Here in theU.S., November is Native American Heritage Month! I’m surprised that I haven’t compiled a list for the occasion yet, but to be fair, November tends to be a busy month for me. But now that I’m a few days away from break, I figured I would use that time to make this list.
Despite the wonderful boost in diversity in YA and adult literature in the past decade or so, I’ve seen very little of that diversity focused on Indigenous characters and stories. It could be just me, from an outsider perspective, but diversity means boosting all voices—not just the few that you can think of off the top of your head when you think of the word “diversity.” And as an American, I know full well that we are and always have been living on stolen land, so it’s important to read outside of what our history books teach us. So I’ve compiled some of my favorite books by Native American, Indigenous, and First Nations authors for the occasion.
Let’s begin, shall we?
THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR NATIVE AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH
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 books by Indigenous authors? Let me know in the comments!
Today’s song:
That’s it for this recommendations post! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Brief rant: don’t you love it when Goodreads posts the nominees for the “YA Fantasy & Science Fiction” category and…there’s no science fiction books on the list? Not a single one? Thank you Goodreads 🥰
It’s been years since I’ve read anything by Kelly Barnhill; I read a fair amount of her middle-grade novels when I was younger, and there were hits (The Girl Who Drank the Moon) and misses (Iron-Hearted Violet). But either way, the road has taken me back to her adult novella, a chilling retelling of “The Crane Wife” that I thoroughly enjoyed.
In a distant future, a fifteen-year-old girl lives on one of the few remaining farms in the United States, growing cloned crops in order to make a living. Her father passed away when she was young, and now she manages the farm with her mother and takes care of her six-year-old brother, Michael. But when her mother brings home a new suitor, the girl is appalled to find that the suitor happens to be a giant crane—a crane intent on working her mother to the bone in order to produce tapestries to sell. As her mother succumbs to the wills of the crane and her family grows poorer, the girl knows that the only way out is to rid the house of the crane—and she’ll do anything to make sure the bird is out of the farm.
TW/CW: death of a parent, blood, abuse, animal death, child endangerment
It’s been at least seven or eight years since I’ve read anything by Kelly Barnhill, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that when faced with the (quite large) jump from stylistic choices between age groups, she does so with eery grace! The Crane Husband was a disturbing treat, quick but chilling.
I only had a vague notion of the original Japanese folktale of the Crane Wife that this book subverts, but even without that background, Barnhill weaves a haunting, dystopian fairytale like no other. It’s that lovely kind of book that falls into science fiction, but has just enough trappings of other genres to pass as something else. The magical realism element is heavier than the rest, and it rules the book—rightfully so, given the subject matter. But like a good fairytale, Barnhill’s ability to suspend disbelief made The Crane Husband all the scarier—scenes that would have otherwise seemed charmingly quirky or absurd were downright horrifying under her lens.
Barnhill’s writing was what sold how horrific the events of The Crane Husband truly were. The way she captured the voice of the unnamed, fifteen-year-old protagonist as she had to take her livelihood into her own hands in the face of the invading crane husband had such a tangible desperation, making the conflict feel real as all get out. Tension crept out from every word, and I found myself keeping my Kindle in a vice grip as I read. And that tension never wanes—in only 118 pages, Barnhill built up monumental tension that books three times the length have failed to uphold. The Crane Husband really was nail-bitingly eerie, and it was worth it all the way.
The way that Barnhill used this tangibly uncomfortable atmosphere to drive the point of this folktale’s subversion home was also masterful. The main twist in this iteration is, hence the title, that the protagonist’s mother brings home a giant crane who she takes as her husband. And instead of the crane wife wasting away to produce beautiful tapestries, it’s the human mother being forced by the crane husband to churn out tapestries like a machine. Abusive relationships were the main theme of the novella, and Barnhill’s depiction of abuse through this lens felt as authentic as it could be, from the strained, forced silence of the women of the family and the lack of support that the protagonist finds when she tries to seek help. Beyond that, The Crane Husband’s message about suffering for art was equally powerful and important; the emphasis on how the protagonist’s mother works to the point of near-death in order to create something that people will think of as “transformative” was commentary that I wasn’t expecting from the novel, but enjoyed wholeheartedly. Needs to be said.
