Tag: So Lucky

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 7/27/25

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

This week: Aquarium gravel music, driving-in-the-summer music, and music that I would’ve made a badly-animated Warriors AMV for in elementary school, if I had the capabilities.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 7/27/25

“Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales” – Car Seat Headrest

Yeah, yeah. I will not shut up about the Car Seat Headrest show two weeks ago. This is a threat. Consider this me gripping the sides of your head and forcing you to look at this screen and listen to a painfully awkward gay man’s earth-shattering voice cracks. You WILL listen.

After talking about how he doesn’t play much of his old music anymore, namely that of Teens of Denial, Will Toledo said that this song was one of the more optimistic songs he’d written during that period, where he described himself as an “angry young man.” This is going to sound incredibly corny, but stay with me. I knew all the words to “Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales” for years, but it wasn’t until then that it really hit me. That’s when I knew them. Granted, I was 13 and focused more on the enigmatic wails of Will Toledo and the raw wave of emotion that swept me up in the undertow, but I never quite considered that, in the midst of an album steeped in substance abuse, self-hatred, and depression, that this is a much more optimistic outlook on it all. (Speaking of said substance abuse, I really think that listening to Teens of Denial so much when I was younger was unironically very good drug prevention for me. Sure, a good 50-75% of their songs up to 2016 are about drinking and drugs, but they’re all about just how deeply miserable Toledo was while drinking and doing drugs. They need to implement this album in schools instead of D.A.R.E.) I wouldn’t be surprised if “Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales” was the last song of the album written; it takes a more retrospective look at the cycle of self-hatred and bad decisions that color Teens of Denial as a whole, and it offers a knowing look, a hug, and a rallying cry: “It doesn’t have to be like this.” From the outside looking in, Toledo looks at the wreckage of everything he’s done up to this point, and professes this to his own anxieties:

“Here’s that voice in your head/Giving you shit again/But you know he loves you/And he doesn’t mean to cause you pain/Please listen to him/It’s not too late/Turn off the engine/Get out of the car/And start to walk.”

GOD. OW. That’s another way homer. I suppose it’s taken years for it to hit me like it was likely intended to, but that’s probably for the best. I think of recent times, when I was so wrapped up in my own anxiety that I didn’t even realize that I could make the choice to work with it, to create a life for myself that would result in me being a happier, healthier person. I’m still on that road. Every day, it’s a little more effort. But it’s all worth it, brick by brick. As Toledo says, “But if we learn how to live like this/Maybe we can learn how to start again/Like a child who’s never done wrong/Who hasn’t taken that first step.” The power is always in your hands, whether you realize it or not. You can’t make every negative thing in your life disappear into thin air, but you can make those choices, take control of the wheel and start to steer your life in a better direction. It takes a monumental, gradual effort, but IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS. It never does. Looking back to a year ago, I can’t be more proud of myself for taking that leap, of leaning into my support system to try little by little to end the cycle of anxiety that I was falling into. This song couldn’t have come back to me at a better time. You can always learn to start again.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Seep – Chana Porter – learning to break free of a state of societal complacency in disguise as betterment, and learning to live with grief, love, and every other complicated emotion.

“Stay” – Shakespears Sister

There’s a brief window in every decade where the signature sounds haven’t yet been cemented. It’s a limbo that allows for the final bastions of the last decade’s sound to grab ahold. This song comes to mind, because this is quite possibly the most ’80s song of the ’90s.

My mom knew exactly what she was doing when she played this for me. I feel like I was around 8 or 9 when she first played it for me. I wished I remembered more of the specifics, because I definitely had some kind of elaborate Warrior Cats AMV planned in my head set to this, but I remember just being so enraptured. It was one of those songs that instantly marked its place in my memory: I was in the backseat of the car, at a gas station, and the sky was overcast, and I’d just had a revelation. My mom and I are definitely interlinked at critical points in my music history, and the more I think about it, “Stay” was absolutely one of them. Like…how did I not know that the album was called Hormonally Yours? I mean, what else is there to say other than fuck yea, that’s an album title??

“Stay” is pure drama, and as over-the-top and gloriously camp as it is, in the right amount, that’s my absolute catnip. Funny that I should mention catnip, because despite the ubiquitous lyrics, it was meant to be part of a concept album, all based around [checks notes] this ’50s sci-fi movie called Cat-Women of the Moon. (Hence this song.) “Stay” was intended to be about the love story between one of said Cat-Women and one of the human male crew members of the ship to the moon, with Marcella Detroit being the Cat-Woman in love and Siobhan Fahey taking the part of, one of the other Cat-Women who shuns their romance. Despite Shakespear’s Sister not being able to execute the concept album as they wanted to, “Stay” retains the high drama and yearning present in the original idea. Over-the-top as it is, I can’t help but be enraptured by it, the same way that I was when I was a little kid. The dueling voices of Detroit and Fahey craft a story of operatic proportions, cranking the yearning up to 11.

Even though the Cat-Women of the Moon never saw the light of day, what did survive is glorious—namely the music video for “Stay.” Instead, we’ve got a vague sci-fi setting, where Detroit is doting over a comatose man, and Fahey is Death tempting the man to come to the other side, complete with a star crown and some absolute Harley Quinn crazy eyes. It’s so camp. God, I love it.

Jenny Joyce could never.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Death’s Country – R.M. Romero – I’m aligning more with the music video interpretation here, but what’s more high drama than going into the underworld to save your girlfriend from the brink of death?

“Re-Hash” – Gorillaz

Nothing like a great pop song about how much pop music sucks.

Gorillaz, at least in the early days, was a study in artificiality. The project famously came about because Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett had been watching a lot of reality TV and hearing the much more manufactured aspect of pop music at the time (“It’s the sweet sensation over the dub/A one-off situation that don’t wanna stop”), and wondered if they could take it to the extreme: an entirely artificial band. In a way, “Re-Hash” was them slyly taking a shot at what Albarn viewed to be the state of pop music at the time, before blowing it out of the water and making the most artful indie-pop music possible. That first album is almost a no-skip album, and there’s no shortage of tracks that I constantly revisit. I hadn’t listened to “Re-Hash” in quite some time, and I’d forgotten just how incredible of an opener it is. Admittedly, my association with their self-titled album will always be of summer, since I’m pretty sure I first listened to it in July or August back in high school, but everything about “Re-Hash” is soaked in sunshine, with a combination of acoustic guitars mixed with drum machines that begs for a rolled down window. That Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-aaaaah repetition towards the last third of the song is just infectious—without a doubt, a very recent holdover the more playful side of Blur’s discography. What a propulsive start to such an iconic album.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Hammajang Luck – Makana Yamamoto – I’m going more off of vibes and atmosphere than lyrics, but this would fit right in with the more lighthearted sides of Yamamoto’s sci-fi world.

“Miami” – Cate Le Bon

Oh my god, CATE LE BON!! Reward is an excellent album as a whole—I’d say that it’s just about equal to Pompeii as far as consistency, creativity, and the uniqueness of the soundscape. Although she’d begun to transition into the more synth-dominated part of her sound here, Reward has a more naturalistic feel to it. Even if the album cover didn’t have her bent over, walking over the contours of a time-worn cliff against an overcast sky, it has this inherent aura to it that feels like having the wind toss your hair as you walk along a pebbly beach as a storm brewing in the distance. The comparison that jumped out immediately to me was Damon Albarn’s The Nearer the Fountain, the More Pure the Stream Flows, an album with similarly rocky shore imagery on the album cover and throughout the lyrics. I wouldn’t expect such a feeling to brew in me from an album dominated by artsy brass and woodwinds and synth in equal measure (lots of great clarinet and saxophone action here, similar to Albarn).

