Halfway through 2024…no! No we aren’t 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀
Let’s begin, shall we?
GENERAL THOUGHTS:
After how busy and hectic my sophomore year of college was, June has been a time to recharge in more ways than one. I went on a quiet vacation at the beginning of the month (Ouray and Black Canyon of the Gunnison—the latter is a very underrated national park, I highly recommend it!), and I’ve taken the rest of the month to…well, rest. I’ve tried to be on social media less and focus on art, writing, and generally nourishing my creativity. In preparation for Camp NaNoWriMo (I only ever do the July camp these days because November and April are both abysmally busy times for me now that I’m in college), I’ve decided to round out my sci-fi trilogy and write the first draft of book three; at this point, I’ve beefed up the outline like a grizzly bear before hibernation, so at least I’ll have some sense of direction…wish me luck!
My reading month started out slower, and it’s had some dips, as always, but I ended up reading loads of fantastic queer books for pride month! Predictably, one of my vacation souvenirs wasn’t something related to where we went…no, I bought a copy of The Familiar at a local bookstore (support ’em!) knowing that it would take eons for my hold to arrive at the library. Worth it. I also figured it was as good a time as any to re-read my favorite series from when I was a kid—the WondLa trilogy. My verdict? It healed my soul and reinvigorated my creativity. Some kid’s books don’t age well, but WondLa never gets old.
Other than that, I’ve just been making art, playing guitar, going to pride (so much fun!), watching Hacks, Succession (nearly finished with season 1, and all it’s done is made me fear business majors even more than I already do), and…morbidly, Apple TV+’s new show that they decided to call WondLa. I’m three episodes in, and it’s like watching a train wreck. Expect a retrospective on the WondLa trilogy and possibly a review of…whatever that show is that definitely isn’t WondLa.
On a lighter note, photos from my vacation and pride:
OurayBlack Canyon of the Gunnison50th anniversary of Denver Pride!
(The bear on the title of the post is in honor of a bear we saw crossing the road in Black Canyon. Could also represent bears in general? Happy pride.)
READING AND BLOGGING:
I read 18 books this month! It’s been another relaxed reading month, and although I had a slump towards the end of the month, I read several incredible books for pride month!
I’ve been a fan of Anna-Marie McLemore since high school, but over the past two years or so, I’ve seen a decline in quality in their books; for their last two releases, I chalked it up to co-authoring (Venom & Vow) and being constrained by what they had to work with, although that could be a stretch (Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix). With their latest release, Flawless Girls, having a concerningly low average rating (3.30 at present), I expected the worst, but still wanted to believe that they could come back with something better. And…Flawless Girls was better, but only by a slim margin.
The Soler sisters—Isla and Renata—are famously wild, raised to be rebellious and questioning of their restrictive society from a young age. But their grandmother knows that society will frown upon such disobedient girls, and there is one last resort to keep them in line: the prestigious Alarie House, a finishing school famous for the assembly line of polite, high-society women that it churns out. After Renata returns from the Alarie House plagued by madness, Isla decides to dig into the dark corners of the school to see just what made her sister crumble. But what she finds in the corrupted heart of the Alarie House may put all of the girls in jeopardy…
TW/CW: prejudice against an intersex person, fire, body horror, misogyny, dysphoria, descriptions of injury, violence
For the past two years or so, I’ve seen a decline in Anna-Marie McLemore’s novels, which is something that I’ve dreaded saying. I didn’t want to force such words upon the same lyrical talent who wrote When the Moon Was Ours and Wild Beauty, but alas…maybe it wasn’t meant to last. Although it wasn’t as disappointing as Venom & Vow or Self-Made Boys, Flawless Girls was thoroughly messy, even if there were some bright spots in it.
What I want to emphasize the most about Flawless Girls is that, for all of its flaws (no pun intended), it had promise—it was just severely underdeveloped. If McLemore didn’t want to flesh out the concept of the novel, I think it would have worked spectacularly as a novella or even a short story. McLemore’s narration, even it wasn’t as lushly descriptive as I’ve come to know them for, had the feel of a cautionary fable, which was a perfect fit for this story. Even if it did feel like we were being sledgehammered in the face with the main metaphor, it nonetheless had the feeling of a dark fairytale or a fable. To be honest, Flawless Girls could work even better if it were aimed at younger YA audiences just coming into the genre, and I don’t mean that as a slight to the novel at all. It’s not subtle, but as a transitory book between middle grade and YA, it could work. With some significant polishing, of course.
Said main metaphor is femininity—more specifically the performance of it. The institution of the Alarie House served as a pointed commentary about the artificiality of our expectations for women and girls, and how unattainable and manicured these expectations are. It was especially poignant with Isla, a Latina and intersex protagonist struggling with performing femininity with a nonconforming body. Isla’s story felt incredibly personal—I had no idea that McLemore was also intersex, and it’s clear from every page that this is the story of their heart. There’s so little intersex representation out there, but that’s not the only reason why Flawless Girls, with a little polish, could be so important—it’s a fable of the madness that befalls women and feminine-presenting people crumbling under the weight of beauty and behavioral standards. Could it have been more subtle? Without a doubt. Was it impactful nonetheless? Absolutely.
That being said…a recurring thought I had while reading Flawless Girls was that it felt like a front for as many gemstone facts as possible. Next to the metaphor about femininity and performance, gemstones were right up there with the most striking motifs of the novel, but they were everywhere. Once you get past the 30% mark, characters will just ramble on about any kind of gemstone fact that they can shove in the span of two pages. At that point, a motif that bloats so much of the narrative just isn’t a motif anymore—it’s just swallowing everything else in its path. It did play a key role in the ending, but if McLemore wanted to make said ending more impactful, slimming down the endless character interactions where they just talk about gemstones for five pages would have been the right move. Like with jewelry, placement is key—you can’t just drown the narrative in a single motif and call it pretty.
