I love a song that just envelops me. “Anemone” is one of those tracks were there’s nothing in the lyrics remotely related to anemones (or even the sea), but it just happens to be the right title, just from the feel of it. The production and instrumentation sound like the lazy swirl of a temperate ocean around you, like footage of Planet Earth with a shot panning over gentle waves making anemones’ tentacles wave in the wind like branches on a tree. “You should be picking me up/Instead you’re dragging me down,” in that frame of mind, feels like being pulled under by a rogue wave and surrendering to the current.
Anton Newcombe’s voice feels like a backup instrument and not the lead vocal, somehow just as ethereal and misty as the faintly distorted rhythm guitar. That’s probably because the lead guitar, also played by Newcombe, is so distinct that it feels more like the voice of the song. From the beginning, it makes intricate loops and twists, like an animation of yarn curling in on itself—or the tendrils of an anemone slowly reaching out to you. It starts off almost uneasy, as if trying not to intrude on the melody, but once it expands, it takes the song from dewy cobwebs to a fully-defined spiderweb of dreamlike sound.
The other day, a good friend of mine (and one of the only people I know who’s just as obsessed with David Bowie as me, which is really saying something) and I were volleying back and forth about David Bowie covers. I wish I were as open-minded like them, but I think I was just burned by the aftermath of Bowie’s death when every single radio station decided that it was the right time to play nothing but the shittiest Bowie covers known to man. You can’t blame me for being a little suspicious at first. If you have that seismic of an impact on music, you’re bound to spawn a ton of bad covers. Plenty of good ones too, though! (For your perusal, and also the ones I sent said friend: Warpaint’s cover of “Ashes to Ashes,”TV on the Radio’s cover of “Heroes,”Lisa Hannigan’s cover of “Oh! You Pretty Things,” and Karen O and Willie Nelson’s cover of “Under Pressure.”)
But when they said that Eurhythmics had done a cover of “Fame” back in the early ’80s, I knew it was going to be good. (So thank you, said friend!) After all, Annie Lennox did take up the mantle of resident British, orange-haired, androgynous pop star from Bowie after Ziggy Stardust had been put to bed. I knew she was going to be cooking something. Bold, daring covers are few and far between, but if anyone can do it, it’s Eurhythmics. Lennox and Stewart transmuted Bowie’s plastic soul into a wholly different sound. It’s slicker than chrome, and so, so ’80s in the best way. Sped up and dominated by synths that sound like liquid mercury, Lennox’s vocal take on “Fame” turns the meditation into a song that feels like it belongs in a movie montage, walking through a crowded ballroom full of shallow, Hollywood types. Her mocking laugh echoes through the repetition of “Fame” in the chorus, hammering down Bowie’s original message of fame and the mercurial music industry wringing creative talents dry.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
The Monstrous Misses Mai – Van Hoang – “Fame (fame)/What you like is in the limo/Fame (fame) what you get is no tomorrow/Fame (fame) what you need, you have to borrow…”
Dammit…I almost slipped into my usual “I need to set aside 3 hours to listen to 69 Love Songs in its entirety” intro for yet another song from 69 Love Songs. 3 hours? In this economy? With my Instagram-rotted goldfish attention span? Kidding, kidding…only partly. I need to shut up and just listen to the album.
In the meantime, I seem to have gathered a stash of assorted songs from 69 Love Songs like a squirrel gathering acorns for the winter and hiding them in the most random places. Yet I do not have the uncanny acorn memory of a squirrel, so I’m fully surprised every time the Magnetic Fields Instagram account soundtracks one of their posts from the 69 Love Songs 25th Anniversary Tour with one of these songs. “The Sun Goes Down and the World Goes Dancing” was a recent favorite from the start. I fully mean this as a compliment, but there’s something about the production that makes the song sound like it’s been played on toy instruments. You can’t tell me that those clacks in the background aren’t plastic. Given the absolute laundry list of instruments listed under Stephin Merrit’s name on the Wikipedia page for 69 Love Songs, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to have thrown some in for fun. Another fun fact: Daniel Handler, a.k.a. Lemony Snicket (yes, that Lemony Snicket) played several instruments on the album and arranged “Asleep and Dreaming.” I feel like it’d take an archaeologist to deconstruct the sheer amount of lore that this album has.
And yet that toylike quality makes the rusty charm of this song, from the thin mandolin strums and the hollow, clinking percussion. It’s uncharacteristically devoid of the usual lovelorn frustrations that Merritt usually displays—it’s nothing but breathless, dizzy joy. “The Sun Goes Down and the World Goes Dancing” is a snapshot in motion of rapidly twirling lovers careening across a dim dancefloor, relishing in the warm glow of the lights. It’s the faint smell of the night air as you squeeze someone’s clammy hand, a leap of faith into someone else’s arms. The beat seems to all but gallop like a trained pony with a collar adorned with jingle bells, brushed to perfection but nothing but happy about it.
Aided by David Arnold, who composed the film’s score, and Jah Wobble (of Public Image Ltd) contributing the (gloriously slick) bass, “Play Dead” reminds me, at best, of what I like so much about trip-hop. It’s so seductive and slick, and even with the lyrics aching with numbness, it’s so brimming with life. Sure, that’s in no small part due to the cinematic orchestral swells that punctuate the background, but Björk’s voice makes it from a song into a true performance on every listen—even the most melancholy lyrics from her are blood vessels full of life. Nothing could ever suck the energy out of her performances, much less this one.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Red City – Marie Lu – “I belong to here where/No one cares, and no one loves/No light, no air to live in/A place called hate/The city of fear…”
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 iskinder.
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!
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…)
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!
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has been treating you well.
Before I begin, here are the graphics for the past two weeks. I was soexcited to write about Hounds of Love, because…well, it’s Hounds of Love, oh my god, self-explanatory, but alas…we all know what happened. Not ideal conditions to write under. Rest assured, it will come back eventually. You can hold me to that. Either way, more music:
“The Drum” is the first video in this setlist, so there’s no need for a timestamp. Watch at your leisure!
That frame at 1:25 sums up my 8th grade experience more than any words can: Will Toledo with the blurry image of St. Vincent’s self-titled album in the background.