In my exploration into her music, I’ve found a constant in Cate Le Bon’s more recent work: she’s damn good at making an opening track (see also: “Dirt on the Bed”). “Miami” sounds like being in a goldfish bowl. The bright, percussive synths in the background bubble like an aquarium filter, while others sound like water sliding against glass. Some of the more recognizable percussion hushes like aquarium gravel crunching in the palm of your hand. It’s all so strangely aquatic, even with the steady blast of saxophones in the background. It honestly feels far more appealing than the actual Miami, but then again, my only experience of Miami was a grotty hotel, so maybe that’s my overall Florida bias. But I’d be hard-pressed to think of a song on Reward that’s better suited to open up Le Bon’s peacefully avant-garde soundscape than this one. It lulls you into a state of calm while enticing you forward with breadcrumbs of her signature, off-kilter charm. The lilt of her voice is as much an element of the ecosystem as the brass or the synths; if anything, it’s the goldfish in this metaphor, her voice like the smooth, effortless flap of fins underwater.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

A Letter to the Luminous Deep – Sylvie Cathrall – a gentle and tender dispatch from a submerged world.

“You’re Damaged” – Waxahatchee

For all intents and purposes, I really should be into Waxahatchee. Stylistically, she’s often grouped in the company of Snail Mail, Adrianne Lenker, and Soccer Mommy, which should be a massive red cape to my sad indie rock bull. (In fact, my reigning association with her is this one tweet that reads “I would personally be afraid of snail mail because she’s friends with waxahatchee and waxahatchee looks like she open carries”) But the main thing that keeps me from enjoying her most of the time is her voice. It’s fully just personal preference, and I’m sure she’s very talented, but Waxahatchee feels like proof that singing in cursive isn’t exclusive to pop music. Please!! Sing without over-enunciating everything!! My god!!

Thankfully, there are exceptions to the rule. “You’re Damaged” fits snugly into the indie rock that I usually love, with Katie Crutchfield’s sparse, bare vocals. Here, her voice soars, free of expectations, dipping deftly from hard to soft as she runs circles around memories of a broken relationship: “And no I can not see into the future/No I cannot breathe underwater/Bit your last word, I call out to you/This place is vile, and I’m vile too.” It mirrors the album cover of Cerulean Salt, where Crutchfield is blurry and submerged underwater, her face obscured by her own hair and the ripples of the water; rambling through the misty glass shards of memory, she struggles to break away from an unhealthy relationship when she’s just as unhealthy as the other part, wanting them when everything around her screams for her to do the opposite. It’s the kind of song that only a raw voice and an acoustic guitar can capture, and it does so hauntingly.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Desert Echoes – Abdi Nazemian – “And no I can not see into the future/No I cannot breathe underwater/Bit your last word, I Call out to you/This place is vile, and I’m vile too…”

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

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

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 5/25/25

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

This week: it’s all a trick question. I saw St. Vincent last week, but did she play the song I’m writing about this week? No. Did she play the David Bowie song I’m writing about this week, though?

…yup.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 5/25/25

“Heartthrob” – Indigo De Souza

Two years on the heels of All of This Will End (I say that like I’ve listened to it…I’ve listened to about half? Good stuff, though), Indigo De Souza is back with a new album out this summer, Precipice. I don’t know if I’m committed enough to listen immediately (I might go for Any Shape You Take first). To be honest, after briefly hearing whatever the hell that disastrous, autotuned misfire that was WHOLESOME EVIL FANTASY, I was hesitant to see what De Souza had done next. Thankfully, it was far from that. The album cover’s gorgeous, too—the naked skull creature is having its beach episode!

As cheesy as the music video is, “Heartthrob” seems for all the world to be a moment of healing for De Souza, and I’m so happy for her. The chorus of “I really put my back into it” describes the throttle of this track, a more pop-rock offering with trembling vocals but no shortage of determination. The pre-chorus describing De Souza’s experiences of abuse are jarring against the otherwise sunny, bubbly feel of the track, and yet that’s the point; De Souza said that they wrote the song about “process[ing] something that is often hard to talk about—the harmful ways I’ve been taken advantage of in my physical memory. ‘Heartthrob’ is about harnessing anger, and turning it into something powerful and embodied. It’s about taking back my body and my experience. It’s a big fuck you to the abusers of the world.” That passion radiates through every inch of the track through wavering warble and cheerleader-like shout, which De Souza delivers in equal measure. More than anything, “Heartthrob” feels like a release, an outpouring of joy, anger, and passion, a bubbling bottle uncorked. I can’t help but love the rallying cry of “I really put my back into it”—maybe it’s not my favorite song in the world, but for all of the unoriginality plaguing our landscape, it’s refreshing to see people like them pouring it all into their art.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Luis Ortega Survival Club – Sonora Reyes – A story of feminist resistance and reclaiming your body and identity in the face of abuse.

“Oh My God” – St. Vincent

I had the absolute privilege of seeing St. Vincent for a second time last week. I know I’m obsessed, but it was seriously breathtaking—the setlist was incredible, her stage presence was so captivating, and her guitar playing always knocks me off my feet. I was right near the third row, and I nearly had a heart attack when she started crowdsurfing during “New York”…never thought I’d find myself getting choked up by that song (it’s nowhere near my favorite), but to be so close to her and in the presence of so much love and togetherness began to heal a part of me, if only for a night. Sure, the loungy rendition of “Candy Darling” she did at the end was a bit of a misfire, but if that was the worst part of the night, then it was a concert I’ll never forget.

So without further ado, here’s a song that…she didn’t play, and I suspect that she probably won’t revive unless she willingly goes into her deep cuts. A bonus track from Actor that was also released along with the “Marrow” single (which she did play that night and absolutely annihilated), its deceptively quiet intro hides a suppressed, roiling storm. Like much of Actor, it hides dread and unpleasantness beneath a veneer of delicate woodwinds and finger-picking, but conceals a spreading rot beneath it. The dread veers into focus with Annie Clark’s chorus of “‘Cause when the drink goes in/The devil comes out” after detailing all of the dishes gone without washing and the bathwater gone cold while she’s still in it. A faintly “Via Chicago”-like drum fill patters as the chorus grows in intensity, a chanting of “Oh my god” that never loses its delicacy but turns more from an indifferent remark to a quietly horrified exclamation, as though she sees the landscape of dying houseplants and unmade beds before her. Given that this was a bonus track, it seems that even then, this was a time that Clark wasn’t keen on returning to, but I do find some comfort in the fact that presumably, given that there’s around 16 years behind it, this is something that Clark has deliberately put in the past; MASSEDUCTION saw her dealing with substance abuse and other issues more upfront, but even that’s an era that seems behind her, even if All Born Screaming found her in a darker but seemingly different headspace. I’m glad that she was able to exorcise “Oh My God”—sometimes, you have to extricate those things from your life, but hiding the track in plain sight seems a strategic way to not return to a time you’re not keen on revisiting.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

So Lucky – Nicola Griffith – “Oh My God” matches the dread of the protagonist, Mara, picking the pieces of her life after losing everything, as well as the lingering feeling that her life is in danger—from herself and from outside forces.