Also, the worldbuilding is a mess. A complete mess. In the synopsis and the beginning of the novel, it’s stated that the reason that Isla and Renata are sent off to the Alarie House is that they’ve been raised to be rebellious and questioning of authority, and as they are Latina girls, it’s safer to teach them to keep quiet so that they don’t garner any unwanted attention. That would have been a very timely theme…if there was any indication of what society that Flawless Girls was set in! I assumed that it was a vaguely historical setting (and the author’s note didn’t clarify much else other than it being “historical”), but we get no sense of where we are in time, save for pre-21st century. Flawless Girls could equally work as being in a fantasy world or historical fiction with a touch of magical realism…but we have no idea which McLemore was going for, because outside of the Alarie House, nothing about the world is explained. No explanation of how and why the finishing schools came to be, no explanation of the technology level, no explanation of the (presumably) patriarchal powers pulling the strings and squeezing women into these molds. No worldbuilding, only gemstones!
All in all, a disappointing and messy effort from a longtime favorite that felt half-baked at best, but still shone in places. 3.25 stars.
Flawless Girls is a standalone, but Anna-Marie McLemore is also the author of Wild Beauty, When the Moon Was Ours, The Weight of Feathers, Lakelore, Dark and Deepest Red, Blanca & Roja, and Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix. They also co-authored Venom & Vow (with Elliott McLeMore) and Miss Meteor (with Tehlor Kay Mejia), and have contributed short stories to several anthologies, including All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens throughout the Ages, Eternally Yours, Color Outside the Lines, and many others.
Today’s song:
one of my favorite songs from this album!!
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Old news: I’m desperate for good cozy sci-fi, and most of that desperation comes from the fact that nobody does it like Becky Chambers, but publishers will slap “perfect for Becky Chambers fans!” on literally any sci-fi book with a hint of several people crammed on a ship. It has to stop. Floating Hotel looked like it might actually live up to those expectations, but I was hesitant because I didn’t enjoy Grace Curtis’ debut, Frontier. But I’m glad I gave Floating Hotel a chance, because it was just what I needed!
The Grand Abeona Hotel knows no borders, no political affiliations, and no galaxy or planet to call home. But for many, the Grand Abeona is their home away from home—a safe haven where nobody cares who you are and why you’re here. Run by Carl, the aging manager who first came to the hotel as a stowaway, the Grand Abeona is home to a vibrant cast of characters, all of whom will have paths that will unexpectedly intersect. And as small mysteries begin piling up in the far corners of the Grand Abeona, Carl and the hotel’s misfit staff must pull the pieces together before the hotel itself is put in harm’s way.
In retrospect, there’s really no better book that I could have read on my Kindle, which has the Grand Budapest Hotel on the case. Some things were just meant to be.
I doubt anyone will ever top Becky Chambers in terms of cozy sci-fi, but Grace Curtis comes close—and that’s exactly why I’m so glad that I gave her another chance. Though it’s not without its mystery and relatively high-stakes subplots, Floating Hotel is a cup of tea for the soul: quiet, observant, and downright warm and charming.
My main issue with Frontier was that it promised action, but delivered next to nothing; it’s not that I don’t like books without action, but when your book’s tagline is “love, loss, and laser guns,” you kind of…have to deliver there, no? After reading Floating Hotel, it’s clear that quieter, cozy sci-fi is what Curtis was meant to write; aside from the rebellion subplot, which was relatively under-the-radar and wasn’t a major issue until the last 20% of the novel, this novel had comfortably low stakes. Although there was a fair amount of turmoil in the empire established in the world of Floating Hotel, you really do feel like the Grand Abeona is a safe haven from all of the ills of the galaxy. There, nobody cares who you are, so long as you have a story to tell.
Another issue with Frontier was that, with all of the characters and subplots it juggled, a lot of the plot points blended together, giving the reader little time to connect with anybody. If my leap from Frontier’s 2-star rating to my 4-star rating of Floating Hotel wasn’t indication enough, Curtis has significantly improved on that aspect of her writing in the space between the two novels! This novel similarly juggles a multitude of characters—many of whom only get one chapter in the vast sea of POVs—but all of them have a unique place in the story. None of the backstories or motivations felt forced, and all of them connected back to how the Grand Abeona has healed them as people; through all of their eyes, whether it’s a waitress, a piano player, or a professor visiting for a conference, you can see just how important of the Grand Abeona is as a safe haven. Floating Hotel is one of the few books with more than 10 (I think?) POVs that has truly worked for me, and it’s a combination of really being able to connect each one to the hotel and its story, and it incorporates other characters organically before we even get their POVs—the interconnectedness was so smooth that I didn’t mind the massive amount of voices displayed.
Curtis clearly understands the cozy part of cozy sci-fi that so many people who market books as “cozy” never seem to get—the near absence of stakes. For the majority of the novel, it’s a very down-to-earth, slice-of-life kind of plot where all of the mysteries are more humorous than troubling; I mean, one of the main subplots of the first half of the novel is trying to find the culprit of an anonymous admirer leaving love letters in the lobby index. And I ate it up. It’s just so gentle!! Is the fate of the galaxy at stake? Absolutely not! The hotel staff is just getting together once a week to watch terrible movies for nostalgia’s sake!! Peak cozy sci-fi right here, folks!! There are queer and disabled characters abound (WOOHOO!!), but neither homophobia nor ableism are plot points at all! They’re just going about their lives!! This is the stuff!!
What both Curtis and Becky Chambers get right about cozy sci-fi as well is that cozy doesn’t necessarily equal apolitical. In the background, there’s plenty of discussions of imperialism with the tyrannical empire crawling with shady cloning and nepotism (take a guess at how those two things tie together…). Curtis isn’t afraid to take stabs at capitalism, environmental destruction, xenophobia (I love the subplot about the empire banning media about aliens because it would compromise the perceived superiority of the human race), and so much more over the course of the novel, and it elevates it exponentially. It emphasizes another truth (for me, at least) about cozy sci-fi, and being a gentle person in general—cozy or quiet does not equal docile or unwilling to speak out about injustice. To quote IDLES, another bastion of kindness: “Ain’t no doormats here/It doesn’t mean you have to bow, or say “Your Highness”/Just kill ’em with kindness.”
