippling instrumentals, the track serves as both an outstretched hand to the othered and an opening of the album’s curtain. I don’t think I’m dedicated enough of a fan to go into Noble and Godlike in Ruin, but this offering is a lovely, delightfully weird one, as Deerhoof always is.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

A People’s Future of the United States – edited by Victor LaValle (anthology) – at times, frightening (and sometimes too feasible) visions of the future, but all containing stories of marginalized resistance.

“catch these fists” – Wet Leg

Wet Leg’s self-titled 2022 debut isn’t a particular favorite of mine, but it marked its place right when I graduated high school—it was full of droll, commandingly danceable anthems for that short time in my life. Yet even then, I got the sense that their songs were on the repetitive side. They’re a bit like Weezer, in a way—they have maybe two or three songs, but all of them are great. They know what they’re good at. Now that Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers have announced their next album, moisturizer (are all of their albums going to be synonyms for “wet?” damp, coming in 2028!), it seems as though they’re trodding on the same path. Here’s the thing: it’s a good path. I feel like it’d be too harsh to call them one trick ponies, because they’ve got at least two or three, but those tricks? They’re infectious, catchy, and begging to be played over and over. “catch these fists” may be covering the same ground they’ve covered for three years (unsatisfying romance, drugs, clubbing, shitty men), but they inject it with energy that would make anyone want to get up and have some fisticuffs. The disaffected, rhythmic way that Teasdale intones the lines of “Can you catch a medicine ball?/Can you catch yourself when you fall?” provide a slinking hook for a song with a killer right hook that never loses its potency.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Into the Crooked Place – Alexandra Christo – an action-packed match for the high energy (and fist-fighting) in this song.

“Rise and Shine” – The Cardigans

Whew, we’ve got another whiplash transition here…not necessarily from the tempo, but without a doubt, the lyrics. I guess if we’re going linearly, we’re healing? You gotta beat scummy men hitting on you to a pulp sometimes, but then you’ve got to go reconnect with nature and regain your faith in humanity the next morning. Healing! We’re circling back to Melanie’s unfettered happiness in no time.

Leave it to The Cardigans to bring that pure levity. “Rise & Shine” was the first song that they recorded with Nina Persson as the lead vocalist, which…the fact that they considered anyone else but her is astounding, given how enduring and clear her voice has proven to be, but it seems that it’s the reason they began their upward descent to fame. It later came on their debut album, Emmerdale, and the track feels as free as the album cover’s dog bounding through a field of grass. With its jangly guitars and tambourine percussion, there’s an inherent scent of summer that they’ve bottled inside every note as Persson sings of reconnecting with nature: “I want to be alone for a while/I want to Earth to breath to me/I want the ways to grow loud/I want the sun to bleed down.” Despite the angst aplenty that they’d later become masters at (see: “Step On Me”), this kind of upbeat, optimistic spirit became an undercurrent of their music that keeps me returning time after time. Even when Nina Persson’s in abject misery, they at least make you want to dance, right?

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Teller of Small Fortunes – Julie Leong – “I want to be alone for a while/I want earth to breathe to me/I want the waves to grow loud/I want the sun to bleed down…”

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (4/1/25) – Sunrise on the Reaping (The Hunger Games, #0.5)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Now, for a book I absolutely LOATHED…

…gotcha. Get Fool’d. 🫵

Here we are in April, and I’ve turned a hard left from reviewing cozy (to varying degrees) fantasy for two weeks straight to one of the most brutal novels I’ve read all year. Ladies, gentlemen, and others: Suzanne Collins. Sunrise on the Reaping did exactly what it was supposed to: it pulled no punches, and yet it also had a message that’s critical to how we move through these times.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Sunrise on the Reaping (The Hunger Games. #0.5) – Suzanne Collins

Haymitch Abernathy knows his fate is sealed the minute he’s reaped for the 50th Hunger Games, the second Quarter Quell where twice as many tributes are chosen to pay the price for losing a bygone rebellion. All Haymitch ever wanted was a quiet life, tucked away in District 12 with his family and Lenore Dove, the girl he loves. As he’s carted off to the Capitol, he knows that he has the chance to end the cruelty that the Capitol has gotten away with for decades. With a handful of unlikely allies, Haymitch plans to end the Hunger Games once and for all. But has he estimated just how far the Capitol will go to secure its grip on Panem—or have they underestimated his tenacity?

TW/CW: graphic violence/blood, murder, gore, descriptions of injury, poisoning, animal attack/death, loss of loved ones, death of children, fire

WARNING: this review contains some spoilers! If you haven’t yet read Sunrise on the Reaping, tread lightly.

Sunrise on the Reaping was precisely as brutal as it should have been. Suzanne Collins did not hold back. I had to sit in silence after finishing it…the only shred of levity I could find was remembering that Philip Seymour Hoffman played Plutarch Heavensbee in the movies and imagining his character from The Big Lebowski in his place. [uncomfortable laughter] “That’s marvelous…”

24 years before The Hunger Games, the Capitol that we were introduced to rules with a similarly iron fist. One of the most chilling aspects of Sunrise on the Reaping was how Collins showed even more of the sinister inner workings of what the Capitol was doing to keep the Districts in line. The manipulation of both Louella and her brainwashed body double was one of the most chilling—I knew both of them were doomed from the start, and it made the reach of the Capitol all the more frightening. But perhaps the most horrifying was the Capitol reaping Beetee’s barely teenage son as punishment. What stands out about Collins’ worldbuilding is how much she focuses on the human cost; aside from the obvious, she’s adept at showing the lack of regard the Capitol has for marginalized lives, and that dehumanization forms the core of what makes the Capitol so oppressive: profiting and dealing in death.