Ah, this one’s a throwback. I remember watching this tiny desk concert in my parents’ bedroom with my mom, who always indulged my adolescent squealing about Will Toledo with the bafflement that “he looks like he’s in high school.” I didn’t fully realize it back then, not even being in high school myself, but…no offense, Will, I love you, but the amount of voice cracks throughout (“he don’t have shIiIiIiiiIIIT”) would make me think that he was 14 or 15 here, and not 23, weirdly. This whole Tiny Desk is a work of art in the art it produces in spite of the awkwardness about. Band? Sorta. Ethan Ives and Andrew Katz are there (it’s so far back that Seth Dalby hasn’t even shown up yet!), but Andrew’s the only one with his instruments beside Toledo. And you’d think the other two guys to the left of Toledo are part of the band, right? They’re just emotional support, which, to be fair, I’d love to have during one of those shows, but it gives the effect of a bunch of guys watching their friend play guitar in senior hall. In an endearing way, honestly. It’ll always be endearing to me. It’s Car Seat Headrest, after all. Nothing but love for our nervous young man.
“The Drum” was one of the earlier tracks that was constantly in my orbit during the peak of my Car Seat Headrest heyday in my early teens. Teens of Style was Car Seat Headrest’s full album as a band (still a three-piece by that point) and the first to be signed to a label, but it retains that lo-fi sound that characterized what gave Car Seat Headrest its name in the first place: being recorded by a deeply self-conscious Toledo in his car. It’s composed mostly of songs recycled and refurbished from his early days self-recording (“The Drum” originally appeared on My Back Is Killing Me Baby), and all of them get a kind of self-deprecating grandeur. Though the lyrics have been whittled away and refined, it’s the same old sad boy underneath, rest assured. “The Drum” doesn’t necessarily fall into that category, but it makes me realize…Will Toledo sure loves writing about drunk people, huh? He’s quite good at it, too, and he’d get even better after this song with “Vincent”: “It must be hard to speak in a foreign language/Intoxicado.” This track feels like the song version of that gag in Snatch where they cut back to clips of Frankie Four Fingers gambling and getting drunk out of his mind to the tune of “Viva Las Vegas.” It’s a hundred tiny vignettes of an off-the-walls character as he stumbles through a nonlinear, drunken reality: he’s reading James Joyce, he’s too high to listen to anyone (and even if he wasn’t, he still wouldn’t be listening), and he owes you $20. He’s a real piece of work, and Toledo is the faithful documentarian struggling to catch up with his antics. And somehow, the bridge gives the sense that said sloshed asshole, swimming in alcohol and ego, has elevated himself to think that he has transcended life itself: “This is our lifetime/And I am its creator/A young man slowly pulled apart/By separate poles of gravity.” This bridge came to Toledo in a dream (with the only difference being that “young man” was originally “snowman”), and it begins to close “The Drum” out as one stumbles through an inebriated dream.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
The Punch – Noah Hawley – drunk, dysfunctional people aplenty, all of which need to have their perfect and unparalleled opinions heard. Surely nothing will go wrong…
Another throwback, although this one didn’t factor in changing my 13-year-old brain chemistry nearly as much. That’s not a slight against it—my first memory of Goldfrapp was when I was about 11 or 12, and since then, she’s been a consistent, behind-the-scenes favorite. Between their work with Tricky and Spiritualized, I should’ve been hooked in the first place, but they’re so consistent in her sound, and not in a way that grows tired. Aside from some of the production, “Anymore” could just as easily been from one of their albums from the 2000’s. Their brand of futuristic-sounding synths sounds like something you’d hear from a club in Blade Runner, and not in a way that feels dated. It’s almost like Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory are just as precise as the machines that they manipulate to create their music; everything is oiled down until not a single wrinkle remains, and the result feels simultaneously far in the future and timeless…
Several months out from listening to Pompeii for the first time, I find myself returning to it time and time again. I’ll cling to any new weirdness I can find, and Cate Le Bon, at least for this album, delivers. Back in July, I talked about how the first four songs on the album are a cascade of absolute successes; “Moderation” is the second of the four, and although it’s much poppier than the eerie “Dirt on the Bed,” it nonetheless has her oddball twist. The instrumentals, from the so-bright-they-shine guitars to the backing saxophones, are very ’80s, but they’re tweaked enough that they don’t sound like hollow copies; the gated reverb on the drums is gently quieted, while the production, like the music video, feels like everything has been recorded straight from the mouth of a cave.
Something about the lyrics strike me as oddly coy—not in meaning, but more of how they start to reveal themselves as something that makes sense, so vague that they could be applied to anything, and then mischievously peek back behind the curtains and return with something truly bizarre. They’re somewhere in between the matter-of-fact but nonsensical utterances of both Brian Eno and Robyn Hitchcock, and even some of early St. Vincent’s artier ventures. “I get by pushing poets aside/’Cause they can’t beat the mother of pearl.” I love it, and somehow it makes sense, but do I have any clue what that means? Nope. It feels like it’s meant to be poetry more than anything, words strung together for aesthetic effect. The music video gives the distinct feel of a performance piece you’d see projected in a curtained-off corner of an art museum, but the colors of it are the perfect match “Moderation.” Against a backdrop of a brewing storm at sea, Le Bon is cloaked in black, with only her face, arms, or legs visible at any given time. Aside from her “Life On Mars”-blue eyeshadow, the only hints of color she reveals are lacy cuffs on her sleeves or bright colors on her tights. Those pops of color feel like the bursts of oddities throughout “Moderation,” so vibrant that they pop out like cartoon bubblegum.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Magonia – Maria Dahvana Headley – you think you’ve got a typical 2010’s YA fantasy book on your hands, and then it gets bonkers…delightfully so.
With every successive Radiohead EP I listen to, I’m baffled at not just the sheer amount of output they had, but how good a solid 90% of it is. The Bends sessions seem like some of the most fruitful of their entire career, what with three EPs and a series of smaller singles released in the periods directly before and after the album’s release. I’ve yet to listen to My Iron Lung – EP or the “Fake Plastic Trees” single, but from what I can tell, they were just constantly cooking. They had to be forcibly removed from the kitchen because the cooking was just TOO GOOD. They just COULD NOT BE STOPPED.