That being said, my only major problem with this novella was that it directly referenced the original folktale that it’s retelling. Though it was in a flashback scene, it felt tacky and unnecessarily meta to hand it to you right there—and not only that, but basically delivering the twist right at your doorstep. I will admit that I loved the line about cranes making other creatures do the work for them, but at that point, it isn’t even foreshadowing anymore—it’s just whacking you over the head with the twist that it’s supposed to be hiding from you. It made me more than a little mad, but the rest of the novella was so good that I could almost let it slide. Almost.
All in all, a timely and truly disturbing retelling that packed a stinging punch with an impressively short page count. 4 stars!
The Crane Husband is a standalone; Kelly Barnhill is also the author of many books for children, including The Witch’s Boy, The Girl Who Drank the Moon, and Iron-Hearted Violet. She is also the author of When Women Were Dragons, her first full-length novel for adults.
Today’s song:
NEW SMILE ALBUM IN JANUARY EVERYBODY STAY CALM
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
11/12/23: another satisfying date where the month and the day add up to the year. Glorious. Savor these days. And to soundtrack those days, why not listen to some nice, orange songs? (Half of which I stole from Wilco’s pre-show playlist, but that’s beside the point).
CONTENT WARNING FOR THE MUSIC VIDEO: most of the music video consists of an interview with a former Guantanamo Bay prisoner recounting the torture and inhumane conditions of the prison, so if this is triggering for you, proceed at your own discretion. That part of the video begins at 3:32.
I’m slowly (no pun intended) getting into Massive Attack, mostly thanks to my brother and my dad. This one is all thanks to my brother, who confessed to us while we were in line for Peter Gabriel last month that he had no idea until then who was singing on the track. His first thought was Gruff Rhys (makes sense), but apparently not—Damon Albarn does the lead vocals for this song.
That was all the convincing I needed to download it. You know me.
I’ve noticed a phenomenon in any later Damon Albarn project (of which there have been two this year) where there’s a point where it ceases to sound like Gorillaz or Blur, and just sounds like Damon Albarn. Gorillaz usually remedies some of this with its rotating cast of guest features, but on something like Blur’s newest album, The Ballad of Darren, there’s very little to distinguish it from his solo work. As I said in my initial thoughts on the album back in July, it’s still good music, but it lacks what makes Blur Blur, even though all the moving parts are present. But how does that flip when Damon Albarn is the feature instead of the one in charge of the features? “Saturday Come Slow” has an aura to it that could only be produced by the likes of Massive Attack; the slow build of it has an unmistakable air of foreboding, as if the Saturday coming slow is a shadow wiggling its too-long fingers over your shoulder. Fitting that Albarn croons about “the limestone caves/in the southwest lands,” imagery that calls to mind barren, sheer things towering over you. It’s a kind of eery creeping that meshes with the howling echo of his voice, but that you don’t quite get with Gorillaz or Blur; Gorillaz can get plenty spooky in a fun way, but they were never meant to be creepy—they’re a pop act at heart, and even though they’ve tread territory that pop hasn’t normally trod on for the 20+ years they’ve been active, it doesn’t have the foreboding build of this song. Blur, on the other hand, got plenty weird and unnerving in their experimental years (see: “Caramel,”“Trailerpark”), but their brand of unnerving came more from the claustrophobic atmosphere of off-kilter samples and synths that built up its cramped exoskeleton. The dread of “Saturday Come Slow” comes from how spacious it feels—like those limestone caves, that sense of foreboding comes from the primal sense of being surrounded by something larger than yourself—and being walled in by it, with only the echo of your voice to accompany you.
This is the first of two songs this week that I stole from the playlist that played before Wilco’s phenomenal show at the Mission Ballroom back in October. An indicator of a really good show can be found in its playlist—if you keep going back and forth between you and everyone else who came along trying to Siri every song that comes on, then you know it’s gonna be a good show. Same thing happened with when I saw Spiritualized last year. That whole playlist was in heavy rotation for a solid month and a half afterwards. (Lesley Gore and Daniel Johnston: duality of man.)