“Cry for Me” – Magdalena Bay

Everything I’ve heard about Imaginal Disk has been nothing short of worship: album of the year (2024), modern classic, cult classic…the list goes on. Imaginal Disk feels inherently tied to hype for me, even though I’ve only heard this song. Again, outsider perspective, Magdalena Bay just seemed to spring up out of nowhere. Before this, I’d only heard a handful of reviews several years ago, a remix they did of Soccer Mommy’s “Shotgun” (not a huge fan, honestly) and this interview they did with Stereogum ahead of Imaginal Disk talking about how much they love the weird CGI in the music video for Peter Gabriel’s “Steam” (which, honestly, so based of them. They really just said “let’s dress Peter up like Jack Nicholson’s Joker and then put his face on as many objects as possible. I don’t care if they’re ungodly cursed.” I love it so much.). There’s also a concept and a narrative I’m missing here—something about a person rejecting some sort of disk put into their head by aliens?—but I’ll do my best.

I was floundering for comparisons for “Cry for Me” at first, but then it hit me. Imagine if the Cardigans had access to 21st century technology in the ’90s, and then imagine them taking that and making some kind of weird disco. They’ve got their uber-’70s violin piano flourishes and bass lines paired with the most modern-sounding, cinematic synths. What’s cooked up is bizarrely good—the at first disparate contrast of Mica Tennenbaum’s air-light voice and the oily chrome of the synths makes for something that works together in surprising harmony. The disco bit sometimes veers into too much for me, but I can’t deny how deliciously catchy “Cry for Me” is—the song’s title is uttered like a seductive plea to cross into a world where everything is glittering and perfect, but once you bite into the fruits, the venom starts pumping through your veins. The crunching, bubbling shift in synths at the 2:00 mark make you feel like you’ve turned a corner on some kind of theme park ride—into what, you’re not sure. For the rowers keep on rowing, and they’re certainly not showing any signs that they are slowing…

BONUS: who the fuck let a keytar in the—oh, okay. Just this once. I’ll allow it. Maaaaaaybe. Magdalena Bay recently covered “Ashes to Ashes” on Triple J, and even though it’s up there with my favorite Bowie tracks, they clearly get how weird of a song it is:

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Drunk on All Your Strange New Words – Eddie Robson – again, I’m not entirely clear on the concept, but if you want alien revelations with unintended side effects, look no further…

“Flowers on the Wall” – The Statler Brothers

Sometimes you remember certain songs at times that are too perfect for words.

“Last night, I dressed in tails pretending I was on the town/As long as I can dream, it’s hard to slow this swinger down/So please don’t give a thought to me, I’m really doing fine/You can always find me here and having quite a time…”

Depression, self-isolation, and making up scenarios transcends time, but getting this song absolutely hooked in my head while I was about a month into lockdown had to be divine intervention. Or something. Minus the more ’60s language, this could’ve been the contents of a long-distance FaceTime call right smack in the middle of 2020. I have a specific memory, give or take five years to the day (I’m just glad I can put some distance from it) of hearing nothing but this song in my head while I was supposed to be recalling something or other about U.S. History for the APUSH exam…a single essay question that I did on my laptop in my bedroom. (Don’t worry, I got a 4. I wasn’t really in dire straits.) Yes, feelings aren’t inherently attached to history, but “Flowers On the Wall” bottled something so succinctly and charmingly. Once it invited itself into my shuffle after years of not thinking about it, that feeling never went away—in a good way. Despite being so pandemic-feeling it never got sullied by it. I’ve never been one for this almost hokier country sound, but it fits the kind of exaggerated state that the narrator’s in—it’s exactly how I’d expect the inner voice of someone who spends their days playing solitaire and dressing up in a tux, never once leaving the house. It’s the catchiest song about extensively denying that you need to touch grass. Truly timeless.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Ministry of Time – Kailene Bradley – what else is there to do when you’re [checks notes] a time-displaced polar explorer from the 1840’s who really shouldn’t leave the (21st century) house?

“DJ” – David Bowie

Diversity win! Bowie is breaking his and her heart!

“DJ” has been on the brain because, back to St. Vincent, they played this song not once but twice before she came onstage. Taste, especially from someone who has said that there’s no one she’d put above Bowie.

From Lodger, “DJ” retains some of the theatricality of his glam days, but well past the Ziggy Stardust days. He’s long shed that persona, as well as the abysmal leanings and drugs of the Thin White Duke, closing out the Berlin Trilogy with a slicker flourish that led into the ’80s (see: “Boys Keep Swinging”). It’s got a critical, sardonic eye that he retained from his earlier ’70s songwriting, magnifying the role of a DJ who becomes so swallowed in his career that he becomes it: “I am the DJ/I am what I play/I’ve got believers/Believing me.” According to Bowie, it was his take on the disco culture that had overtaken the ’70s: speaking to Melody Maker, he said, “The DJ is the one who is having ulcers now, not the executives, because if you do the unthinkable thing of putting a record on in a disco not in time, that’s it. If you have thirty seconds silence, your whole career is over.” Yet it’s so easy to see the through line back to himself—persona or not, you don’t have to chip away at much to find the one true Bowie within.

Even if “DJ” didn’t also spell out David Jones’ initials, this fear of becoming inextricable from his music and celebrity was a constant fear of his in the 1970s. 1979 saw Bowie recovering from his devastating cocaine addiction, and that almost-separation from it makes “DJ” feel like a less fatalistic version of “Cracked Actor,” in which he saw his future self as a washed-out, middle-aged actor relying on his past fame to pay the bills.”DJ” sees him inching away from “Forget that I’m 50/’Cause I just got paid” territory, but no less critical—and almost fearful—of being on the precipice of losing his career thanks to one less hit and being seen only as a vessel for the music. In the music video, he’s passed around by fans in the middle of the street; some hug him and seem to make genuine conversation, while others simply try to give him a kiss on the cheek (BRO?? not to get all gen z with it, but did he WANT that??). It’s all at once tenderly human and a little eery watching him weave through the crowd, some seeing a human, others seeing a celebrity. No matter the disaffected sarcasm in his words and lyricism, Bowie’s always there.

As for the music video…I don’t think there’s really any bad Bowie videos I can think of, and even the really bad ones are at least hilarious. But this one seems to fall on the wayside, and I don’t see why! The way that Bowie drapes himself down the blue shutters, the demolishing of the DJ equipment, the proto-Trait pink boiler suit/gas mask combination…he could work anything. Well…okay, definitely not this. Almost anything.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Death of the Author – Nnedi Okorafor – another work about the line between the author, their work, and how the two are interconnected, no matter the perceived separations (and the complications that arise from it).

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

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

Posted in Books

♿️ The Bookish Mutant’s Books for Disability Pride Month – 2024 Edition ♿️

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Monday, bibliophiles!

Here in the U.S., July is Disability Pride Month! In the three years that I’ve been making these lists, disability is still forgotten even in many intersectional feminist circles, and the importance for uplifting the disabled community has never been more important than know, what with the fallout of the COVID-19 pandemic, where disabled people, especially those who are immunocompromised, were disproportionately affected. Every year, even though I look in as many places as I can, it’s difficult for me to find books with disabled stories at the forefront that don’t center suffering or being “inspiring.” (As of now, I have only ever read one book with my disability, SPD, and heard of only one other. Inspiration for me to write my own stories…) So with these lists, I hope to provide disabled books with a wide range of representation, both in terms of disability and in the intersection of race, gender, and sexuality.

NOTE: my memory (and the internet) is imperfect, so if I’ve misrepresented/mislabeled any of the specific rep in these books, don’t hesitate to let me know!

KEY FOR TERMS IN THIS POST:

  • MC: Main character
  • LI: Love interest
  • SC: Side character

For my previous lists, click below:

Let’s begin, shall we?