In some ways, “Banana Co” feels like if “Karma Police” was released on The Bends; the term “sardonic wit” is overused these days, but it applies here for sure, as it does to quite a lot of Radiohead. Written about the corporate colonialism of the United Fruit company in various countries in Central and South America, Thom Yorke slathers his honeyed words in sarcasm with the repeated verse: “Oh, Banana Co/We really love you and need you.” Yorke has an almost sleepy register to his words, as though he’s being pulled under by the propaganda himself, before the guitars of Jonny Greenwood and Ed O’Brien coalesce in a controlled blast of everything that makes me miss listening to The Bends. Adding this one to the list of Bends-era songs that make me think “this is a B-SIDE?” (see also: “Maquiladora,”“My Iron Lung”). Luckily—at least for the fans who were alive to see this (cries in Gen Z)—”Banana Co” was a live staple pre-OK Computer, and Yorke has often addressed it towards other colonial problems of the day, including one in 1998 that was addressed to “the people of Indonesia, and the people who have money invested in that country.”
Wow, what a wonderful example of a band committed to calling out imperialism and violence around the world! Surely they would carry these values into this day and age…right? Right?
Uh…
Well. I’ll say that I am quite disappointed after hearing that Thom Yorke confronted a pro-Palestine protestor at one of his solo shows back in October; the protestor demanded that Yorke condemn the ongoing violence in Palestine, and he responded by calling the protestor a coward, then walking offstage. In Yorke’s defense, he has every right to withhold his political views (and also, I don’t think yelling at a celebrity at a concert is necessarily the best way to get people on your side, no matter how good the cause, nor is it going to solve any conflict), but there has to be a much more respectful way of dealing with this kind of thing. Calling this person a coward was not the right move, even if he did want to decline to speak. It’s just so odd and hypocritical to me that he would be a champion for human rights for so long, and then call somebody a coward for protesting the same human rights violations that he once sang about and condemned in the ’90s. Even if he doesn’t publicly condemn the thousands of needless deaths, I just hope that he realizes how hypocritical he sounds. What a shame, really. Again, no way that Thom Yorke’s reading this, but…maybe go listen to your old catalogue over again before you call people protesting the horrors of modern imperialism cowards. Just saying. Free Palestine.
We’re ending on a much lighter note, worry not. Frankie Cosmos is always reliable on that front (whether or not it’s preceded by one of my rants).
I finally caught up with this season of Heartstopper, and I’ve fully moved away from calling it any sort of comfort show, as I feel that would diminish the incredibly important (and tactfully delivered) depictions of eating disorders and mental illness. Nonetheless, it remains a wonderfully queer show, and it’s got plenty of sweet moments, often buttressed by light and bubbly indie pop. I’m only on brand with…a third of the songs that are picked (some of it’s a bit too pop for me), but I can always count on at least a handful of hits popping up—season 3 featured not one but two Arlo Parks songs (“Devotion” and “Pegasus”—Parks is just perfect for the Heartstopper atmosphere), Sufjan Stevens’ “That Was the Worst Christmas Ever!” (it sure was…Charlie cannot catch a break 😭), and, reliably, more Frankie Cosmos. Maybe, just maybe, Alice Oseman might be a fan? We can never really be sure…
Either way, Frankie Cosmos and Heartstopper are matches of media that are made for each other. “Duet” has some of the simplest of lyrics, but they’re delivered with the lovesick joy of doodling hearts in the corner of your notebook as a teenager. Packaged in bite-sized containers (I can’t think of a song of theirs that’s over 4 minutes), they really do feel like bubblegum—sweet, sometimes sickly so, and short-lived, but constructed from simplicity that produces, more often than not, a perfect pop song. Like both the comic’s and the show’s cartoon hearts and leaves that surround the characters, there’s a simple purity to them that’s been distilled to the core.
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
Don’t let the black color scheme full you—we’ve got a mostly joyful bunch, and if not joyful, at least upbeat. This week: what happened when I listened to Apple Music’s “Love” station on a whim, things that are wholly good and pure, and reflecting on the things that made middle school survivable.
The story of “After Hours” famously goes that Lou Reed wrote this song, but knew it was too pure and innocent for him to possibly sing, so he enlisted Mo Tucker, the Velvet Underground’s drummer, for the task. As much as I love Lou Reed, he did the world a great service by not singing this song—in his hands, there’s no doubt that it would’ve felt like some kind of melancholic “Perfect Day” prequel, but at least he was self-aware enough to realize it. And there’s nobody more fit to sing it than Tucker. Her voice is beautiful, but it’s the voice of someone who rarely sings, if at all, and sings softly when she does. But that’s exactly the kind of voice that “After Hours” calls for. It’s a bashful, rosy-cheeked song, the kind that shyly peers out from behind the curtain to watch the bustling city below. There’s an embarrassment to it, but not the kind that makes you wince—it’s a diary confession written as the last threads of light are fading from the sky, the last pure thoughts filtering out of your brain. It’s so simple, and yet that’s why it digs at such a unique place in my heart—it’s not quite universal, but it’s just the kind of special to nestle up against me like a drowsy cat. There’s practically no end to the influence that The Velvet Underground has had on rock music, but I feel like “After Hours” is overlooked in that aspect—without it, where would the glorious pantheon of wistful women and their acoustic guitars come from?