All in all, a gentle and masterful piece of cozy sci-fi, and a marked improvement from Grace Curtis’ debut. Consider my faith in her writing restored! 4 stars!
Floating Hotel is a standalone, but Grace Curtis is also the author of Frontier.
Today’s song:
am I ashamed of listening to this on repeat while writing the third book in my sci-fi trilogy? absolutely not.
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Credit & link back to the creator: Isabelle @ Nine Tale Vixen
Each book you pick should have an LGBTQIA+ main character and/or an LGBTQIA+ author. Try to include diverse books: different romantic/sexual/gender orientations, different ethnicities, etc.
Let’s begin, shall we?
🌈READ THE RAINBOW BOOK TAG🌈
RED: A book that gives you courage or is about courage
An Unkindness of Ghostsis a story of courage and resistance in circumstances that have all but walled you in—a generation ship that oppresses its lower-class passengers of color much like the antebellum South. Rivers Solomon never misses!
ORANGE: A book with a passionate/fierce protagonist
Jin-Lu from Road to Ruinis as tough as they come, but will do anything to protect the ones she loves. This novel was the perfect blend of post-apocalyptic sci-fi and fantasy!
YELLOW: A book that celebrates friendship
All of Alechia Dow’s books sparkle with themes of connection, but A Song of Salvationcenters around the friendship (and eventual romance) between its three unlikely leads! Not her best, but still a sweet book.
GREEN: A Middle Grade book and/or a book featuring kids
It’s been ages since I’ve read (or even thought about) Star-Crossed, but I’m glad I remembered it—such a sweet coming-of-age story about a bisexual girl playing a genderbent Romeo in her class production of Romeo & Juliet!
BLUE: A book which includes a wedding or an already-established LGBTQIA+ couple
I seriously think that The Heartbreak Bakeryhas the most LGBTQ+ rep I’ve ever seen in a single book—several established queer couples, and characters spanning tons of sexualities, gender identities, and ethnicities!
PURPLE: A book featuring love at first sight
The Cybernetic Tea Shopis a sweet, cozy sci-fi novella about a robot who runs a tea shop and the romance that blooms between her and a technician!
BLACK: A book centered on an antihero or villain
Off With Their Headscenters around two cunning, bloodthirsty, and vengeful characters, in an equally bloodthirsty and vengeful world loosely based on Alice in Wonderland.
BROWN: A book that celebrates family, chosen or given
Don’t let the gritty-looking title and cover fool you—Activation Degradationis one of the most emotional celebrations of found family that I’ve read all year! Highly recommend it.
LIGHT BLUE: A book about star-crossed lovers
Across a Field of Starlightfeatures a nonbinary romance that stretches across solar systems, war, and ideology.
PINK: A book as sweet as cotton candy
Just Your Local Bisexual Disasteris a lighthearted, sweet romance about a bisexual girl scrambling to find a date for her sister’s quinceañera—and sort out her messy romantic history.
WHITE: A book that isn’t focused on romance
Another piece of lovely cozy sci-fi (from the cozy sci-fi queen herself), A Psalm for the Wild-Builthas no romance, and focuses on self-discovery and friendship!
PURPLE CIRCLE: A standalone book that is perfect and complete on its own
Only This Beautiful Momentis the story of three generations of men in an Iranian family, and the interwoven threads of sexuality, trauma, and love.
RAINBOW: Free choice! Recommend any LGBTQIA+ book that you love
A Half-Built Gardenwas one of the best pieces of sci-fi that I read last year—a wonderfully nuanced and human vision of first contact, featuring a whole host of cleverly designed aliens!
I TAG ANYONE WHO WANTS TO PARTICIPATE!
Today’s song:
:,,,,,,,,,,)
That’s it for this book tag! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Here in the U.S., June is Pride Month! And every month, I find myself having a downer of an introduction, just because the world only gets kinder to queer people in the smallest increments, it seems. The vocal minority in this country are still bent on erasing all evidence that queer people exist in the first place, like an offending stain on a white tablecloth. (A note to homophobes: has it ever occurred to you that you don’t have to look at pride flags or queer couples? You can just look away and not make it anybody else’s problem…life is so short, man.) But our community is one characterized by resilience: no amount of book bans, culture wars, or bigotry will wipe us off the map. We are are here, we have always been here, and we will always be here. Nothing you do will make us disappear. Don’t let the vocal minority distract you from the beauty created and progress made by our community.
So once again, here’s a list of YA and Adult books with queer characters and themes, curated by your local bisexual. I also added the specific representation of each book.
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and if so, did you enjoy them? What are some of your favorite queer books that you’ve read in the last year? Let me know in the comments!
Today’s song:
That’s it for this year’s pride recommendations! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles! I’m back from vacation, and I’m feeling rested—and ready to review one of the books I read on my trip.
Junker Seven hung around on my TBR for about a year, and I ended up buying it on Kindle for my trip; as I’ve said ad nauseam, queer sci-fi is the stuff of life for me, so I’ll always lap it up when given the chance. Although I wish the worldbuilding (and the politics) were more creative, it was a solid tale of of love and the joy in reminding yourself that your existence is an act of resistance.