♿️THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR DISABILITY PRIDE MONTH (2024 EDITION)♿️

FANTASY:

SCIENCE FICTION:

REALISTIC FICTION:

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 books with disabled rep? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

this song makes me SO so incredibly happy!! thank you to Horsegirl for recommending it!!

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

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 6/16/24

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

First off: happy Father’s Day to my incredible dad! Not only are you such a wonderful role model for being a genuinely kind, accepting, and truly empathetic person, you’ve given me the gift of sharing music—what these posts are all about. To be able to share music with you back brings me all the joy in the world. I love you.

This week: 🚨SOCCER MOMMY HAS COME TO SAVE THE SECOND HALF OF 2024, THIS IS NOT A DRILL🚨

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 6/16/24

“Lost” – Soccer Mommy

SOCCER MOMMY RETURNS!!! Given the short tour (that’s nowhere near me……..no, I’m totally not mad, no way) that she’s currently embarking on to support some of this new material, there’s a fourth album (sixth, counting the self-released albums) on the horizon, and hopefully on a happier date. Poor thing. I still haven’t gotten over the fact that her last album, Sometimes, Forever, was unintentionally released on the day that Roe v. Wade was overturned. Jesus.

Something that I’ve admired over the years about Soccer Mommy is her willingness to experiment with her production. At their core, her songs have never changed their essence: honest, tender confessions of the trials of heartbreak, grief, and mental health. But the dressing is never the same twice, from color theory’s color-coded tonal shifts and synth-dusted melodies to the darker, more distorted soundscape of Sometimes, Forever. With the latter, Chelsea Wolfe wasn’t somebody that I’d readily compare to Soccer Mommy, but then she comes along with “Unholy Affliction,” and the comparison, at least on that track, is as clear as day. Just when you think she’s playing it safe, she comes out of nowhere with instrumentation that you’d never imagine attributed to her name—and almost every time, it still feels like nothing but Sophie Allison. There’s a boldness to her that’s rare in the genre; there is an expectation of sameness in the kind of indie circles she’s in, an expectation to box yourself into the image that the record label deems as “authentic” in order to stay in their good graces—and the good graces of fans who cling to their raw lyrics. Julien Baker, although her first two albums adhered to that, took a similar leap with Little Oblivions, and that, for me, was her best album to date.

But Soccer Mommy can’t help but be herself. “Lost” strays nearer to some of her sparer, more traditionally indie roots, but with production that feels spun from silk; inside of the glowing cocoon where Allison resides, threads of synth, birdsong, and yearning strings coalesce in what can only be described as the musical form of a grainy polaroid, a sunset tinged with ink, film, and bygone memories. Bygone memories, like much of her other material, is at the core of “Lost,” specifically bygone memories of those bygone. Given the trajectory of “yellow is the color of her eyes,” some have speculated that “Lost” is about her mother’s death, although Allison has chosen to not disclose the subject. whatever the case, I’m glad that Soccer Mommy doesn’t have the kind of rabid Swiftie fanbase that would relentlessly strip away at the press and at Allison herself to get to the bottom of who she’s mourning, because…that’s her own business, dammit. I’m glad us…whatever Soccer Mommy fans are called (does this fanbase have a name?) have the heart to give a human being space to breathe, because, judging from the lyrics (and all of color theory, frankly), Allison needs it. “Lost” distills grief in the truths of the cliche that every movie seems to repeat about grief: “I wish I’d had more time.” Most media leans on that universal kernel to hold the weight of such a complex, unmappable sensation, but Allison scratches at its heart; her grief rests not just in tangible objects, but in the reminders of the time never spent: “I’ve got a way/Of keeping her with me where I go/But how she feels, I’ll never know/It’s lost to me.” The pain of this track is in the insurmountable truth of never being able to fully know a person; of course you can never fully, truly know a person beyond yourself, but grief exacerbates that unsurmountable summit—even if you tell yourself that you could be a cartographer of a brain outside your own, that chance has all but slipped through your fingers. Grief has unrealistic expectations of you; in its throes, it tells you that you could have made up for all of the missed regrets in your lifetime, and that’s half of the knife in your gut. Half of the pain isn’t what didn’t happen, but what can’t happen, even in the alternate reality it presents. When she repeats “If I had another chance/I’d ask her then,” it doesn’t feel like a throwaway from a stale funeral in the MCU—it feels like the testimony of something still putting down the compass and fountain pen, knowing that this expedition was doomed from the start.

So, what, you ask, might us sad girls do while we wait for Soccer Mommy’s fourth LP, which will inevitably destroy us? Watch Allison and fellow storied sad girl Phoebe Bridgers unite to cover Elliott Smith:

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Only This Beautiful Moment – Abdi Nazemian – breaching generational lines to form an understanding of heritage, sexuality, and family.

“Drinking Song” – Haley Heynderickx

Contrary to the song title, Haley Heynderickx is (probably) not responsible for the kind of song that old men will sing in a pub while drunk for generations to come. I mean, that could be a possibility in some alternate universe. I’d like to see that. It’d make for an odd movie scene—nothing about this universe has changed, but instead of old Irish ballads, there’s a pub full of swaying people singing late-2010’s indie rock.

With a title like “Drinking Song,” I fully expected this song to be the prequel to “Oom Sha La La,” a telling of the period where “The milk [was] sour/I’ve barely been to college/And I’ve been doubtful/Of all that I have dreamed of.” Contrary to that, “Drinking Song” is a soft-spoken but resolute declaration of hope, delivered out a summer window while the crickets sing. Any darkness is the shroud of night, and all of the stars seem to bear witness to a constitution of better days to come: “And the edge of the world makes it seem/That everyone gone is still singing the same song/And I can believe in these things/That everyone’s singing along/The good and the bad and the gone.” There’s a kind of childlike optimism to the openness of Heynderickx’s declaration, but one with roots strong enough to hold it; with each repetition of “there’s a light at the end that I know,” that glow, like The Great Gatsby’s green light, pulses with more intensity with each incantation, until it becomes a portal to better times. It’s the opposite of negative overthinking; this song overflows with future vignettes of new cities to explore and new lovers to embrace, all held within the space of the back of your mind. “Drinking Song” is a snow globe containing every good future—all is too small to comprehend in the here and now, but with a little luck, you can hold them in your hands and watch them unfold before you.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Sea Change – Gina Chung – holding onto hope in a time of lovelessness and isolation.

“Bad Form” – Ganser

I like plenty of bands and artists whose catalogue consists of one or two songs tops (see: Wet Leg, Suki Waterhouse, etc.). What distinguishes said bands, for me, is that they’ve made a career out of making those two songs worth your time—they may only be two songs, but they play them well. Sure, “I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams” may be one of Weezer’s one, maybe two songs (and even that’s generous), but it’s such a bright and shining piece of machinery that you can’t help but gaze at said one song and know that, yeah, it may be the same song they’ve been peddling since 1994, but it’s one fantastic song.