Bonus: because somewhere down the line we collectively recognized that this song is best performed by female drummers, here’s a performance by Meg White of the White Stripes:
All Born Screaming? Uh, yeah, I sure am. The squeal I let out at 7 A.M. when my mom shared this new single could probably be heard through my whole dorm. I’m just glad that my RA didn’t catch on. After a solid month of teasing, first with the ceremonial removal of the Daddy’s Home blonde wig, then with throwbacks to her performance of “Lithium” with the surviving members of Nirvana at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (to the people saying “oH, shE’s sO oFf-KeY” about this one: did you all just forget how Kurt Cobain sang, or what?) and her performance of “Krokodil” at Coachella in 2012, we finally have the St. Vincent rock album that we’ve always wanted. I’ve gone past the point of trying not to hype myself up for this one—somehow I feel like it’s not gonna be another MASSEDUCTION incident, because everything about this album— the aesthetic around it, and its collaborators (Dave Grohl on drums in this track, and Cate LeBon featuring on another)—feels like it’s going to rock. Annie Clark always seems to have a clever, cheeky album title up her sleeve, but All Born Screaming has to be one of the harder ones. And the album art…well, yeah. Let’s get the elephant out of the room—it’s great album art, but the timing was…not good, as it came just days after Aaron Bushnell self-immolated to call attention to the ongoing Palestinian genocide. (Rest in power. Chip in where you can.) But at the same time, there’s no way that Clark or her team could have predicted that kind of thing. I really don’t feel like she’s at fault here—it’s bad timing, sure, but none of us can be expected to foresee everything in the news.
Back to the song…I need to be stopped. Somebody needs to hold me back…or, at any rate, somebody should’ve held me back on the Thursday morning when “Broken Man” came out, because I listened to nothing but that song from approximately 7-11 A.M, and I had to go about three days before I could listen to it again. I’ve learned nothing. But now that I’ve ridden the initial high, I’m reveling in the new direction that St. Vincent has started to go towards with All Born Screaming. Most of the comparisons I’ve seen wind up somewhere in the neighborhood of Nine Inch Nails, P.J. Harvey, and Rage Against the Machine, and I can see all of those, especially with the former two—the industrial grind of Trent Reznor and the feral, growling vocals of P.J. Harvey are wound all over this track. Like the album art, it’s painted in the colors of ashes, still hot to the touch and rough between your fingertips. Clark has toed this line more often than not (see “Krokodil”), but we’ve gotten an album where she’s fully embraced her heavier side—one that she’s always had the capacity for, but somehow bottled up before throwing herself into All Born Screaming, the first album that she produced herself. It oscillates smoothly between hectic, metronome-ticking pop, uncomfortably sung from inside of a steel crate as she taunts the listener with her head peering out of the lid. It feels like a callback to the frenetic, pent-up energy of her self-titled record [slides Anthony Fantano glasses up the bridge of my nose], but with even more fury—every other lyric feels like a spit-laden taunt: “Who the hell do you think I am?/Like you’ve never seen a broken man?” With each verse that goes by, every word is spat with more intention, more vitriol, swerving between her silky, whisper-vocals to a full-on, sweat-drenched growl as the song closes. And this song’s breakdown is one of the most exciting of her songs in recent years; crashing in with Dave Grohl’s legendary drumming, you can’t describe this song with anything other than “fiery”: it’s a primal scream of a song, burning, biting fervor engulfed in flames. And I can’t help but get excited about the choreography in the music video—as flames dance across her neat, white button-up and slicked-back ponytail, her arms play a game of “the floor is lava” with her torso, jerkily twisting to avoid some point of contact. An eagle-eyed YouTube commenter compared it to her choreography for “Rattlesnake,” and…oh god, now I’m way too excited. Daddy’s Home is the best of her more recent work, if we’re going post-self-titled [slides glasses up even further] but…don’t do it. Don’t give me hope.
Hi. Gonna try and be calm about this one. As calm as I can be when I feel the raw, untamed power of my middle school Hellboy hyperfixation coursing through my veins. The deluxe edition of the Hellboy II soundtrack showing up on my Apple Music suggestions on an unsuspecting Sunday morning was certainly a kick in the pants that sent me hurtling back to 2017 at alarming speeds, and I have yet to reach terminal velocity.
I don’t know what prompted the release—last year would’ve been fine, given that Hellboy II turned 15 that July. Who knows. Just up and popped out of nowhere. But man, I am so glad that it did. Having this expanded edition just goes to show how many gaps were left out of the original soundtrack, even if many of them (including this song) are under a minute long. I’m convinced that there was some kind of rush in putting together the original soundtrack, since now we know that the random tidbits that didn’t seem to come from anywhere that were tacked onto the end of “Finale” were, in fact, two alternate versions of songs that were almost used in the troll market scene. Again: who knows how that happened. But now, the score feels as whole as ever—those short-and-sweet tidbits fill in the crucial gaps, the silly, almost jazzy flourishes to plump up some moments of witty banter (of which there are many), fleshed out a soundtrack that’s cemented itself in the nostalgia catalogue of my mind. “Red’s Ok,” in particular, is the wonderful variation on the tasteful electric guitar motif, shown just as we see Hellboy emerging from the wreckage of a car he’s just landed on top of, wielding the Good Samaritan in the film’s most honest-to-god movie poster moment. And we get the full, 7-minute long cut of “Where Fairies Dwell.” I was born in the right generation. Born too late to see the rockstars I like, born too early to explore space…but born just in time to be able to listen to “Fuck-Used”. Bless.
My good feelings towards Elfman himself have started to fade after the allegations that came out last year, and this doesn’t change that, but I can’t deny the talent that went into this soundtrack, as well as the countless others he’s crafted over the years. Admittedly, his work has become so entangled in my life that, even though I’m all for theoretically separating the art from the artist, the truth is often far more complicated than putting the allegations in one box and their art in the other. I don’t necessarily know if it’s a personal flaw that I can’t detach from people that easily (lord knows I haven’t been able to listen to Arcade Fire as often as I used to without feeling a little moral revulsion). It’s not like J.K. Rowling’s transphobia and other prejudices manifested out of thin air directly after she wrote Harry Potter. And yet, I’d be the world’s worst liar if I denied how dear this film is to me. 13-year-old me saw this and saw an image of found family, of freaks who banded together in a world that was bent on destroying them, of freaks showing affection and forgiveness towards the world and each other, and it stuck. It did something to me. It showed me a possibility of a future that I could live out. At least it’s just the soundtrack in this case, and not the film itself. That’s all safe. I don’t even want to entertain the notion of Guillermo del Toro having any metaphorical skeletons in his closet, because given what the guy’s house looks like, he definitely has some plastic ones lying around. But it seems like he’s the type to keep it to that.