The first thing that anybody has to notice about the song is the bass. That bass. Sweet Jesus, it’s so good. “Lucinda,” once the chorus kicks in, has not one but two basslines, all working in the thicket, most delicious tandem possible. Jez Kerr leads the charge with a sound that feels thick enough to cut with a butterknife—it propels the sound to new heights, taking what might have otherwise been a bare-bones, post-punk dance song to something hypnotically head-nodding. The bass might as well be the vocals—Martha Wilson’s tight vocals are soft and fleeting, but it’s Kerr’s bass that really takes center stage in “Lucinda.” It’s more than a head-nodder—it’s a whole-body-swayer, buttery and enigmatic enough to send waves through your whole system. Thanks, Wilco.
I’m not like other girls…I didn’t find out about this song through Abbott Elementary. I found out about it through my mom, who…found out about it through Abbott Elementary. It’s good stuff. The song and Abbott Elementary, from the laughter I’ve heard from the bedroom whenever she watches it.
Whatever the case, “Hold Em” was destined for theme music from the start. The beat and instrumentation has that kind of meticulous touch to it. Smooth really is the best word to describe it: the groove that persists through this song never wanes, but never feels the need to amp up the intensity. With the persistent but boxed-in drumbeat and the humbly soft bassline, it lulls you into an instant rhythm, but the kind of rhythm understated enough to allow for some freeze-frames and title screens as the opening credits roll through. And yet, it never feels understated: it’s bold. It feels like there’s constant pops of color bursting through your ears. It’s infectious. And that’s what would make it a great theme song: catchy enough to remember, but smooth enough to share the stage with a visual element.
I have nothing to say for myself. It slaps. Just Dance 2 and its effects on society.
Look, the original spot for this slot was gonna be “The Day I Tried to Live,” but I figured we’d stave off that depression for a few weeks. I’m going to talk about it eventually (because it’s still a fantastic song), but it’s getting dark at 5pm and I still haven’t adjusted. We don’t need that energy right now. Move your feet. Feel united.
We’ll end on a softer note with the other song that I stole from Wilco, or, at any rate, whoever was behind their playlist. Drastically different than “Lucinda” (and most of this week’s songs), but nonetheless beautiful.
In the style of Kim Deal, The A’s are a side project of a side project; consisting of Amelia Meath and Alexandra Sauser-Monnig, the A’s came about after both of them took breaks from previous bands and solo careers—they both hail from North Carolina and had crossed paths in the music industry, and thus this project came to be. I haven’t listened to any of their work (save for…[checks notes] Sylvan Esso? That Sylvan Esso? The annoying Sirius XMU Sylvan Esso? Can’t be…) outside of this band, but the two of them together made for hauntingly beautiful harmonies. Watching them on their recent Tiny Desk Concert solidifies the image even more—they’re like charmingly unnerving cartoon characters, with their matching leaf-print dresses, black lipstick, and giant sunglasses. I wouldn’t be surprised if they eventually became those old ladies from Coraline in their latter years.
“Swing and Turn Jubilee” is part of their album Fruit, an album of almost all covers (save for the original song “When I Die”), ranging from cowboy and folk standards to Shelley Duvall (more on the latter in a few weeks, mark my words). Some of the other songs that they performed on Tiny Desk definitely get too into that yodel-ay-hee-hoo, Buster Scruggs a-capella vibe for me, but in any case, there’s no denying the magic that happens when their harmonies collide. “Swing and Turn,” even if I hadn’t first heard it from Wilco, would have been an instant stand-out, if a quiet one; their performance is just their voices, Sauser-Monnig on guitars, and Meath making percussion by tapping her thick-soled sneakers into a basket of stones. Doesn’t get much folkier than that. Most of these kinds of Appalachian folk songs that I hear from movies or from covers (so covered that the original songwriter is lost to time) are the kind that have a kind of desperate, underlying sorrow to them that permeates even the sweetest love song. Living in the bare bones of the U.S. just does that to a person, I guess. But there’s something about this take on “Swing and Turn” that turns the sorrow into tenderness. It doesn’t give me that icky, Dust Bowl malaise; to be fair, most iterations are faster and more upbeat than most other songs of its ilk, but the restrained, slow pace of The A’s take on it fooled me into thinking so. But it’s partly due t how plainly sweet the lyrics are: “Hardest work I’ve ever done/was working on a farm/Easiest work I’ve ever done/was falling into your arms.” The gentle honey of Meath and Sauser-Monnig’s soft harmonies seem to take me in their arms themselves, like I’m being rocked to sleep.