The more I listen to Ganser, the more I realize that they fall into that camp. I hate to say that every time, but like I said, it’s not always an insult. Although they do have a good amount of deviation here and there, most of Just Look At That Sky, as much as I enjoyed it, is the same three off-kilter, drawled post-punk songs about being numb, exhausted, and angry, or some combination of the three. They’ve got a brand. Ganser, for me, stands out in that their three songs sound different enough from any given song that you can excuse them for relative lack of variety. None of their chords ever align pleasantly—it’s abrasive, grating, and honestly? Fun. As with “People Watching” (which I reviewed at the beginning of the month), Ganser makes the kind of punk that’s aware of how punk it sounds, and they lean into every inch of theatricality with their bleary-eyed drawls and itchy, buzz-saw guitar riffs, fuzzy and stinging like staring straight at the sun—just as like the climax of “Bad Form.” Ganser is a band that’s not afraid to make music that scratches your skin like un-filed, bitten nails, and if that’s their three songs, then three cheers for making three songs that are bold enough to sound unappealing.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Ten Low (The Facts Sequence, #1) – Stark Holborn – “I’m the other man/I’ll take the medicine/The room spins like a feather/Folding over and over…”

“Transatlanticism” – Death Cab for Cutie

I was first introduced to “Transatlanticism” when I was about 12 or 13. A few months after the first listen (and being irreparably entranced), I had an internship at a local flower shop, where the owner had Sirius XMU playing. This song came on at some point, and I’ll never forget the deeply concerned look she gave me when I told her, in the most 13-year-old way possible, how much I “loooooooooooved” this song. She was entirely justified.

Another thing that music criticism does that I’ve never understood: categorizing Death Cab for Cutie as emo. If I suspend my disbelief enough, I can see the basis being in the whine in Ben Gibbard’s voice, especially when he performs live, and the dramatic emotion is there, but…in what world does Death Cab for Cutie belong in the same breath as My Chemical Romance? Really? I could almost see them being the middle ground between emo and indie, with some of the lingering whine and drama, but the key with selling drama is what has always lost me with most emo music: it actually feels authentic. Never once does Gibbard sound like a suburban teenage boy who’s just discovered heartbreak and black eyeliner in one fell swoop. The whine, although it can fit into some of said teenage boy sensibilities (see: “We Looked Like Giants”), just seems more of a product of Gibbard’s natural range than it does a forced vehicle for airbrushed angst.

In theory, “Transatlanticism” fails my test of withstanding a long song; most of the time, in order for a long song to hold enough water past around the six minute mark, there has to be at least some sort of shift, whether that’s tonal, lyrical, or instrumental; it’s why “Cop Shoot Cop” by Spiritualized really feels like it’s over 17 minutes long, with its largely extended sleepwalk of monotony, whereas Nina Simone’s ten minute epic “Sinnerman” has the fervor and gusto, as well as an act structure similar to classical pieces, is a nail-biting journey that never lets go of your shirt collar. (To be fair to J. Spaceman, my guess is that the tedium is the intended effect, seeing as it’s about how his heroin addiction all but made him into a dead man walking. Knowing him, it’s fully intentional.) However, there’s songs like Blur’s “Tender”—nearly eight minutes long and without much change—that have the pure, undiluted heart to keep its sails billowing. You feel everything—it’s an IV drip straight through to the sparest, most instinctual emotions, heart-wrenching in its delicately-crafted simplicity. “Transatlanticism” takes a trick out of that same book; until the last third, all that accompanies Gibbard’s thinning, tender lament is about four piano chords, played over and over with a purposeful negative space between them. Come to think of it, negative space is exactly why “Transatlanticism” works so well. Transatlanticism as a whole is a concept album about long-distance relationships, and even without the lyrics, crushing as they are, you can sense the abyssal gulf cutting down the middle of this song. At the four-minute mark, after Gibbard has finished with the first repetition of “I need you so much closer,” a full minute passes of a single, instrumental strain: those same four chords, a spare guitar lick, and tiny tendrils of synth that faintly moan and rattle like dying machinery, as if trying to conceal their death rattles without bothering anyone. Transatlancism was aided with Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies cards, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they drew the same cards that produced Bowie’s “Sense of Doubt”—”emphasize difference” and “try to make everything as similar as possible.”

The difference, in this case, is a shift in lyrical style; It’s all but silent compared to the lyrics in the first half, but that silence conveys the feeling of separation, of having a strand of your soul stretched across an ocean and not being able to see who’s on the other shore, just as heartbreakingly as words do. After Gibbard’s lament (“The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your door/Have been silenced forevermore/The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row/It seems farther than ever before”), the exhaustion of sorrow leaves you with no strength to do anything but stare into the canyon wrought by distance, too far to even touch fingertips over. Simplicity is what kills me about this song; after that instrumental break, Gibbard repeats the “I need you so much closer” refrain, only to transform it to “I need you so much closer…so come on.” When all of the poetry’s drained, sometimes the most sparing lyricism destroys me. The ocean has spread its impossible distance before you, and all you can do is stare as far as you can, towards the bottom, with only the most baseline instincts of longing to keep you company. It’s such an artful buildup and approach to portraying such deep yearning—you feel that negative space as a tangible barrier. See what I mean about Death Cab for Cutie making their angst authentic? “Transatlanticism” hits me like a goddamn steam train every time without fail. Ow, dude, who kidnapped me and abandoned me in the onion-cutting factory?

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Aurora’s End (The Aurora Cycle, #3) – Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff – ow oof ow ouchie ow ow ow somebody hold me

“Country Sad Ballad Man” – Blur

And now, “Song 3.”

Blur’s self-titled album [slides Anthony Fantano glasses up bridge of nose] is an exercise in becoming the very thing you swore to destroy. After years of being right smack in the middle of the spotlight, participating in a manufactured battle of the bands, and pushing their mutual abuse of multiple substances to the edge, the band collectively decided that a change needed to be made. They packed their bags, temporarily relocated to Iceland, and hammered out a new album. The result was Blur, which had a much dingier, edgier, and altogether harder sound, with a lead single that famously parodied grunge, but then…circled around to being a smash success and an enduring stadium classic. That’s another story. (I’ll give you a hint: wooooooooohoo!) Yet, as much as they poked fun at American grunge, in all of its nihilistic, self-deprecating time in the sun, they slipped straight into the lifestyle, shedding their Britpop gloss for aggressive, alternative guitar, stubble, and, to the detriment of the whole band, excessive abuse of alcohol and heroin (see: “Beetlebum”).

Though the drug use is lamentable (to say the least), as all of the band members now agree, it was their mutual exhaustion and anger at being put through the British media meat grinder that allowed for such a hard—and delicious—left turn. On the verge of snapping, the band decided to put Parklife behind them and get grungy. It was bound to happen eventually, what with Graham Coxon’s adoration for the American alternative scene and the guitar sounds they were producing (should’ve listened to him earlier on that one…). Blur is all but absent of a bad track, crashing with the equivalent of a drum set tossed through a window one minute (“Chinese Bombs”) and slipping into acoustic melancholia in the next (“You’re So Great”). But “Country Sad Ballad Man,” for me, is a highlight I find myself sniffing out every six months or so. With one of the drier and more self-explanatory titles, this track feels like food left to rot out in a heatwave, festering and twangy. Every other lyric finds Damon Albarn stretching his voice into a creaky, scratching highs, as though mocking his own state of lying squarely at rock-bottom: “I haven’t felt my legs/Since the summer/And I don’t call my friends/Forgot their numbers.” The strings on Alex James’ upright bass come loose and unsteady, as though a few more takes of this song would’ve seen them snap off and collapse on the floor. Graham Coxon relishes in the alternative aggression that Britpop never fully allowed for, twisting riffs that seem to languish like drooping eyelids, dripping sweat and numbness. But the real freakout, one that must have been canned and compressed for ages, explodes in a vomit of wobbly distortion and screeching falsetto. It’s a vertigo-inducing outro that caves in like the mold-rotted roof of a wooden house, shattering in a hail of splinters and nails. In all of its spring-plucking chaos, there’s really no other lyric that fits it than Albarn’s self-aggrandizing, high-pitched screech of “I’ve done and fucked it!” yelled straight up from the well of rock bottom.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

So Lucky – Nicola Griffith – “Yeah, I found nowhere/It got to know me…”

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

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

Posted in Books

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️The Bookish Mutant’s Books for Pride Month (2024 Edition) 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles!