Castor Quasar makes a solitary but dangerous living as a junker, ferrying scrap—and fugitives—across the galaxy. They prefer to stay out of the business of others, whether that’s the widespread political unrest throughout the galaxy or simply making friends. But when Castor is offered a job with an exorbitant amount of money, they can’t help but be suspicious, even though the offer would mean valuable repairs for their ship—and an easier living. Their cargo is Juno Marcus, a trans activist with a target on her back and an urgent need to escape before the Intergalactic Peace Force finds her. Castor reluctantly agrees, but they soon find themself in over their head—and head over heels in love…
TW/CW: murder, loss of loved ones, transphobia, deadnaming, misgendering, ableism, police brutality
Junker Seven was by no means without its flaws, but if you’re looking for a love letter to trans love and identity, a slow-burn romance, and resistance in space, then you’ve come to the right place! Not my favorite, but this was a good book to start off pride month—unabashedly queer and political.
Structurally, there were a lot of odd worldbuilding choices (I’ll get to that later), but despite that, the world of Junker Seven felt wonderfully lived-in. The quiet moments where Castor was alone on their ship were what convinced me of this world being tangible; not everything is sleek, clean, and untouched. You never get the sense that the ship is cramped just because it was made so, but because of all of the choices that led Castor to the place they are today. It’s not just a plot device vehicle—it’s got special nooks and crannies that have been shifted over the years, and there’s a goldfish that’s been there through it all, Castor’s only constant companion. Details like this, as well as some of the pockets of resistance that Castor and Juno find throughout their journey, added a real human element to the story. Even with only two characters for most of the novel, Kelley did an excellent job of making the galaxy seem like a tangible place where humans have settled—and brought their unique ways into a new, far-future world.
If you’re looking for representation, especially trans representation, then you’re in the right place—Junker Seven has diversity in spades! Both the main character and the love interest are trans, as well as several side characters, and Castor is also disabled—they have burn scars, a prosthetic leg, and autism! The key part of said representation is that it never felt like a checklist; if the acknowledgements are any indication, Kelley’s goal was to create a resonant story of trans joy, love, and resistance, and though I’m not trans (disabled and queer, though), that love shone through; Junker Seven felt like a love letter to trans resistance all the way through, from Castor and Juno’s slowburn romance to Castor’s gradual radicalization. I love how the disability representation was handled as well! All of the details about Castor’s autism affects their job felt authentic as a neurodivergent person; no stone was left unturned, whether it was how wearing their prosthetic affected their sensory issues to how it affected their relationships. It’s clear from every page that the diversity in this novel wasn’t borne out of a need to tick off every possible marginalization—it was borne of a need to put authentic queer, trans, and disabled stories out into the world.
That being said, the worldbuilding of Junker Seven gets stranger the more I think about it. There are enough pockets that could convince you that, yes, this could be hard sci-fi that had some thought put into it, but the actual worldbuilding ends at the descriptions of the climates of the planets that Castor and Juno are hopping to and from. Other than that, the politics are the main focus, but given howpolitical this book is, I was surprised at how unoriginal it was in terms of the evolution of politics and queer resistance. Junker Seven is set several hundred years from now, and yet the politics are all but copied and pasted from the U.S. politics of today—no changes whatsoever, save for being stricter when it comes to the treatment of trans people in particular. Yes, history does tend to repeat itself in terms of treatment of the marginalized, but it’s never in the exact same way twice; technology changes, rhetoric changes, leadership changes. None of that is reflected in Junker Seven; honestly, it was familiar to such a degree that it would have worked more if it were set in a less futuristic dystopia set on Earth. This story is set so far in the future that minimal changes in language and policy just makes no sense. It would have been so much more potent—and creative, frankly—to see how the adapted technology of the future actually factored into how trans people in this universe were being oppressed. There were a few throwaway mentions of more advanced technology that was being used to surveil trans people, but that was about the extent that anything changed. It all boiled down to unused potential—there were so many opportunities to explore how (possible) aspects like advancing technology, increased policing, and advancements in genetic modification could affect the status of trans people throughout the galaxy. And yet, Kelley chose to change almost nothing about our current political climate and paste it into space—to the detriment of my suspension of disbelief. Oppression of marginalized groups remains the same in its goals, but not necessarily in its methods—those change with the times.
What also suspended my disbelief was how little we knew about Marwood save for that he was horrible. Save for being a Trump stand-in, we knew almost nothing about him, save for that a) he’s evil (Trump), b) there’s a widespread news network that’s basically his mouthpiece that he uses to demonize trans people (Fox News), and c) did I mention? He’s evil. I will give Kelley some credit for at least establishing the Zephyr News aspect and the fact that his nepotistic predecessor both ended presidential term limits and instated Marwood in a corrupt, illegitimate election so that his fascist, ultra-conservative values would live on. That, at least, felt like a reasonable enough start for a villainous character, but that was it. The key word here is start. I wouldn’t say it completely falls into the dystopian trope of “we’re not going to say anything about the government, but you have to understand. They’re BAD, guys. BAD,” but it comes rather close. This circles back to my overarching issue of unoriginal worldbuilding, but I wanted to know what separated Marwood from any other run-of-the-mill fascist—did he come from a celebrity background and had no real political experience, like Reagan or Trump, or was he a more cold and calculating type with political prowess who knows exactly how to undo any kind of progress and twist the laws in order to abuse his power? A successful, frightening villain needs to be more than an evil cardboard standup that lurks in the shadows, and we never got more than fragments to show that Marwood was more than a stand-in fascist to move the plot along. (Also, did the entire galaxy, after blending into an almost universal accent after several hundred years, universally adopt a vaguely American two-party system and government? It’s…yeah, I have trouble believing that too.)
Although the disability representation is excellent, as I said before, I did find it odd that it wasn’t a part of Castor’s radicalization; being disabled in the 21st century is already a cyberpunk dystopia as it is, so I’m surprised that there wasn’t much discussion of not just Castor’s experience with being disabled, but how it affected their work or their perception of politics. Save for a throwaway line about an autistic person being driven to a life of crime because of how poorly said autism was treated and handled, there wasn’t much rumination on it other than that. I get that the main focus of Junker Seven was trans resistance specifically, I do wish we at least got more of it than what we got. Come to think of it…as diverse as Junker Seven was, there wasn’t a whole lot of intersectionality in terms of politics. I think there was…maybe one line about race and police brutality, and that was about it? I wouldn’t say that this is inherently a flaw of the book itself, but, once again, given how unabashedly political it was, I did find it odd that there wasn’t at least a small mention of the intersection of queer/trans issues with aspects like race, class, and disability.