In particular, I loved how Suzanne Collins portrayed a middle-aged President Snow. He’s as chilling as he is in the original trilogy—ruthless, heartless, but above all, laser-focused on having everything under his control, whether it’s the citizens of the Capitol or the many tributes stepping out of line. His brief interaction with Haymitch revealed so much about his character. Sure, the whole reference to the “Snow lands on top” motto from The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes did feel like Collins blatantly going wink-wink, nudge-nudge, you can clap now to the reader, but the rest of his character revealed just how far he’ll go to dictate the entirety of his environment. It was honestly so funny how incel-y he was in regards to projecting all of his relationship woes from 40 years ago onto Haymitch’s girlfriend (all while he’s recovering from being poisoned, gotta admire the dedication), but it just goes to show that even in his weakest moments, Snow will always rue the things that slipped through his fingers—and do anything in his power to prevent it from happening again.

This aspect is something that’s fairly present in the first two Hunger Games novels, but I like that the Hunger Games themselves never take up much of the book. Collins knows that if she were to make every book solely about the Hunger Games, they would be feeding into the very same spectacle that she’s commenting on. It’s never about the spectacle—it’s the senseless brutality becoming the spectacle. (Also, it all comes back to the people in the fandom who go “now I want to see every single Hunger Games” and don’t realize…) In the case of Sunrise on the Reaping, it gives the effect of how quickly Haymitch has to process everything (and the fact that he can’t process it), but also that the pressure is constricting him more than it ever has, which heightens so much of the emotion. The main draw of the book, for many people, becomes not the focal point, but the point where Haymitch is put to the test—not the entire plot.

That’s not to say that Sunrise on the Reaping was flawless. As much sympathy as I had for Haymitch, his narrative voice got on my nerves for the first half of the novel. Collins played up that sort of overly earnest, country bumpkin style of speaking, making him more of a caricature than a person for a good third of the novel. I supposed it functioned more to show how easily innocence and ignorance can be destroyed in the face of revelations about how the world works, but it didn’t work for me because Haymitch knew about the cruelty of the Capitol firsthand. On principle, it was a shaky way to build his character. He almost seemed too good, even though he was so willing to break the rules and spit in the face of the Capitol. Again, the contrast between him both post-Quarter Quell and his older self is appropriately drastic, but I think I could’ve done without the setup. Plus, it just got so annoying hearing call everyone “sweetheart” and give candy to smiling children constantly. We get it…salt of the earth, etc., etc. I just couldn’t believe that Haymitch was truly pure. Collins never shied away from Katniss not being as such—why not Haymitch?

I already knew how Sunrise on the Reaping was going to end. I’d remembered the few details that Collins had alluded to and had gotten transferred to a fan wiki. It’s a given going into a Hunger Games novel that you operate on the prospect that everyone’s doomed. It would have been so easy for Collins to let that speak for itself, to not put any effort in and rely solely on the inevitability that the fans were going to be devastated anyway. But Collins, as always, gives such a depth to every character, making every slight the Capitol makes that much crueler. You know that Haymitch’s life is upended after he wins the Hunger Games, but Collins gave him a drive, a life, and stakes beyond what we see in the original trilogy, that makes his losses so much more painful. One of Suzanne Collins’ best qualities as a writer is that she toes the line between giving characters unexpected nuance and sympathy, but never outright excusing their actions. She’s a cartographer of personality, however rocky.

I saw the message of Sunrise on the Reaping coming a mile away, and to be honest, I didn’t even care. I knew how Haymitch’s games ended. From the moment he started plotting to destroy the arena and end the Hunger Games for good, I knew his mission would end in failure. But as with every successive Hunger Games novel that Collins writes, there’s a critical message to be found, and this one rings true in these times more than ever. We know that Haymitch fails, but because the rest of the trilogy exists, we know that his dream takes flight—just not when he wanted it to. Resistance and rebellion, even when they fail at first, are always worth fighting for, no matter how difficult the path towards peace is. No matter how much Haymitch failed, he was critical in exposing the cracks in the Capitol’s system—and he helped bring it down in the end, even though he failed in his first try. No matter how long it takes, resistance is always worth it, even if you don’t get to see its immediate effects.

Overall, a raw, brutal, and deeply emotional installation in the Hunger Games universe. 4.25 stars!

Sunrise on the Reaping is one of two prequels set in the Hunger Games universe, preceded by The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. The main trilogy is comprised of The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay. Collins is also the author of many other books for children, including the Underland Chronicles, Year of the Jungle, and When Charlie McButton Lost Power.

Today’s song:

Forever is a Feeling was a slight disappointment, to be honest, but this song ROCKS

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!