Either way, these kind of modern folk covers are just begging to be put somewhere in either Fargo (NEW SEASON IN A WEEK AND A HALF WHO’S HYPED) or the next Coen Brothers project. If your whole deal is melancholy covers of already melancholy and unnerving folk songs, you’re just asking for it, at that point.
Since this week 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!
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
Did somebody order a monthly blue period double-dipped with Peter Gabriel? Because you guys are not gonna believe what showed up on my doorstep this morning…
COME AND GET IT! TWO FOR ONE PETER GABRIEL DEAL! TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!
If there’s a vaguely overarching theme for this week’s songs that I can throw together, it’s that Peter Gabriel gets so much weirder than people give him credit for. I suppose that’s the curse of any musician whose earlier hits get the spotlight while the later, more experimental parts of their career go on the wayside in terms of engagement, but are as full of life and creativity as anything else they’ve produced (see also: David Bowie, Kate Bush). To be fair, we’re so used to aging artists that continue to pump out more of the same in hopes of keeping the fire of fame going (say, what’s going on with The Rolling Stones lately?), but equating aging to a decline in musical artistry is shallow either way. Again: I just saw Peter Gabriel a few weeks back, and here he is at 73 delivering some of the most spectacular performances—both visual and musical—that I’ve seen from any musician on stage.
The album, 2000’s OVO, is technically his soundtrack work, and was conceived for a multimedia show that ran in the Millennium Dome for 999 shows in that same year. Gabriel’s work on it interfered with his next album, the criminally underrated Up, which ended up coming out in 2002, a year after it was set to be released. The through lines between the two are clear; “The Tower That Ate People” (good god, what a title) has an industrial, almost Massive Attack-like crawl to it, propelled by a looped guitar riff. Gabriel’s voice comes out as a shrouded growl, making it all the more convincing when he opens the song with “There’s a bump in the basement/there’s a knocking on the wall.” The electronic grinding as he sings of “the pumping of the pistons” makes the music swell. It’s a clanging machine, but it never loses an ounce of that cinematic, Peter Gabriel touch—especially not the prolonged silence after he declares “We’re building up/Until we touch the sky,” letting everything fade to lumbering, echoing footsteps. I can only imagine what the stage show was like. I’m jealous that I wasn’t one of the lucky few who got to see this live on the i/o tour, because can you imagine the feeling of this reverberating straight through your ribs?
THEY’RE BACK!! THEY’RE BACK!!!! So what if it’s a cover—it’s a perfect fit.
Even without as much Death Cab for Cutie knowledge (much less about the album that they’re commemorating—before this, all I knew was the title track. Owie.), it’s easy to see that pairing them with Car Seat Headrest was a fit as perfect as puzzle pieces sliding together. Despite “We Looked Like Giants” being a cover, it feels like the whole song is harkening back to the Teens of Denial glory days, with its crashing guitar breakdowns and angst so dense you could squeeze it out of a dish towel. The lyrics feel even more like it was made for them—”When every Thursday/I’d brave the mountain passes/And you’d skip your early classes/And we learned how our bodies worked.” Certainly makes…every single song from Twin Fantasy make more sense. Even without the slam of an intro that the original version boasts, the tension and momentum that Will Toledo and company bring to this song fills it with the nervous energy that has defined the band for so long—it’s a song teetering on its tiptoes, balancing out both arms as it contemplates the edge. Toledo’s signature, honeyed wail takes the song to dizzying heights, making the collision course back to Earth as the final seconds plunge into silence all the more riveting. I always get all sappy about Teens of Denial and all of the memories of listening to it the summer before I started high school, and this song brings all of the good parts of that back—slip this before “Fill In the Blank,” and I wouldn’t even blink. Leave it to Car Seat Headrest to toe the line between an unchanged cover and one that makes the cover all their own.
I’ve done it. I’ve finally surmounted the task of going through all of Peter Gabriel’s albums (minus his soundtrack work). Peter Gabriel summer has come to an end. Peter Gabriel 4: Security was the last one for entirely arbitrary reasons, but it’s fantastic—and a lot creepier than most people give it credit for.