All in all, a solid piece of queer sci-fi which suffered from unoriginal and nonsensical worldbuilding, but was nonetheless a shining ode to queer resistance. 3.5 stars!
Junker Seven is the first of the Twin Suns duology, followed by the forthcoming sequel Rebel Rising, which is slated for release in September. Kelley has also released D3F3CT: A Twin Suns Novella, set in the same universe as Junker Seven, as well as the novellas As the Light Goes Out and A Very Lighthouse Christmas. They have also contributed to Spectrum: An Autistic Horror Anthology and the forthcoming Dead Cowpokes Don’t Wrangle: A Weird West Anthology.
Today’s song:
why, why, WHY DID I PUT OFF LISTENING TO THIS ALBUM FOR SO LONG??
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
Quick announcement before we begin: I’ll be going radio silent as far as posts go for the next week because I’ll be on vacation. See you next week!
This week: diversity win! The person who yelled “I WANNA HAVE YOUR BABIES!” at Joe Talbot during the IDLES show a few weeks back was a man! Happy pride, bibliophiles.
I think I know what my process is with liking Chappell Roan songs now: inevitably, I hear a snippet on social media and think, “oh, that’s okay,” I hear it a few more times, and then I actually like it. Somehow, I wasn’t wowed by “Red Wine Supernova” until I’d listened to snippets of it three times over the course of several months, and then, boom. It’s my 10th most listened-to song of this year. Oops. “Good Luck, Babe!” hasn’t taken that title, but nonetheless, I’ve found another song to dramatically drape myself out of windows to, and to make matters better, it’s so gay. IT’S SO GAY! CAMPY QUEER POP STARS ARE SO BACK! I’m all for leaving the ’80s (mostly) in the dust, but we need some glittery, romantic ridiculousness to shake things up now and then, right? And if the last chorus of “Red Wine Supernova” wasn’t enough to convince you, then this one will convince you that Roan has, in my limited scope, some of the best pipes in pop music right now. And, whatever, the whole “graphic design is my passion” aesthetic was kind of tired for me even before this lyric video, but for a song as red-gowned and dramatic as “Good Luck, Babe!”…we need more. We need some more visualdrama, something like The Kick Inside-era Kate Bush, minus the one-time fedora incident. The chances of Roan or any member of her team actually seeing this post are slim to none, but if they are: somebody needs to “Wuthering Heights” this shit up.
I’m choosing to believe that the combination of the glorious Grammys afterparty pig makeup for the single and the title had to be a reference to Babe, right? Some way or another? Maybe I’m reading too much into it. It’s fine. It’s cool, even…that’ll do, pig.
Something I learned a few Saturdays ago: I may be somewhat punk in spirit, but I am…not built for punk shows. Once IDLES actually came onstage, the music took me out of the grossness of the crowd, but we accidentally wandered too far into the Bro Zone™️, which was anxiety-inducing, to say the least. Love is the fing, but I’m not really feeling the love when I’m pressed up against excessively sweaty and inebriated people on almost all sides and getting conked on the shoulder with unknown objects. Ladies, gentlemen, and others: sensory issues. Also, alcohol.
But if you take anything away from that, it’s that the music took me out of the grossness. IDLES absolutely tore down the house with joyous screamers old and new alike. Even if Joe Talbot summoning the mosh vortex in the middle of the crowd made me want to go in the opposite direction (now I know how anchovies feel inside of those bait balls), he had such a command of the crowd, and not only that, but nothing but positivity to say: chants for Palestine, odes to love and connection between our fellow man, and just calls to get up on our feet and dance. And dance we did. Even just Talbot and Mark Bowen belting “All I Want For Christmas Is You” in mid-May got the crowd (myself included) going crazy. An IDLES show is, without a doubt, an experience of a lifetime. Not all of it was a good experience, per se, but none of the bad had anything to do with how loving and talented the band were all the way through.
That show made me come back to “I’m Scum,” a performance that had me jumping for joy the entire time. I’ve loved it since I discovered their 2019 Tiny Desk Concert, which is a sight to behold: here we are at said Tiny Desk, surrounded by small toys and trinkets and walled in by office decor, and Joe Talbot’s over here turning beet red and drenched with sweat while Mark Bowen, shirtless and wearing American flag leggings, is climbing onto the desk. It’s glorious. Barely contained chaos. “I’m Scum” is taken from Joy as an Act of Resistance., an album title which, before “Grace” and “love is the fing,” was the preeminent positivity slogan to sum up their aggressively kind ethos. As Talbot explained before the band launched into this song, “I’m Scum” was borne of the words of their critics—taking words like “scum” and “loser” and making them into badges of pride. More broadly, said words came from music critics who derided them, as Talbot recounted in Glastonbury in 2019, as “too fat, too old, too stupid, too ugly. Now we’ve been told we’re too good, too nice. Well this is for the critics: eat shit. This song is a celebration of just how ugly, stupid, old and ugly we are.” Never have I sung along to the lyrics “for a long, long while I’ve known I’m/dirty, rotten, filthy scum!” so loudly. Just like any given song of theirs, it’s undeniably joyous, a parade flag-waver as you skip through the streets, save for the fact that you’re yelling “SCUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM” so loud that your throat goes raw. “This snowflake’s an avalanche” is one of the most hilarious but unifying rallying cries I can think of. The more I reflect on it, the more I can say that this is one of the IDLES songs that I’ve resonated with the most. I’ve grappled with being weird in a broader sense for most of my life, but late high school and college were when I most owned it—I wasn’t concerned with how people thought of me. Now that the former stage is over, I’ve turned that confidence into getting weirder still, especially with my makeup; a friend told me that I wasn’t afraid to camouflage, and there’s nothing that I could say that sums it up better. God, I LOVE being unpalatable. I love being weird. I love being the kind of person that gets stares from the suited-up business majors across the street. I love looking like I don’t belong on this planet. And that’s when I feel most myself, when I outwardly enhance how weird I am and how weird I’ve felt. I’m lefty, I’m soft. And I LOVE being dirty, rotten, filthy SCUM if I do say so myself. Embrace the scum!