So I’ll be excited for the middle schooler in me. When this came out, I painted my nails and listened to this as they dried, remembering that there was a part of me back then that should be cherished—the one that didn’t care what anybody thought, and the one that watched this movie at least once a month.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Hellboy II: The Art of the Movie – Guillermo del Toro – yeah, this was the obvious pick, but what else was I gonna do? Put in the movie novelization? Imagine swapping out “Dr. Manning, suck my ectoplasmic schwanzstucker” for “Manning, you’re a jerk.” Unconscionable.
It’s been almost a month since TANGK was released, and I find myself drawn to it over and over again, simply because it’s so IDLES in a way that I haven’t seen from them. Like I said when I talked about “A Gospel” back when the album was released, it’s a beast that’s half old and half new, but brimming with the same ethos of kindness with a hard-edged sound. While “A Gospel” and “Grace” were the album’s pinnacles of vulnerability, “POP POP POP” just seems like the place where Nigel Godrich went nuts—it feels like IDLES trying to make a Radiohead song, but never once does it feel like a blatant imitation. It has an angular, jerky smoothness to it, with the combination of synths that buzz like a hive of insects with Joe Talbot’s voice—the lyrics aren’t screamed like he tends to do, but with a dry, disaffected drawl that signals irony, but knowing IDLES, it’s a sign of bare sincerity just as any other bellow he lets out. On the inside, the lyrics are similar to most of the material on this album—a shield of kindness against a wave of hatred: “Strong like bull/Vulnerable (vulnerable)/Keep my people up/That’s my tool.”
But there’s something resolute about the way that “POP POP POP” is delivered—it’s almost like he’s drawing not from a place of repeating himself, but convincing himself of his mission. I’ve seen a fair amount of people in internet music circles roll their eyes at IDLES for acting like their lyrics are more radical than they are, which…I halfway understand. A lot of their subject matter in their music isn’t exactly new in terms of political fodder to spin into music. But is there really anything new, political or otherwise, that you can write a song about? I find myself thinking of Audre Lorde and her essay “Poetry is Not a Luxury,” where she states that “…there are no new ideas. There are only new ways of making them felt, of examining what our ideas really mean on Sunday morning at 7 AM…[while] making war, giving birth.” I get why people are put off by IDLES seemingly acting like their ideas are new (I’ve never gotten that impression, but that’s just me), but personally, that was never what was radical about them—it’s their approach to kindness. It’s unclear whether this is the exact criticism that may have spawned “POP POP POP,” but the final verse, chanted like a prayer as the hive of synths descends into a buzzy, Kid-A maelstrom, feels like Talbot convincing himself of the message that he and the band have always pioneered: “Imposter, imposter, living in my head/Am I the spider in your bed?/A dead canary and a thief for a king/A cheerleader valiant/But I will sing about love, love…” And as his voice gets overlaid, the final chant that rings out is the tagline for the later track “Grace” and this album’s tour: “love is the fing.” It feels like reassurance in a sea of self-doubt, a reminder of a message to be held dear, a mission statement lost in the mist but found again when it came time to look back and remember why they created it in the first place. And as with the ending of this song, what persists is four essential words: “love is the fing.” You look back into all of the mess that your creativity has taken you, and what you find at the center is the love that motivated you to create in the first place.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Kindling – Traci Chee – I just reviewed this one, so it’s pretty fresh in my mind, but the last, more distorted lyrics made me think of these characters and their struggles to grow out of their trauma and persist—”Imposter, imposter, living in my head/Am I the spider in your bed?/A dead canary and a thief for a king/A cheerleader valiant/But I will sing about love, love…”
The other day, I decided to listen to Apple Music’s Love station on a whim—I was drawing before bed, and I wanted something new to listen to. It ended up having mostly hits, some misses (one of the hits was “After Hours,” but I’m honestly concerned about the fact that there was…an Elliott Smith song on there? Not the weirdest Apple Music pick, but I don’t know if that screams “love”…), but it was the reason that I stumbled upon this song, which I am so grateful for. Scratch that—I’m grateful, but more than anything, I’m more surprised than anything that I’d never heard of her before then, given the company that she kept: she was first discovered by James Brown, and later collaborated with everybody from The Rolling Stones to Pink Floyd (she contributed backing vocals to Dark Side of the Moon, my god…). With all that, a musical based on her life, and a number one hit, you’d think we would be hearing more about her, but alas, nope. Whether or not that’s just another testament to how history treats Black women or the fact that she stepped away from the mainstream music industry after the ’70s is up in the air, but either way, I’m glad the Love station brought me to her.
I’ve always had a soft spot for that late ’50s-early ’60s soul. As much as I laud other artists for having intricately crafted lyrics, sometimes, it’s simplicity that wins out—and that was exactly what labels like Motown were the best at producing. Artists like The Temptations, the Ronettes, and others feel like they’ve distilled love—one of the most complex human emotions—down to its barest essentials. Every song becomes something so tender and universal that it feels like a warm blanket for the soul. Along with the rich vocals that often came with it, and you’ve got one of my favorite musical soft spots—I’ll take shreddy guitars any day, but sometimes, all I need is some wholesome love. That’s exactly how “Just One Look” feels—brimming with warmth, and the perfect tempo for slow-dancing in the kitchen. Only seconds into the song, and you can hear exactly why Troy’s fans gave her the nickname “Mama Soul”—soulful is the only adequate word to describe her rich, soaring voice. Combined with the air light touch on the piano keys, and I’ve got another comfort song in my collection—there’s something to be said for simplicity.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
DC: The New Frontier, vol. 1 – Darwyn Cooke – the lyrics for this song are so universal that they could cover any kind of romance, so instead, I went for the time period; the late ’50s-early ’60s setting of The New Frontier is settled right in the same era.
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!