Take this song. Immediately, it sonically calls back to “Intruder,” with its ominously creeping instrumentals, off-kilter chanting and an unsettling chorus of flutes that open the song. Slowly, you start to process the lyrics, and the chill starts creeping down your spine. “Icing on the warm flesh cake?” Yep. Mom, come pick me up, I’m scared. But if you take just a quick look through, you can see the true genius of this song—I was super curious about the meaning, and I was floored by the concept behind it.
“Vows of sacrifice (vows of sacrifice)/Headless chickens (headless chickens)/Dance in circles (dance in circles)”. It sounds like the makings of a cult. But Peter Gabriel specifically created “The Family and the Fishing Net” as a wedding song. Vows of sacrifice? For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. Headless chickens? Could just as well be serving a roast dinner at the ceremony. Dance in circles? We’ve all done that at a wedding or two, haven’t we? That’s where the lyrical genius comes in—it’s not just that he’s subverting Western wedding imagery and making it sound like a cult ritual, there’s a level of exoticization that he brings to it that makes it clever in a conscious way that lines up with his worldly sensibilities. It feels like a response to every song that’s ever demonized and exoticized ordinary (and often sacred) rituals of indigenous people around the world. And given that much of this album has that worldly ethos (see also: “San Jacinto,”“Wallflower”), it’s a perfect addition. As much as I tend to rag on old white guys, Peter Gabriel should be one of the paragon examples in writing songs—and any kind of writing—outside our worldviews, just for the simple fact that he cares to listen about people’s lived experiences. It’s not just writing about some strange, foreign goings-on that he witnessed in his travels—Gabriel took the time to make sure that he understood and uplifted the people and cultures that he encountered. That’s what makes this song feel so important—he recognized the detriment in writing songs from an ignorant distance, and used that aspect of the history of Western music to create one of the creepiest—and most clever—songs in his catalogue.
Also, to the anonymous YouTube commenter who said that she wanted to have this play when she walked down the aisle: I salute you. I’d pay to see that.
So it turns out that the she who plays bass is beabadoobee’s actual bassist, and…yeah. They’re aren’t romantically involved, but that still has to be bizarre to be playing bass on a song about yourself. At least all parties seem to be okay with it? Knock on wood that beabadoobee’s backing band doesn’t get into any kind of Fleetwood Mac funny business.
That aside, here’s another entry into my thesis that beabadoobee makes the perfect music for teen rom-coms. From her 90’s-inspired Space Cadet EP (hmm, wonder why there’s a song called “I Wish I Was Stephen Malkmus”…), it’s an ode to yearning, longing, and bright, shiny guitars. Bea Kristi described the song as “a Cure rip-off,” a description that she admitted to Robert Smith himself when they met at the BRIT awards back in 2020. Either way you want to describe it, there’s no denying the brightness of it—despite the black and white cover of the single, “She Plays Bass” is rife with neon colors and cartoon stars. I halfway get the Cure bit—definitely more like “Friday I’m in Love” or “Let’s Go to Bed” than their other music—but what I do get is delightfully guitar-driven indie longing, sparkling and starry-eyed. If “Glue Song” plays in the end-credits of said rom-com, maybe this plays as the intimidatingly cool love interest is introduced. Just a thought.
What? You thought I was gonna shut up about the rest after talking about “Powers”? You fools…
“Black Hole” is an easy song to have on loop—it’s part of the 3/4 of this EP where every song is freakishly hypnotic, but they’re all around two and a half minutes long, so they just suck you down with them forever, like water sucked down the sink drain. Or…maybe, something else? Mayhaps…a black hole? But the black hole in this song is a more recent revelation—”You can see the stars, the ones/The headlines said this morning were being spat out/By what we thought was just/Destroying everything for good.” The black hole in question is a fascinating one: caught by the Hubble telescope in early April of this year, NASA observed that this supermassive black hole was leaving a trail of stars in its destructive wake that stretched over 200,000 light years long. It’s the perfect, beautiful moment to write a song about. Hopefully this bodes well for me because I’m taking an astronomy class next year: I’ve always struggled with astronomy in school previously, but it makes me tear up that we live in a universe that we will never fully know everything about. That there will always be new things to discover about the vastness of space and the world around us and beyond us until the day I die.