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.

Just a refresher on my key:

MC: Main character

LI: Love interest

SC: Side character(s)

For my previous lists, see below:

Enjoy these book recs!

🌈THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BOOKS FOR PRIDE MONTH (2024 EDITION)🌈

FANTASY

SCIENCE FICTION

REALISTIC FICTION:

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!

Posted in Books

The Bookish Mutant’s Feminist Books for Women’s History Month (2024 Edition)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Friday, bibliophiles, and more importantly, Happy International Women’s Day!

Here in the U.S., March is Women’s History Month! In the years since I’ve started making these posts, the amount of attacks on women—in terms of laws attacking our bodily autonomy (as well as the bodily autonomy of trans and nonbinary people) and worldwide violence—has only increased. And amidst all of this turmoil, all I can take from this is that now, more than ever, we need feminism. We need to educate people, we need to help people to become less ignorant about the litany of issues plaguing marginalized groups here in the states and elsewhere. That, to me, is the most insidious consequence of the book bans spreading across the country: you take away a child’s ability to learn about perspectives outside of their own, and you produce an ignorant generation that does not question authority. In the absence of sound authority figures, books, more than ever, are our most valuable teachers.

Another change from my lists in previous years is that since my reading tastes have expanded, I’ve added adult and nonfiction books to this list—all of which I believe are just as valuable to feminism as any other book I’ve included. Enjoy!

For my previous lists, click below:

Let’s begin, shall we?

THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S FEMINIST BOOKS FOR WOMEN’S HISTORY MONTH (2024 EDITION)

SCIENCE FICTION:

FANTASY:

*NOTE: The Siren, The Song, and the Spy is book 2 in a series, but I feel it should be included on this list for the feminist themes included in this book in particular.

REALISTIC FICTION:

NONFICTION:

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 feminist books? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

never thought I’d go through this whole album bc I was so Kate Bush’d out in 2022 but this one’s fantastic almost all the way through

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

Posted in Books

The Bookish Mutant’s 5-star Reads of 2023

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles!

I was going to publish this earlier in the day, but that was before my laptop charger broke. Luckily, I’ve got a spare, but I’m glad that it happened, because while I was rationing my laptop’s battery life, I finished a book that landed on this year’s honorable mentions! Happy accidents.

Growth happens every year, but 2023 has especially felt like a year of growth to me; I’ve gotten into the rhythm of college, and I’ve tread into more challenging territory with my English degree. I’ve had the honor of being a learning assistant, and the experience of helping teach a class has greatly enriched me—and given me a much-needed boost to my public speaking confidence. And I started the year with buzzing my hair off! Not something that past me thought I’d ever do. (For those of you who are uncertain: do it. It’s worth it. Growing out your hair takes a while, but it’s worth the experience.)

I still haven’t gotten into the reading rhythm that I used to have (and I doubt I ever will—Jeezus, how did I ever manage to read 300 books in a year? How?), but that doesn’t mean that I’ve found plenty of gems in the bunch. Like last year, I don’t have as many 5-star reads, but that’s fine with me—as I said last year, it’s probably a consequence of my tastes getting more selective, and finding them scattered few and far between makes me savor them that much more. It’s a strange bunch this year—fiction and nonfiction, time travel and pirates. But these are the books that made this year all the richer.

Let’s begin, shall we?

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S 5-STAR READS OF 2023⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

HONORABLE MENTIONS (4.5 STARS):

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you read any of these books, and if so, did you enjoy them as much as I did? What were your favorite reads of the year? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

That’s it for my favorite books of the year! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Mini Reviews

MINI REVIEWS | Birthday Books (Gifts + What I Blew my Paycheck On)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

It might still be a week or so before I completely return to some semblance of my normal schedule, but I’m starting to get to the point where I know where I’m going and what I’m doing. And as much as I hate the constant home football games we’ve been having, at least it means that my already quiet floor is even quieter, so I can get my homework done in a serene environment—and write these reviews as well!

Since my birthday last month, I’ve taken all of the books I got—ones that I bought on my birthday and gifts from family—back to my dorm, where I slowly (yes, slowly, settling into college is weird) devoured them over the course of several weeks. I’m happy to say that it was a fantastic batch—not every one was the best book I’ve ever read, but it’s chiefly in the 4-star range. I got a 5-star book out of these as well! And now they sit proudly on my little dorm bookshelf, ready to be reviewed.

Let’s begin, shall we?

THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S BIRTHDAY MINI REVIEWS

Verse, Chorus, Monster! – Graham Coxon

from Goodreads:

Verse, Chorus, Monster! is the memoir of iconic British musician and Blur co-founder Graham Coxon, charting a life of music, fame, addiction and art. Before the noise and clamour of the Britpop era, Coxon was a shy Army kid tempering his anxiety through painting and a growing love of music. As he honed his artistic skill at school, his band with school friend Damon Albarn, fellow student Alex James, and a drummer called Dave Rowntree began to get noticed. But there are things they don’t tell you before you get famous. There are monsters out there. And some may even be lurking inside yourself.

☆

TW/CW: substance abuse/addiction, themes of mental health issues

I’ve been trying to branch out into more nonfiction over the past few years, but even if I wasn’t, I would have picked this up eventually either way. My Blur awakening back in 2021 made sure of that. So of course I was excited to see that Graham Coxon was coming out with a memoir—he’s always struck me as such a sensitive, creative person, and Verse, Chorus, Monster! fortunately cemented that, for the most part!

I always have a lingering fear that celebrity memoirs will somehow ruin my image of them, but with this one, I still hold that Graham Coxon seems like such a deeply insightful and sensitive soul. This glimpse into his mind was all at once raw and touching; the frequent sections about his struggles with anxiety and alcoholism were difficult to read, but I’m so glad to have verbal confirmation that he’s been getting better as of late, and that he’s starting to work on himself in that respect. Beyond that, there’s just so much about this memoir that was immediately endearing. The insight into one of the main creative forces behind one of my favorite bands (and a fantastic solo artist in his own right) was fascinating to hear from the front lines, and I loved the pieces we got of his creative process—opening the book with the spark of inspiration that lead to the hook of my favorite song (“Tender”) was the quickest possible way to win me over. And it’s easy for memoirs to have a sense of humility that’s manufactured, but Coxon’s personality really did come off as genuinely humble.

All in all, an excellent memoir by a truly admirable creative force—and a refreshingly humble one. 4 stars!

This is How You Lose the Time War – Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

from Goodreads:

In the ashes of a dying world, Red finds a letter marked “Burn before reading.”

So begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents in a war that stretches through the vast reaches of time and space.

Red belongs to the Agency, a post-singularity technotopia. Blue belongs to Garden, a single vast consciousness embedded in all organic matter. Their pasts are bloody and their futures mutually exclusive. They have nothing in common—save that they’re the best, and they’re alone.

Now what began as a battlefield boast grows into a dangerous game, one both Red and Blue are determined to win. Because winning’s that you do in war. Isn’t it?

A tour de force collaboration from two powerhouse writers that spans the whole of time and space.

☆

TW/CW: blood, violence, murder, self-harm, descriptions of bodies/corpses, torture, poisoning, war

Hoowhee, brother. This one was good.

Time War had floated on the edges of my radar for years ever since it came out, but I ultimately decided to pick it up on the recommendations of one of my professors and one of my best friends. And their high praise—and the high praise of so many others—was more than well-deserved.