We’ve come around again to Bisexual Visibility Week,which lasts from September 16 – September 23rd! September 23rd is also recognized as Bisexual Visibility Day. And to celebrate, I’ve rounded up another batch of some of my favorite bisexual books that I’ve read in the past few years. Even though I’ve been out as bisexual for nearly five years, seeing myself represented in that aspect of my identity never ceases to warm my heart. I’t’s hard to match the feeling of being seen, really seen, like some of these books have made me feel. But like my last post about Latinx Heritage Month, I wasn’t able to compile a list last year since I was still settling into college. So I prepared a post in advance so I can share my favorite bisexual books that I’ve read since my last post. (And although I’m trying to add more age ranges to these posts, almost all of the ones I wanted to highlight ended up being YA books, so here you are.) Enjoy!
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and if so, what did you think of them? What are your favorite bisexual books? Let me know in the comments!
Today’s song:
loving this album
That’s it for this year’s bisexual visibility week recs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
I just finished my first week back to school, but after this, chances are I’ll be somewhat radio silent until I can get fully settled into my routine. The only reason that this post is seeing the light of day is that I start working on my wrap-up posts about a week in advance, so here we are.
Let’s begin, shall we?
GENERAL THOUGHTS:
Summer’s officially over, but the weather sure doesn’t seem to think so. Hopefully I won’t have to endure much more of my (long) walk to class in this 90+ degree heat.
That aside, I’ve had a good August, for the most part. My initial “yay, I’m going back to college!” got partially replaced by “oh god, I’m going back to college” closer to move-in, but I’m feeling better now. (The fact that I’m in a much nicer dorm than I was last year certainly helps. It doesn’t constantly reek of weed in here! Huzzah!) I had the opportunity to soak up the last dregs of summer beforehand, at least. I finished up my summer job at the library, bought a catnip toy for my cat for his sweet 16, completed another trip around the sun, and blew part of my paycheck on books to celebrate said trip around the sun. Worth it.
My blogging’s been a tad slower since I’ve been trying to get everything together before I moved in, but I feel like I’ve still been able to be productive. I’ve enjoyed reviewing all of my books this month and putting together graphics and going off about music. And I got in one book tag that WordPress screwed up and I had to recreate from scratch, but it was fun in the end. Once my schedule figures itself out, I’ll get back on the writing train, but for now, I’m mapping out the best route to my class in That One Building on the other side of campus.
Other than that, I’ve just been drawing, watching Only Murders in the Building (for the love of god, can we just stop pairing Mabel with people who have zero chemistry with her 😭). Good Omens (pain, suffering, even), Heartstopper (Lucy Dacus and Wolf Alice paying in the same episode >>>>>>>), and Taskmaster (“you’ve got no chutzpah”), and reveling in the fact that my new dorm has air conditioning. It’s the (not so) small things.
READING AND BLOGGING:
I read 17 books this month! Other than the one stinker in the batch (sorry, The Surviving Sky), it’s been a great reading month in terms of quality and in terms of quantity. Expect some kind of mini-review post for all of the books I bought for my birthday and the books I got as gifts, because they’ve all been fantastic so far.
Here we are near the end of August, and I’ve got a color scheme adjacent to the aesthetic of my 10th birthday party. It may not be my favorite color anymore, but I still hold that pink is an underrated color. And it’s fitting, since my actual birthday is coming in a few days from now! August is apparently the most common birthday month, so I guess I’m not that special, but I love August simply because of that. Now that I’ve gotten to the point in my life where my birthday doesn’t land a week into the school year anymore, it’s a lot nicer. And it’s not on my first day of college either, like it was last year, so it’s a nice change this year. So let’s all settle down, eat some cake, and come to grips with the fact that we are all Kenough.
Here we are, a month removed from Barbenheimer, and this song remains stuck in my head. Everybody’s saying it, but it’s true: Barbie really is a masterpiece. It summed up modern womanhood more than any other film that I can think of. It’s whimsical, it’s clever, it’s incredibly funny, and for a movie populated by plastic dolls, it’s deeply human. My mom and I cried together so many times during the movie. Ah, womanhood. And anybody who says that this movie is “anti-man” is delusional—it’s just as empowering for men as it is for women. What’s “anti-man” about Ken realizing that his self-worth doesn’t have to hinge on romantic pursuit or material possessions?
If there’s anything that men—and anybody—can take away from this movie, it’s as the song says: “I’m just Ken, and I’m enough/And I’m great at doing stuff.” Look within. You are Kenough. What else is there to say about this song? Ryan Gosling stole the show. Feel the Kenergy.
And here’s today’s report on “why yes, I did blow through season 2 of Heartstopper last week, why do you ask?”
Tegan and Sara have been names that have been on the very edges of my radar for years; they’ve popped up alongside other artists that I listened to for years, and recently, the great Tillie Walden (!!!) illustrated a graphic memoir about their childhoods. But the snippets I heard of their music faded away—until last week, when this song was featured at the end of the second episode of season 2 of Heartstopper. (Both seasons always have a few gems on their soundtracks—Lucy Dacus and Wolf Alice in the same episode? We are truly blessed…) And as the backdrop to queer teen angst, “You Wouldn’t Like Me” meshes perfectly. It’s the perfect acoustic earworm, all at once gentle and soaring. The harmonies of twin sisters Tegan and Sara Quin intertwine as seamlessly as you would think twin sisters would, blending into each other and branching out once more with smooth, warm ease. As the two Quins sing of “…a war inside of me/Do I cause new heartbreak to write/A new broken song?” their voices command a gentle acoustic strumming—again, I can’t think of a more perfect fit for Heartstopper. Again, I’m very new to Tegan and Sara, but this version feels like a vast gulf from the original, which takes a far more pop-rock direction. (Still Jealous, where this version is from, is an acoustic reworking of their album So Jealous.) I like the guitars on the original, but…how are their voices so nasally and grating there? It just feels so forced compared to how gorgeous their voices—and their story—sounds on this version. Needless to say, I’m far more partial to this acoustic version.
I never expected that a TV Girl song would ever end up on one of these posts, but life is nothing if not full of surprises. I’ve felt fairly lukewarm about most of their music that I’ve been exposed to; songs like “Blue Hair” and “Lover’s Rock” seem to have been everywhere after experiencing TikTok fame in the past few years, but they never really caught my eye. They were catchy, but not something that I would find myself listening to regularly.