Back to the song: it’s poetry. More specifically, it’s two separate poems. Julien Baker takes the reins in the first poem, with her musings about looking at the stars. The gently clattering electronic instrumentals sound appropriately starry, with the hum of synths leading into Baker’s voice, then transitioning into a tinny, ascending scale on a keyboard just before everything shifts. This is the second poem. It feels like the camera has whipped around as the drums and synths intensify, panning around to Lucy Dacus as Phoebe Bridgers lingers just out of the frame, opaque camera shots flickering at high speed over them as the camera zooms in on their faces. Hearing Dacus take the high notes and Bridgers taking the low, the opposite of their normal range, is an odd treat—it makes Bridgers’ voice seem like a ghost, barely there unless you really pay attention, while Dacus acts as the piercing lighthouse beacon cutting through the fog. All of their lines are enchantingly neat, spaced apart like they’re all collected in separate bins. Apart from the initial confusion (and fleeting clunkiness) of the first two lines (“White teeth/black light/White tee/brown eyes”—”teeth” and “tee” sound way too similar, especially when preceded by the same adjective), I’ve been eating up the emotionally-charged precision of it all. As each line is cut off the chopping block, the drum machine thrums on, just as meticulous as the delivery of each lyric. And I am nothing if not a sucker for songs on an album (or an EP, in this case) that transition into the other as though they’re the same song. Especially with this and “Afraid of Heights” being so short, it feels all the more like a single song. Pure artistry.
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!
The snow outside my window says December, but mentally, I feel like it’s September, and somehow it’s technically November…time is an illusion huh
GENERAL THOUGHTS:
I’ve probably said this several times before, but I’m still baffled that my first semester of college is almost over! It feels like there should be months, not weeks, left to go through. But no, I suppose not, and my winter break lasts nearly a month! What a relief to not have finals just days before Christmas like in high school…
I’ve had some fun, regardless. As the temperatures have been dropping, I’ve been bundling up and drinking an excess of hot chocolate (big thank you to my mom). I’ve been able to read more frequently now that I’m a bit more settled in, and it’s been a mixed bag, but there have definitely been some hits among the misses. I called off NaNoWriMo for myself this years since I haven’t adjusted all the way, and plus, I usually plan for a while beforehand, and that just…didn’t happen.
Other than that, I’ve just been drawing (getting the hang of digital art, I think), watching Black Panther: Wakanda Forever and Wendell & Wild, sleeping in and eating way too much over Thanksgiving Break, and having to wear enough layers to restrict any mobility in my arms. Welcome to Colorado, folks.
READING AND BLOGGING:
I read 17 books this month! Less than I usually read in a month, for sure, but I haven’t been able to read quite as much because I’m still getting used to college and all. Plus, finals season looms…
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
Thanksgiving break was this week, which was such a relief. It was so nice to be able to sleep in for a week, and I had a productive break—I got some homework done, and I had a good amount of time to relax. The weather warmed up a little as well, but of course, it’s supposed to snow again right when I get back to college…(maybe they’ll cancel classes again?) Thanksgiving is always fun, and I loved helping my family out with some of the cooking, and subsequently stuffing myself.
The break has also given me some time to read, which was wonderful—apart from all of the single-issue comics I got as well, I went through several books on my Kindle, although one of them ended up being a sore DNF. The others were all good, though, to varying degrees.
Also, I think this happened some time last week, but I finished my reading challenge! I set it to 200 books this year, knowing that I’d probably be reading less while transitioning to college, but I still managed to achieve it! I’m at about 208 books right now.
Other than that, I’ve just been sleeping in, eating too much, drawing, getting our Christmas tree (after Thanksgiving), and watching the Holiday Bakeoff andfinally getting around to seeing Wendell & Wild (which is AMAZING if you haven’t seen it, go watch it)
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
It’s getting colder still down here—we had not one, but two big snows this week, which resulted in having no classes the Friday before break! Needless to say, I only left my dorm to get breakfast and lunch that day before I went back home. Hot chocolate season.