My introduction to the Cocteau Twins came right before I started making these Sunday Songs graphics, so I suppose that’s the only reason that I’ve never covered them here before. In my mind, there’s no band quite like them in the sense that the moods that they glean from me are rare in any other band. When an anonymous person put the iconic “Cherry-Coloured Funk” on the class playlist in art in my senior year of high school, I felt energized in a way that I hadn’t before—energized, but caught in the spacelike fabric of something beyond the world, like wading through cloth and stars. “Energized” isn’t the word I’d use to describe everything else I’ve heard of their catalogue—I’d lean more towards dreamlike and peaceful. The label “dream pop” is more fitting of them than any other band, save for maybe Beach House, who were no doubt influenced a great deal by them; they didn’t just pioneer the sound: they fully embody it. Every song sounds like a dream—Elizabeth Fraser’s method of lilting, nonsensical lyrics contribute to that feeling in no small part. But it’s more the atmosphere of it; somehow, they manage to replicate the feeling of waking up in the early hours of morning after waking from an unusually vivid dream, but not being able to remember it, save for how vivid it felt in the moment.
“Oomingmak” is a mist of peace that falls over your shoulders like a veil—or snow, more fittingly, a shawl woven from the crystalline fragments of snowflakes that melt the moment they make contact with your skin. There’s a simultaneous warmth and coldness to it, a watery swirl that coalesces around a glowing, amorphous radiance; this contact of warmth and chill creates the dewdrop-laden feel of the song. The effects on Robin Guthrie’s delicate lattice of guitar playing are so thin and misty that I thought they were synths—I’ve heard hardly anyone else that can make the guitar quite this delicate. You can play it delicate, sure, but this is the closest I think a guitar has ever gotten to being transparent, shiny as beads and thinner than a strand of hair. Hearing “Oomingmak” for the first time was like having a draught poured over my head, some kind of ambrosia that trickled into my eyes and mouth and induced a trancelike peace, a sense of calm that no other band I know has been able to replicate. Like dewdrops, you feel all of your earthly tethers dissolve.
And it seems the snowy, misty feel was intentional in every sense; much of Victorialand, named after the region in Antarctica, and its imagery owes to the Arctic and Antarctic regions, in no small part thanks to The Living Planet: A Portrait of the Earth, David Attenborough’s companion novel to the ’80s nature documentary of the same name. DAVID ATTENBOROUGH!! MY GUY!! Having watched The Living Planet as a kid, I love seeing that connection—and man, imagine if the ridiculous ’80s soundtrack made its way into Victorialand in any way…again, “Oomingmak” is the only track I’ve heard from this album, but I’m fully preparing myself for some Living Planet flute action. Many of the titles in particular were handpicked from passages of A Portrait of the Earth relating to the Arctic and Antarctic—I assume “Oomingmak” was one of such titles, as it’s the Inuit word for musk ox, literally translated as “the bearded one.”
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Alone Out Here – Riley Redgate – slower Cocteau Twins songs feel like the ideal soundtrack for being anxious and wandering aimlessly inside of a spaceship.
Apologies to everybody who I told that this band’s name was Gaster. Who knows how I got that into my head in the space between the IDLES opener being announced and the show itself. I guess I was only one letter off?
Either way, Ganser was a fantastic opener for IDLES—they had just the right amount of energy to pump up the crowd (although I suspect that none of the crowd needed any convincing to get pumped up) and retained the punk attitude that IDLES later blew through the roof. I later ended up searching through their catalogue for the songs in their setlist, and just ended up listening to their 2020 album Just Look At That Sky in its entirety. And I’m a fan! Not my newest obsession, or anything, but I’m so glad that IDLES exposed me to them. Although “People Watching” isn’t off of Just Look At That Sky, to me, it’s the best—or most fun, at least—representation of their sound today. Although both bassist Alicia Gaines and keyboardist Nadia Garofalo trade off on vocal duties (it’s usually a 50-50 split for lead, from what I’ve listened to), both of them have their place in the sun on “People Watching,” and both of them deliver disaffected vocals that conjure the title of their previous album, an exasperated, exhausted glance at the clouds as they inch through the blue. Gaines takes the backseat, save for a chant-like bridge, but Garofalo tends more towards a theatrical, gothic drawl as the chorus drones into a monotone lament: “Oh yeah, the world is big/And you could do better/You shake when you’re nervous/But it doesn’t matter.” It feels like what would happen if Raven from Teen Titans sat down to record a song in her bedroom, vocals and all. And yeah, nihilism is boring and silly, but at least Ganser shake that snowglobe around enough to make it gargle and glitter for three and a half minutes.