Enter this song. I forger where I heard it first, but either way, it hooked me like no other song of theirs ever has. It all feels so carefree in its composition, and all of the sampling and the way it’s cobbled together is clear proof that somebody’s been taking some pages out of the De La Soul/Beastie Boys book. “Taking What’s Not Yours” gives it a more indie pop spin. The samples are just delightfully goofy, but so clever at the same time. The main sample comes from, of all things, a rap included in the video “Don’t Copy That Floppy.” (“That’s thieving/stealing, taking what’s not yours!”) I doubt it can get a whole lot sillier than that. And as Brad Petering talks about all of the things that he’s taken and left at various girlfriends’ places (sorry, “various apartments and domiciles”) over the years, what should get sampled but Richard Nixon’s infamous declaration of “I am not a crook” as the chorus starts over? It all seems so random, but the way all of these wild samples are tied back to the narrative is undeniably clever. I’m still not the biggest fan of the blasé, nasally drone of Petering’s voice, but it almost works as he rambles on about leftovers, jewelry and records left in the wake of his relationships. Fitting that the album that “Taking What’s Not Yours” is on is called Who Really Cares—it certainly fits Petering’s laid-back affect.
Here’s a pandemic memory that, for once, isn’t painful to recall! Thanks, Naked Giants. Weird name, but I’ll take it.
Naked Giants’ great album The Shadow also came out right around my birthday—it turns three years old tomorrow, as it happens! I was originally introduced to them when they opened for and performed with Car Seat Headrest, but they’re just as fantastic performing with them as they are solo, even if their brands of indie rock are more than a little different. (some of it definitely rubbed off on “Hollywood,” but I digress.) The Shadow, with propulsive tracks like “(God Damn) What I Am” and “Take a Chance” soundtracked that late August heat and cloudless skies, endlessly hooky and head-noddable. I can’t think of a single bad track on that album, but a few inevitably got a bit lost in the dust, as is what generally tends to happen when I love an album, but love a handful of songs just that much more. But that just means that it feels that much more joyous when you rediscover something else from that album. That’s where “Unpeeled” comes in. Although it’s slower and more droning than the previous tracks that I mentioned, the power it holds is unmistakable; with its hints of punk, psychedelia, and pure, guitar-driven rock all rolled into one, there’s never a moment where “Unpeeled” loses its touch. Like a great machine, it puffs along in a smoky, delirious haze, a different brand of their usually jangly 60’s influences. Even the harmonies on the chorus (“it’s unpeeling again”) sound off-kilter enough to sound like it belongs on the trippier side of Yellow Submarine. But nothing brings me more joy than the grinding, 13-era Graham Coxon-esque guitar chords that chug in at the 2:21 mark, cutting through the veil of smoke. It’s a truly hypnotic song in every way I can think of.
Another exciting song coming out of Movie of the Week, and with a great music video to match! Made me think of…I think it was a National Geographic Kids article about what they actually do to food in commercials to make it look appetizing. You can see a lot of it in the video, but that article was where I learned that glue is used as a substitute for milk for cereal in commercials so that the bits of cereal stick to the surface. The more you know.
True to form, all of what we see in the music video perfectly reflects the ethos of the song. As we see a man painstakingly pinning blueberries to the top of a stack of pancakes and painting a bowl of strawberries with red nail polish, Alejandro Rose-Garcia laments on “why I’ve gotta be somebody’s enemy/to be big in the world?” Something so curated and manufactured, like those nail-polished strawberries, is what Shakey Graves—or, at any rate, the protagonist of his imaginary movie—is musing on: the nature of how the media rewards drama instead of sincerity, only boosting fame if there’s a sensational story to be churned from it. In short: you’re only appetizing if you’re covered in shiny, fake crap. And even though that message comes through loud and clear, the musical drama of this song is what really sells it. Rose-Garcia’s rasping howl comes in at full force in the chorus, ringing out through almost Beatles-esque pianos and an ever-shifting atmosphere that really does feel like the fuzzy light edges around the multitude of screens on the album cover. It’s a lot more smoothly produced than most other Shakey Graves songs that I can think of off the top of my head, but it fits the feel of the direction that Movie of the Week seems to be going; it was conceived as the soundtrack to an imaginary film, and “Big In The World” has that cinematic touch in spades.
Since today’s 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!
Already a month into 2023! I hope you’ve all been doing well and staying safe. I could do without how freezing it’s been, but it’s been
GENERAL THOUGHTS:
Happy new year! January is usually my least favorite month in general; now that all of the fun of the holidays are over, all of the snow just makes everything look all sad and sludgy. And it’s been a freezing January—as I’m writing this, it’s a balmy 3° outside. We had our first snow day of the year on the second day of school, even though we really didn’t get all that much snow. Not that I’m complaining. It would’ve suckedto walk in all that. Needless to say, I wore my pajamas all day that day.
Winter break lasted blissfully long, and I got to catch up with one of my best friends for coffee, which was wonderful. As far as college goes, I think I’m in for an easier semester—no math or science credits this semester, and it’s still all English/humanities classes. Again, another reason why I’m enjoying this part of college—I’m taking another class where the reading is all comics, a Science Fiction class, and a class on LGBT studies (specifically focusing on Black/African diaspora)! I’m enjoying all of them so far.
I’ve had a fairly decent reading month, I’d say; break gave me some much-needed time to read after finals, and a family friend very generously gave some of his comics to me, so I’ve been slowly making my way through those as well. My reading’s slowed down a tad bit just from getting back into the rhythm of school, but it’s a lot better than the first semester in terms of how much I’m reading. Not complaining that I’m re-reading Slaughterhouse-Five for my intro to fiction class.
Other than that, I’ve just been drawing, playing guitar, trying to write a bit more (gonna need to for class, anyway…), blowing through all three seasons of Derry Girls (we love Clare in this house), and doing my best to stay warm. Fingers crossed that February will be more merciful on the weather front.
Also, you can’t really tell because I’m wearing a beanie in the new pfp, but I shaved my head on New Year’s Eve. Feels lovely, gotta say.