Despite the cold, it’s been an exciting week! Namely, I had the incredible honor of meeting Alison Bechdel!! She came to speak to my comics class, and I even had the opportunity to workshop some of my own artwork with her! It was such an unforgettable experience, and one I’ll treasure for the rest of my life. (And I didn’t ugly cry this time!!! Got a little choked up, though. She liked my Frankenstein phone case haha) And speaking of big feels, I’ve been reconnecting with my middle school self now that it’s confirmed that the Search for WondLa TV show is officially coming to Apple TV+ sometime next year. It’s times like this that make me wish I could deliver messages to my past self, just to tell her that her middle school dreams are coming true. This show better be good.
I’ve had more time to read this week, and it’s been a mixed bag, but I definitely found a gem or two amongst them. I stopped by the comics shop on the way home, and between all of those (me & all my silly little X-Men spin-offs) and Scattered Showers, I think I’ll have plenty to read this week.
Other than that, I’ve just been making an excess of hot chocolate (big thank you to my mom for supplying me with all those hot cocoa packets), drawing, learning some more Radiohead on guitar, and finishing the new season of the Great British Bakeoff. (Now I need to start watching the Holiday Bakeoff to fill the void…)
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
The temperatures are dropping big time on campus, and I’ve been making plenty of hot chocolate and tea for the occasion. Luckily, I haven’t had an awful lot to do this week, save for a project for comics class. (We also talked about Ms. Marvel this week in that class, which was SO FUN) It’s so strange to think that there’s only about a month left in the semester—I feel like there should still be several months left, with the way that it’s flown by. Jeez.
I’ve had a little more time to read. I snagged a few books from various sections of the library last week, and I went through them, along with a few re-reads for comics class. I went home for the weekend and I was able to reunite with my beloved Kindle, so now I have that to get me through next week.
Other than that, I’ve just been catching up on The Great British Bakeoff (FINALS NEXT WEEK AAAAAAAA), drawing, playing guitar when I can, listening to Lush and Suede, and seeing Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (pretty solid!). VERY glad that Thanksgiving Break starts next week…
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week treated you well.
It doesn’t feel like it should be November—mentally, I still feel like it’s…mid-September? Maybe? It doesn’t feel like I’m almost done with the semester. Wow. Weather-wise, it feels like November, though—it’s getting a lot chillier over here, and we had our first snow on my campus on Thursday night and I walked through the snow to class on Friday morning. All of my classes are pretty close to my dorm, thankfully…
Halloween was also on Monday! I carved pumpkins with my parents over the weekend, and I wore my costume (Columbia from The Rocky Horror Picture Show) to class, which was a lot of fun. Nothing like eating a ton of candy and rewatching Rocky Horror in your dorm to celebrate the spooky season.
It’s definitely been fun to get back into the rhythm of blogging this week too! I haven’t been too busy, knock on wood, so hopefully I can start posting more. Good to be back. 💗 I tragically forgot my Kindle at home this week, but the good news is that one of the libraries on campus isn’t even a 5 minute walk from my dorm, so I was able to scrounge around there for stuff to read. Re-reading some great graphic novels for my comics class has also kept me going. And…I completely forgot that NaNoWriMo was a thing, but I’ll probably just put it off this year. Probably not the best time to do it, since…y’know, first semester of college, and all. Plus, I didn’t have any plans, anyway…
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.
This week has been…tiring, to say the least. The week after Thanksgiving Break is always a slog, but I got through to the weekend, at least. On the upside, we got our Christmas tree on Friday and I went to the Nutcracker ballet with my mom on Saturday!
As far as reading, my Thanksgiving break reading slump stretched out a little into this week, but reading some good old Star Wars books made things better. I wasn’t able to go to the library this week, but I picked up all my books early, and they look promising too!
AND I FINISHED NANOWRIMO!! I beat my 45,000 word count goal with 45,176!! After Tuesday night, I took a break from writing, and I’ll probably keep it that way until I have finals over with. But I want to edit draft 2 of my main sci-fi WIP that’s been gathering a little dust since…August? September? I don’t remember, but I need to dig it out and polish it up.
Other than that, I’ve just been getting through my homework, watching the new episode of Hawkeye (still just decent for me, but THE HANZEE CAMEO??? that was fun), listening to Abbey Road, and putting up Christmas decorations.
The Bookish Mutant 