As Sophie Allison has been teasing new music (!!!!!!!!!!!) and doing a select number of intimate U.S. dates to potentially demo some of it (!!!!!!!!!!!! but nowhere near me ), I’ve been looking back at her old catalogue. “Death By Chocolate” appears on Collection, a re-recorded…collection of songs, many of which were originally self-released on Bandcamp; it originally appeared on the EP songs from my bedroom back in 2015. Like with the early Phoebe Bridgers track “Waiting Room” (which I reviewed last June), it’s a portrait of nascent talent, but still not quite out of the teenage woods just yet. Two years after initially recording “Death By Chocolate” at 18, the squirming larva of the original has been reformed into something with wings that can carry it, ready with star-shine guitar work and synths. Allison’s voice, which, at 20 and breaking free of the apparent shyness of recording demos in dorms, still has a few more hurdles to jump—this recording, even post-bedroom, feels like she’s either been mixed into submission or is just vocally holding back. But when her voice does break through, it’s as sweet and trickling as fudgy ice cream, the remnants dribbling down the corner of your lips as you dig through your sundae to find the stem of a maraschino cherry. But man…the lyrics? Thematically, it feels like the first iteration of “lucy,” with its bad boy love interest (that turns from human to, presumably, some manifestation of Lucifer or what he represents), but where “lucy” has more refinement, this has…[checks notes] “I wanna kill myself/I’m gonna go to hell/And he’s the way I’m gonna do it.” Hooooowhee… subtlety has left the building. Slow down, Juliet, just put the knife down…he can’t be all that. Lordy. Even so, it’s so teenage that it can’t not earn its place—all that angst is a part of growing up, and who am I to rag on a queen for letting it out? Gotta get it out of the system.
And just like that, we’re halfway through the year…I don’t want to jinx it, but I feel like it’s been a good one so far. Other than being sick for all of April, basically, but that’s in the past. Now the pollen allergies are kicking in!! Whee!!
Let’s begin, shall we?
GENERAL THOUGHTS:
June has been on the busier side, but in a good way, for the most part. I got my very first job as a page at my local library (!!!), and I’ll be working there part-time until school starts back up. As of today, I’ve just gotten my first paycheck!!
Right after that, I went on vacation in Olympic National Park! Washington is the prettiest—I loved seeing the rainforest and the ocean, and all of that nature really got my creative juices going.
I also went to my very first pride parade last weekend!! I only stayed for an hour to watch the parade itself (that’s on sensory issues), but it made me so incredibly happy to see my community gathered there and spreading so much joy. Unforgettable experience.
Now that I’m off school, I’ve tried to get back into my writing routine. I started on the first draft to the sequel of my main WIP. I’ve made some good progress so far, but I’m planning on taking it to Camp NaNoWriMo tomorrow! I’m shooting for the full 50,000 this time, so wish me luck!
Other than that, I’ve just been drawing, practicing guitar, seeing the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Shakey Graves live (both of which were AMAZING GAAAH) binging even more Taskmaster (just finished season 6, looking forward to seeing how unreasonably angry James Acaster gets in season 7), watching Across the Spiderverse (can’t remember the last time a movie changed my brain chemistry THIS much, so beautiful) and Asteroid City (another win from Wes Anderson), and trying not to inhale every single mote of pollen in my room. Allergy season is a real Fun Time.
READING AND BLOGGING:
I read 16 books this month! June wasn’t off to a great start (see the DNF below), but I ended up reading a ton of fun books for pride month! You’d think that vacation would’ve given me more time to read, but I ended up buying three books on my Kindle, all of which were rather chunky, so…
Here’s some queer fantasy for my last review of Pride Month 2023. I’m so glad that cozy sci-fi/fantasy as a subgenre is slowly multiplying nowadays, and that’s exactly what drew me to Flowerheart. I borrowed it from the Kindle library and ate it up in a few hours flat—though it wasn’t without its flaws, it was a charming, sweet palate-cleanser with lots of flowers and queer rep!
Clara has a gift—she can summon flowers at will, making them grow in any space she focuses on. But she’s only 16, and her flower magic is uncontrollable—and sometimes dangerous. When she accidentally causes poisonous flowers to grow in her father’s chest, Clara is distraught—and in desperate need of someone to heal his ailment and help her hone her magic. But the best magician for the job just happens to be Xavier, her former best friend who she can’t quite hide her feelings for. With Xavier hiding secrets and Clara racing against the clock, can they heal her father—and rein in her wild magic?
I love the title of this book as much as the next person, but I’m not gonna pretend that it isn’t a valid Warrior Cats name. Just saying. I’ll bet you money that it was somebody’s OC from 2014.
Flowerheart has a 3.58/5 average rating on Goodreads at present. I have a thing where I’ll see ratings in the 3.5 range and think “oooh, this could be a disappointment,” and then I’ll finish the book and realize that it was just about right on the money. It makes sense. I can see why several people loved it, but a good amount of people felt lukewarm about it or disliked it. For me, I’m sort of in the middle—it was a charming, sweet palate-cleanser, but the holes in the story and some of the writing style prevented me from enjoying it all the way.
The main selling point for Flowerheart seemed to be its coziness—setting aside the annoying, clearly BookTok marketing tactic to put “cottagecore” in the actual description, Bakewell passed with flying colors in terms of this book’s coziness! Other than a brief moment of fantasy body horror (said Flowers growing from Clara’s dad’s Heart), there’s very little that’s stressful. The book also has a strong emphasis on embracing your emotions and learning to love them (as opposed to suppressing them), which is always a win in my book (no pun intended). The queer-normative world was also a delight alongside of that—Clara is bisexual and in a straight-passing relationship, and there are several trans and nonbinary side characters! I ate this book up fairly quickly, but it was a delightful world to stay in, however short the stay was.
That being said, I really wanted more from the world. There really isn’t much to chew on other than the fact that everybody has a unique type of magic, there’s a ruling council of magicians that keeps everybody in check, and that most of the names have a vaguely European root or origin. Other than that, there was almost nothing to hold up the worldbuilding—if it were a house on stilts, the stilts might as well have been popsicle sticks. Where does the magic come from? What is the technology level of this world? Why are they letting 16-year-olds onto this magician council that makes all of the important decisions? Where even were we in the first place? Was there even a name for the place that Flowerheart was set in??? Cozy sci-fi/fantasy and expansive worldbuilding can coexist (see: anything by Becky Chambers), so the subgenre isn’t the issue. I didn’t need a huge, elaborate picture of the world of Flowerheart, but it was sadly clear that Bakewell did the bare minimum in terms of worldbuilding. I really did want more.