READING AND BLOGGING:
I read 21 books this month! I had a few brief slumps, but overall, I’d say it was a fairly even mix this month; I’ve already had a DNF, but I had two 4.5 star reads as well, so I think that cancels out.
this has been on repeat in my library for eternity
a find from The Heartstopper Yearbook
if I had a nickel for every Gorillaz song that I haven’t been able to stop listening to this month, I’d have two nickels. which isn’t that much, but it’s weird that it happened twice.
a perfect, wintry album for January
NEW BOYGENIUS ALBUM NEW BOYGENIUS ALBUM THIS IS NOT A DRILL Y’ALL
and as if on cue, I’m on a huge Super Furry Animals kick again
Today’s song:
fantastic album!! just finished listening yesterday
That’s it for this month in blogging! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Sorry for the unexplained absence, by the way. Finals just kinda crept up on me there, and I was in a reading slump for quite a while, so I’m not sure if I would’ve had much to post in the first place. But I’m done now! I’m out! FINISHED MY FIRST SEMESTER OF COLLEGE!!
Anyways, I’ve been meaning to do this tag for a while, but I wanted to wait until it was actually winter to do it, so here I am, about a year later. (Oops…) I was tagged by Ritz @ Living, Loving and Reading, and the tag was originally created by Katherine Barka on YouTube.
Let’s begin, shall we?
☃️WINTER IS COMING BOOK TAG☃️
SNOWFLAKE: something beautiful and always different. Choose a book that stands out and that is different from all the other books you’ve read.
The Reckless Kindwas an unexpected 5-star read for me; The inclusion of so much queer rep AND disability rep in a historical fiction novel set in a time period/place that I haven’t read much about made for a truly unique read. Highly recommended!
SNOWMAN: it is always fun to make one with your family. Choose a book a whole family could read.
Part of why I’m putting this on here is to draw attention to these gorgeous new editions coming out next September, but now that I’m looking back at The Search for WondLa (my favorite series back in late elementary/middle school), it’s one of those special kid’s books that you can appreciate just as much as an adult.
CHRISTMAS: Choose a book full of happiness that made you warm inside after reading it.
I need to stop putting Heartstopperfor every book tag with a “warm/fuzzy/cozy/etc.” prompt, but it…always fits?? It’s just so full of love and joy and all things warm and fuzzy…🥹
SANTA CLAUS: He brings wonderful presents. Choose a book you’d like to get for Christmas.
SNOWBALLING: It can be painful to be hit by a snowball. Choose a book that hurt, that made you feel some strong emotion, like sadness, or anger.
She Gets the Girljust made me angry for most of the time reading it—I hated Alex, and the romance had zero chemistry. Not worth it at all.
SLEDDING: We all loved it when we were younger. Choose a book you loved when you were a child.
I could’ve put WondLa on here too, but a prompt like this calls for Warriors! I was OBSESSED with these books for years, and I have so many good memories of working my way through the series and picking up the paperbacks from my local bookstore as I made my way through the seemingly endless books. There’s a good…40 of them that I still have in boxes under my bed.
FROSTBITE: Choose a book you were really disappointed in.
I wanted to give The All-Consuming Worlda chance despite the low ratings, but I could barely get through the muck of painful writing…
REINDEER: Something dear to us. Choose a book of great sentimental value to you.
I had to restrain myself from putting Aurora Rising for this prompt, I know you’re all tired of me and my Aurora Cycle soapbox, so…even though the rest of the series started going downhill after this one, I have incredibly fond memories of reading Carry Onfor the first time. Gotta love Rainbow Rowell.
+ anyone else who wants to participate! if you see this tag and want to do it, I’d love to see your answers! if I tagged you and you’ve already done it/don’t want to do it, my bad.
Today’s song:
how about some childhood nostalgia for this saturday morning
That’s it for this tag! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Still fall, so I might as well do this tag, right? Doesn’t *feel* very fall-like—we just got our first big snow on Thursday night, and it’s mostly melted now, but it’s still pretty chilly. We’ve still got a few straggler leaves, though, albeit very damp ones now.
Anyways, this tag was created by Silver Button Books, and I found the tag over at Classy x Book Reviews. I’m always up for a seasonal tag, especially if it’s my favorite season!
Let’s begin, shall we?
🍁FALL INTO FALL BOOK TAG🍁
APPLE PICKING: A bright, shiny book on your shelf
My copy of A Song of Wraiths and Ruinhas the most GORGEOUS gilded spine, and it always catches the light whenever I come into my room!
PUMPKIN SPICE: A book that everyone loved that just didn’t sit well with you
Everybody seemed to love The Space Between Worlds,but it left me wanting so much more—with such an expansive concept, I feel like there were so many more creative directions it could’ve taken, but alas…
FALL LEAF TOUR: A gorgeously written journey
I Am the Ghost in Your Housenot only presented an incredibly compelling piece of magical realism, but it gave us the poignant journey of Pie, an invisible girl grappling with how the world sees—and doesn’t see—her.
PUMPKIN PICKING: A book that reflects the pumpkin you always pick
My main criteria for pumpkins is just a) being light enough for me to pick up, and b) not super beaten up, so I’ll pick The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea—a solid length, and almost flawless.
HALLOWEEN COSTUME: A book with a character whose style you admire
Asta from The Reckless Kindis not only an absolute delight in personality, but also in her cheeky sense of style—nothing like split-dyeing your hair in the 1900’s to match your heterochromia!
FALL BEVERAGE: A book that reflects your favorite fall drink
I’d probably pick hot chocolate or cinnamon tea for my favorite fall drink, even though I technically drink cinnamon tea no matter the weather. Both of them make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, and the same can be said for Heartstopper!
CORN MAZE: A book you can get lost in
The expansive, colorful world of Tillie Walden’s On a Sunbeamis one that I love to get lost in.
HOT FOOD: A book you waited all summer to read
Alright, technically, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy came out in July, but it was on hold so long that I only got around to reading it this October. Worth the wait, though!
+ anyone else who wants to participate! if you see this tag and want to do it, then I’d love to see your answers! and if I tagged you and you’ve already done this tag/don’t want to do it, my bad.
Today’s song:
welcome back to this season of sad girl autumn, I’ll be your host—
That’s it for this book tag! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
The Bookish Mutant 