For such a short novella, Time War packs a truly unforgettable gut punch, vibrant and rich with emotion. Who knew that these two characters identified only by colors would consume so much of my days when I read this? I can’t praise this book enough. The prose is beyond rich, truly enchanting and expansive, fitting for the cosmic scale that this story is set in. It has an almost gothic sensibility to it, even with the firmly sci-fi trappings—what’s more romantic, dramatic, and emotional than two lovers reaching for each other across the vastness of space and time itself? But even with this grand scale, This is How You Lose the Time War is one of the most deeply human stories that I’ve read in ages. It taps into that innate desire to love and be loved, or even to just have someone to talk to as the world around you is collapsing. In spite of the grand, cosmic conflict and multiple universes colliding, nothing can come in the way of our desire for love and connection. It’s one of those stories where plot details—names and how this time-spanning war started—mean nothing in the face of the deep resonance of the characters.

Hold me. I need a minute…

What else is there to say? Go read this, what are you even doing? 5 stars!

A Memory Called Empire – Arkady Martine

from Goodreads:

Ambassador Mahit Dzmare arrives in the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire only to discover that her predecessor, the previous ambassador from their small but fiercely independent mining Station, has died. But no one will admit that his death wasn’t an accident—or that Mahit might be next to die, during a time of political instability in the highest echelons of the imperial court.

Now, Mahit must discover who is behind the murder, rescue herself, and save her Station from Teixcalaan’s unceasing expansion—all while navigating an alien culture that is all too seductive, engaging in intrigues of her own, and hiding a deadly technological secret—one that might spell the end of her Station and her way of life—or rescue it from annihilation.

☆

TW/CW: themes of colonialism/imperialism, murder/attempted murder, violence

College isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but man, it’s fun sometimes. I got an A on a literary theory assignment where I compared this book to an essay we read in class. I love being an English major.

If the fact that I used A Memory Called Empire for a literary theory assignment doesn’t make you think that there’s a ton of great stuff to chew on in this book, I’m not sure how else to convince you. It’s fantastic space opera, but it errs more on the side of a political thriller—a common enough combination these days, but one that was so well-executed in this case. Reckoning with the history of colonialism in science fiction has been on the rise—and for a very good reason—but A Memory Called Empire had such an interesting take on it. This is the first of these kinds of novels that I’ve seen tackle the seduction of colonialism; along with the actual murder mystery afoot, Mahit Dzmare is also being pulled—both physically and mentally—into the clutches of the reigning Teixcalaanli Empire, and is being groomed into the ruling culture as she tries to stay afloat and protect her space station from imminent colonization. The character work is nothing short of excellent, the worldbuilding is top-notch, and the suspense is palpable from start to finish. It’s all a treat.

This book has gotten quite a lot of hype over the years, but it really is all that—alluring, suspenseful, and nothing short of insightful. 4 stars!

The World of Edena – Mœbius

from Goodreads:

Stel and Atan are interstellar investigators trying to find a lost space station and its crew. When they discover the mythical paradise planet Edena, their lives are changed forever. The long out-of-print Edena Cycle from Moebius gets a deluxe hardcover treatment! Moebius’s World of Edena story arc comprises five chapters–Upon a Star, Gardens of Edena, The Goddess, Stel, and Sra–which are all collected here.

☆

TW/CW: nudity, mild sci-fi action

I’ve been meaning to get into Mœbius for years now; ever since I reactivated my pinterest and went on a deep dive of sci-fi art, I’ve been drawn to the enigmatic, meticulous, and downright wondrous quality of his art. (I feel like it would’ve happened eventually—turns out that he was a major influence on Tony DiTerlizzi, and especially his inking style in the Search for WondLa trilogy, which has shaped me beyond repair.) I started here with Edena, and I put it on my birthday list.

I still hold that he may be one of my favorite artists. His style is so ethereally captivating, and I found many a piece that I’ve used for my desktop wallpaper in the past few years inside Edena. His landscapes are instantly transporting, and there’s not a single character design lacking in whimsical charm. The story itself…slightly less so? It’s like a sci-fi Yellow Submarine, but if the script was due in an hour and he’d forgotten all about it until then. Given the circumstances, it’s understandable; Edena apparently started out as a car ad (???), and then it took on a life of its own, completely unplanned. There’s inconsistencies aplenty with both the story and the art, but for the most part, it was just so wild that I enjoyed the ride. If it gives you some idea of what happens, Mœbius pulls the classic “IT WAS ALL A DREAM” move that ends up resolving (if you can call it that) the whole mess. It’s nuts. But there were so many pockets that I wished we could have explored more. There were some super interesting gender themes going on—I wish we got to know why Stel and Atan were on their gender-neutral hormone supplements, for a lack of a better word, but the resulting transformation into their Adam and Eve roles (hence the name) was so fascinating, especially since this only came out in the late eighties or so. (Of course, Atan/Atana effectively becomes a damsel in distress post-transformation, but that’s a whole other can of worms. Ouch.)

In short, The World of Edena was beautiful, if not a bit of a mess. Luckily, the mess was endearing, for the most part, or at least fun. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!

Firekeeper’s Daughter – Angeline Boulley

from Goodreads:

As a biracial, unenrolled tribal member and the product of a scandal, Daunis Fontaine has never quite fit in—both in her hometown and on the nearby Ojibwe reservation. When her family is struck by tragedy, Daunis puts her dreams on hold to care for her fragile mother. The only bright spot is meeting Jamie, the charming new recruit on her brother’s hockey team.

After Daunis witnesses a shocking murder that thrusts her into a criminal investigation, she agrees to go undercover. But the deceptions—and deaths—keep piling up and soon the threat strikes too close to home. How far will she go to protect her community if it means tearing apart the only world she’s ever known?

☆

TW/CW: racism, murder, sexual harassment and assault, misogyny, rape, death, gun violence, descriptions of injury, substance abuse

Originally, I put off reading this book because a) I’m not usually much of a YA mystery/thriller person, and b) the mountain of hype was certainly intimidating. I ended up reading Warrior Girl Unearthed because the plot fascinated me more from the start, and I loved it so much that I ended up buying Firekeeper’s Daughter after all. And, once again, I’ve been struck with the luck of hyped books being all worth the hype.

Every part of Firekeeper’s Daughter is excellent, from the effortless way that Angeline Boulley weaves a scene and setting together to the never-ending suspense that kept me guessing for page after page, twist after twist. Making a setting as tangible and populated as hers was is no easy feat—and it suited every other aspect of this book in every conceivable way. You can’t have a corrupt, hidden history of a town without the town itself. The sense of community—and the rifts driven into it—were some of the best I’ve seen in YA fiction in quite a while. Part of that wouldn’t have been possible without Boulley’s equally excellent character work; Just like their community, every character feels nothing short of authentic and multilayered. This all made the twists so much more effective—with such layered characters, I learned to expect the unexpected. And even with the ongoing expansion of diversity in YA as a whole, I feel like I haven’t seen as many novels centering Native American or Indigenous characters and stories, so I’m glad that this book exists in that sense as well. (Shoutout to Darcie Little Badger and Moniquill Blackgoose as well!) And Daunis is mixed-race as well! Yay!!!

If you’re questioning whether or not Firekeeper’s Daughter is worth the never-ending hype: trust me, it’s worth a read. 4 stars!