Aside from that, my main issue (if you can call it that) was the writing style. On its own, I liked it a lot—it had the perfect, charmingly over-the-top kind of style to it, and it suited the story very well. I saw another review that compared it to Harry Potter, and it made a lot of sense—it did sound very distinctly British. But Harry Potter is mostly middle-grade, and Flowerheart tended to skew the same way in its voice; Clara’s voice read more as a 12-14 year old than a 16 year old. Again: it’s not the coziness and relatively low stakes that made it feel more middle-grade, but the way that the characters were written. Not much of an issue, but I really feel like this would’ve been more successful if Clara was a few years younger.
All in all, a cozy fantasy that was filled with quite a few holes, but still sweet enough to enjoy. 3 stars.
Flowerheart is a standalone, but Catherine Bakewell is also the author of the middle-grade novel We Are the Song.
Today’s song:
ughhhhhh this album is so good
That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
I’ve had a few pride-related book tags that I’ve been waiting to do since last June, so I figured I’d break this one out right about now. I found this one over at The Corner of Laura, who also created the tag.
Rules
Link back to the original creator (The Corner of Laura) and link back to this page (otherwise, the original creator won’t get a notification).
Thank whoever tagged you and link back to their post
(Optional) Use the graphics and don’t forget to credit the original creator (Text prompts are at the end of the tag if you’d prefer to use those)
(Optional) Tag 5 or more other people.
Let’s begin, shall we?
🏳️🌈THE LGBTQ+ HISTORICAL ICONS BOOK TAG🏳️⚧️
SAPPHO: Greek poet known for her lyric poetry which is believed to describe homoerotic feeling | A book of poetry (or written in verse)
Nothing Burns as Bright as Youis a beautiful novel in verse about the complicated relationship shared by two Black queer girls.
ALAN TURING: Mathematician known for cracking the Enigma code but who was persecuted for his homosexuality| A character who deserved better
As sweet as The Girl from the Seawas, I found myself getting so stressed out about how Morgan treated Keltie in the beginning. She just kept pushing her around and neglecting her, and while it did resolve itself neatly and they fell in love, I still felt so bad for Keltie. She’s just an adorable creature, dude, she doesn’t need all that human baggage…
GILBERT BAKER: Creator of the rainbow Pride Flag| The most colorful book you own
Skyhunterhas one of my favorite book covers in my collection—it dazzles me every single time I look at it!
ANNE LISTER: Landowner, industrialist and considered to be the first modern lesbian| A book written as a diary (or includes diary entries)
I have fond memories of reading the copy of I Capture the Castlethat my mom bought for me while I was out sick years ago, and re-reading it several times since. It’s seriously the sweetest, most charming book—a big thank you to my mom for turning me on to this one.
MARSHA P. JOHNSON: Prominent figure in the Stonewall Uprising and founder of several LGBTQ rights organisations| A character you’d would want fighting at your side
Sona and Eris from Gearbreakersare both formidable in their own ways—either one (or both) would be an easy pick to have fight at my side.
ALFRED KINSEY: Creator of the Kinsey scale| A book set in academia
I haven’t read a whole lot of books sets in academia (and I’ve never gotten the hype for dark academia, so I tend to steer clear of those), but Leigh Bardugo never misses, so obviously this prompt has to go to Ninth House.
LUCY HICKS ANDERSON: First trans woman to defend her identity in court| A book where a major scene takes place in court
It was so hard to think of any books besides To Kill a Mockingbird (Laura’s answer) with a courtroom scene, but I read Merunot long ago, and it has a particularly climactic and poignant courtroom scene—a futuristic one, but a courtroom scene all the same.
OPEN PROMPT: Your choice | A book that inspires you
Of course, I’m going with David Bowie as my LGBTQ+ historical icon of choice—who else? He’s been a hero of mine for years, and a hero to so many. Even in the 60’s, before he rose to stardom, he was already breaking down barriers, and continued to do so in all aspects of his career thereafter. Calling somebody “ahead of their time” is thrown around quite often, but I really think that the world wasn’t ready—and wouldn’t be ready for today—for Ziggy Stardust. And personally, I can’t think of a better beacon of hope to me than him; I started getting into his music at a time when I was struggling to find my place and looking for a light at the end of the alternative weirdo tunnel. And here was Bowie, wearing dresses in the 70’s, openly declaring his bisexuality, and creating a cosmic persona that touched the hearts of so many people. I’ve certainly felt like an alien all my life, but he, if anyone, is to credit for teaching me to embrace that feeling—to quote him, “oh no, love! You’re not alone.” From one bisexual alien to another: thank you.
As for a book that inspires me, I’d easily give that title to Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers series. Sci-fi always seems defined by cosmic stakes and harrowing violence, and while that can work in moderation, these books really cemented the idea that a narrative doesn’t have to be centered around struggle or suffering to be worth reading—and writing. Here, Chambers has created a vast, creative space opera universe with complex political background noise and dozens of strange creatures, but they’re not embroiled in some lofty, intergalactic conflict: they’re just going about their lives. It’s something that almost no other piece of sci-fi media has ever done—it’s very common in realistic fiction, but the concept that happiness and healing as genuine plot points can exist alongside aliens and starships just blew my mind. I aspire to write at least one thing as comforting and cozy as Becky Chambers someday.
And remember, kids: grimdark is just as unrealistic as sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, because they represent opposite ends of the same literary spectrum. Making a book excessively dark and gritty doesn’t automatically make it deep, and giving a character an excess of trauma and a tragic backstory doesn’t automatically make them fleshed-out and well-written.
+ 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 this tag/don’t want to do it, my bad.
Today’s song:
we love a good guitar freakout
That’s it for this book tag! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!
), I’ve been looking back at her old catalogue. “Death By Chocolate” appears on Collection, a re-recorded…collection of songs, many of which were originally self-released on Bandcamp; it originally appeared on 
The Bookish Mutant 