Ammonite – Nicola Griffith

from Goodreads:

Change or die. These are the only options available on the planet Jeep. Centuries earlier, a deadly virus shattered the original colony, killing the men and forever altering the few surviving women. Now, generations after the colony has lost touch with the rest of humanity, a company arrives to exploit Jeep–and its forces find themselves fighting for their lives. Terrified of spreading the virus, the company abandons its employees, leaving them afraid and isolated from the natives. In the face of this crisis, anthropologist Marghe Taishan arrives to test a new vaccine. As she risks death to uncover the women’s biological secret, she finds that she, too, is changing–and realizes that not only has she found a home on Jeep, but that she alone carries the seeds of its destruction. . .

☆

TW/CW: death, violence, animal death, gore

I picked this one up after how much I loved So Lucky, also by Griffith. Thing is, I had no idea that a) this book was written almost 30 years before So Lucky (although this cover should’ve tipped me off to that), and b) that, even with the genre difference, that this would be a very different kind of book. At this point, nothing tops So Lucky for me, but Ammonite was still a fascinating book in its own right.

If you’re going into this book expecting what most would consider traditional science fiction, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Most of it follows Marghe, who is tasked with delivering a vaccine to an isolated colony of women whose community was decimated by a mysterious illness that wiped out all of the men. At its heart, Ammonite is firmly a survival story; it’s a story of the wilderness, of venturing into the unknown, and adapting to the world around you. There are moments of suspense, moments of tenderness, and moments of absolute fear. Another reviewer described it as “Dune but gay,” and other than the more traditionally sci-fi elements of the former, the comparison was spot-on. Ammonite also has the fact that it’s much slimmer than Dune going for it, but given how long Dune is, that’s not saying much. But I think what has seemed to make this book so groundbreaking is its take on gender dynamics. The cast is entirely women, but when all of the men are taken by the illness, the remaining women don’t automatically form a pacifist, hippie commune; there are flawed women, there are good-hearted women, there are warlike women, and everything in between. This banishing of broad generalizations about gender, I think, is what makes Ammonite feel so ahead of its time.

Sidenote: this was written in the nineties, so Nicola Griffith had to have known about goth people…right? Just saying, calling the barely-described alien megafauna “goths” made me envision a giant, towering version of Robert Smith, not, y’know, whatever she wanted us to picture.

All in all, a very unique take on sci-fi and survival with some groundbreaking gender dynamics that have held up for the past 30 years. 3.5 stars!

Abe Sapien, vol. 4: The Shape of Things to Come – Mike Mignola

from Goodreads:

A mutated Abe Sapien fights carnivorous monsters crawling out of the desert sand, a fortified militia that’s walled Phoenix off from the rest of the world, and a vicious zombie swarm, while a mad necromancer rises over the monster-infested ruins of Seattle. Collects issues #6-#7 and #9-#11 of the series.

☆

TW/CW: gore, blood, violence, racism, body horror

I haven’t caught up on the actual Abe Sapien series since…[checks notes], eight grade, I think. Jesus. I just remembered flying to New York when I was about 14 and reading the first volume. But even then, I think I subconsciously chose a good place to pick up with it, since there’s a pretty clear gulf between the first three and vol. 4—before and after Abe gets mutated, shot, and quits the B.P.R.D. Just another day at the office for the guy, y’know?

Suffice to say, I was somewhat disappointed by this volume. It was still enjoyable, and even though I was never the biggest fan of Fiumara’s art, the more stylized look suits Abe’s stretched-out, mutated form. Other than that, there wasn’t a whole lot here that I found terribly memorable. Abe goes through the exact same arc as Hellboy upon leaving the B.P.R.D., but it never seems to culminate in much development on his end. Plot-wise, it’s the same ol’, I’m afraid—Abe goes into a random, apocalypse-ravaged town in the middle of nowhere, and, surprise surprise, it’s time to fight some zombies and witness a copious amount of fungus-related body horror. Somehow, the latter works better when it’s the whole B.P.R.D. trying to deal with it—the group dynamic is what makes B.P.R.D. consistently shine, and as much as I love Abe, I’m not sure if he could carry a story like that when it’s the same format they’ve been using on and off for several years. Abe is one of my favorite Mignolaverse characters, and it’s such a shame that he’s never gotten to shine as much in his solo comics. And judging from the reviews on the later volumes, it seems like the quality tanked until we got the band back together for The Devil You Know. Shame.

All in all, an entetraining trade, but one that ultimately did a disservice to one of the Mignolaverse’s most beloved characters. 3.25 stars.

Today’s song:

I swear, this has to be some of Mitski’s best work in YEARS

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

Posted in Monthly Wrap-Ups

July 2023 Wrap-Up 🕶

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Monday, bibliophiles!

For once, it’s felt like this month has been…the right length? I often come to the end of any given month still internally mid-month, but it really does feel like it’s the end of July. Maybe I can chalk that up to either a) being nearly finished with my Camp NaNoWriMo goal (!!!) or b) the fact that I’m always looking forward to August, since it’s my birthday month, but either way, July is nearly out the window. Hopefully this awful heat will be out the window, too.

Let’s begin, shall we?

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

July has definitely been on the busier side for me; between working at the library and going for my Camp NaNoWriMo goal, there’s been a lot of writing, a lot of shelving, and a lot of straightening. But it’s all been good busy, as tired as my legs get after standing up for so long on a shift; working in a library has been such a welcoming environment, and I’ve been having tons of fun writing out the first draft of my sci-fi sequel. (I also got to put some books on my library’s unofficial Disability Pride Month display, so that is ALWAYS a plus.) And as of tonight, I’ll be finished with my goal of 50,000 WORDS! I know I technically haven’t done it yet (I’m only about 700 words away from finishing right now, so that’s no big deal), but I’m super proud of myself. I’ve been working towards 50,000 for around 4 and a half years, so it feels amazing to finally be this close.

Despite that, I’ve had a lot more time to read this month! It’s been a good batch of books, too; there were only two books this month that I didn’t really like, and all of the others were good to amazing. Most of what I read was for Disability Pride Month, and I found so many amazing books with great disability rep, which is always wonderful. And now that I’m back home and working at the library, it’s been great to be reading physical books more often. As convenient as my Kindle is, nothing beats the feel of a physical book.

Other than that, I’ve just been listening to the new Palehound (fantastic) and Blur (disappointing) albums, continuing to binge my way through Taskmaster (almost halfway through season 10 now, Johnny Vegas being incredibly flustered has no right to be as funny as it is), watching Barbie (sobbing) and Oppenheimer (never in a million years would I have thought that Robert Downey Jr. would be THAT creepy), and trying to get out of the heat whenever possible. (How is it that it got to almost 120 degrees in Arizona and people still don’t think that climate change is real 😭)

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 18 books this month! I think this may have been the best (if not one of the best) reading months I’ve had this year, in terms of quantity. And it was a great batch as well—only two books that fell into the 2-star range, a 5-star read, and tons of great reads for Disability Pride Month!

2 – 2.75 stars:

Far From You

3 – 3.75 stars:

Magonia

4 – 4.75 stars:

Some Desperate Glory

5 stars:

So Lucky

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: So Lucky – 5 stars

POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS BY OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT I ENJOYED:

SONGS/ALBUMS THAT I’VE BEEN ENJOYING:

XYLOPHONE SOLOOOOOOOOO
sad that I didn’t get to see her but I LOVE this song
lovely album for this summer!
this song is singlehandedly gonna derail my apple music replay lol
disappointing album overall but at least this and “St. Charles Square” were great
this song is seeing the light of day AT LAST
you give me CHILLS I’ve had it with the DRILLS

Today’s song:

THIS ALBUM DESERVES SO MUCH MORE RECOGNITION

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