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⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Ceremony – Leslie Marmon Silko | You thought I wouldn’t give a book with themes of mixed-race identity and storytelling 5 stars? Really?
A Thousand Steps into Night – Traci Chee | There’s something to be said about 5-star reads that come out of nowhere. So much more emotional than I bargained for, but that’s not a complaint.
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!
Happy Sunday, bibliophiles, and a very merry Christmas Eve to all those celebrating!
As far as my book reviews go…yeah, well, I’ve been a bit of a Scrooge, but you can’t blame me. The finals reading slump comes for us all. Some days you just have to air out the dirty laundry. But despite the dreary color palette that ended up happening this week, I hope there’s enough jolliness here to assure you that yes, my festive cheer remains steadfast, and so does my love of ’70s guitars.
1970 was probably the worst year for trying to beat the “copying the Beatles” allegations, and the fact that these guys named themselves after an early title for “With A Little Help from My Friends” (originally titled “Bad Finger Boogie”…yeah, the name change was a good idea, John) doesn’t help their case. But I feel like being signed to Apple Records and having both Paul McCartney and George Harrison separately produce two of their other hits gets them a Get Out of Jail Free card. This once.
That aside, it also doesn’t help their case that Pete Ham sounds like the slightly growly middle ground between Paul McCartney and John Lennon, and the same nearly goes for the backing vocals, which try to hit somewhere between Lennon and Harrison. But it’s not every day that you can hit it that close to such legends, and it’s commendable no matter how (oops) you look at it. I’ve really underhyped all of this, but…there’s seriously something about this song. I swear that “No Matter What” is laced with something…oh, maybe it’s the guitars. My god, it’s barely 1970, and the ’70s guitars already sound so crisp…so full…do not get me started. But even if the guitars weren’t so sharp and full of dance-inducing warmth, there’s something so undeniably pure about this song. It’s no lyrical groundbreaker or generational anthem, but there’s a contagious joy to it—a good pop song does that. ”No Matter What” is the perfect end-credits song—the guitars start chugging in at the final shot of the movie, and everything goes black the minute that Pete Ham begins to sing. Come on, now. You can’t not go along with the clapping at 2:18. Beauty in simplicity. These guys get a pass for having either the best or the worst band name of all time. I genuinely can’t decide.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
1971 – Never a Dull Moment: The Year Rock Exploded – I…dammit. I totally thought No Dice came out in 1971. I was two months off—November of 1970. Oops. But either way, this book is a little drily written for a book that claims to “never have a dull moment,” but it’s nonetheless a fascinating insight into the absolute goldmine of good music in 1971. (There was never a better high note than ending the year with the release of Hunky Dory.)
Apparently I have another “I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams” situation on my hands here, since this blew up on TikTok sometime back in 2020 (after Spotify’s autoplay seems to have dug it up out of nowhere), and I didn’t find out until now. Maybe that was the period when the thumbnail for the music video kept popping up on YouTube and I ignored it until it went away? Little did I know what I was in for…
Also like “I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams,” I can only describe “Harness Your Hopes” as pure, bottled joy. As soon as the sighing, psychedelic-tinged intro gives way to some truly squeaky-clean guitars, I felt a rush of sheer happiness course through me. Stephen Malkmus seriously pumped this song with nothing but whimsical joy…and yet it was a B-Side? Not only that, but a B-Side that faded into more obscurity than the indie obscurity they were (probably) going for, so much so that Malkmus didn’t even recognize it when he heard it playing in a bakery? Nuts. Seriously. Not that I have any beef with the guy, but when you produce something as curiously delightful as this, you don’t let it slip through your fingers. It has that freeform, Marc Bolan kind of nonsensical lyricism written all over it, with more than a little pretentious affectation (“Leisure, a leisure suit is nothing/It’s nothing to be proud of/In this late century”), but somehow, it feels less pretentious when most of the lyrics don’t make a ton of sense as a whole. (Or maybe there’s some super deep hidden meaning that only Stephen Malkmus and co. can decipher, and it’s nothing to us normies…who knows) And like Bolan, it’s the kind of wordplay that occasionally leads to something unexpectedly romantic—”And I’m asking you to hold me/Just like the morning paper/Pinched between your pointer, your index, and your thumb.”
And paired with Malkmus’ strained, cracking voice on one end and the guitars (so clean that they’re practically still kicking up bubbles) on the other, it’s a capsule of warmth, practically radiant. Bottled joy, truly.
Please tell me I wasn’t the only one in theaters who laughed way too hard at this (besides my mom). Please.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
This Is How You Lose the Time War – Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone – for the most part, this novel lends itself more to something more cosmically sweeping and Romantic in both senses of the word (probably Spiritualized?), but lines like “and I’m asking you to hold me/Just like the morning paper/Pinched between your pointer, your index, and your thumb” might as well be straight out of the letters between Red and Blue.
hnnnnnnnnnnngh me when Noah Hawley puts a song in Fargo that connects thematically in a deeply creative way hnnnnnnngh
good god I love this season of Fargo. no complaints, this show has made me feel alive again
where were Roy and Gator Tillman on January 6th
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
A Conspiracy of Tall Men – Noah Hawley – maybe I’m cheating since I got this song from Noah Hawley. It’s fiiiiiiine. To be fair, this is his debut novel and predates the first season of Fargo by a full 16 years (it’s kind of a mess, but lovably so…mostly), but it’s got all the cross-country conspiracies and paranoia you could ever want.
I meant to review this all the way back in June or July, when this single was first released…I forget what about it made it slip out of the roster, but I knew that it had to come back eventually. Now that all of I/O is out…it’s a great album, but I can’t help but be a little disappointed at how it was constructed. I thought that the deal was that the final organization of the songs was going to be a surprise, and that they’d be reshuffled from the order they were released in with each full moon this year, but the order just ended up being the same order they were released in. (I stand by my belief that “Playing for Time” would have been the perfect closing track.) I have similarly mixed feelings about the Bright/Dark-Side Mixes—I haven’t listened to the In-Side mix yet, but I also thought that each mix of the 12 songs would be more radically different, but the differences between the mixes are often very subtle. Some of them fit more clearly than others (ex. “I/O” is clearly more fit for Bright-Side, while “The Court” lends itself more to Dark-Side), but the tweaks between mixes are sometimes barely distinguishable.
That’s not to say that I/O isn’t a great album—it’s a beautiful picture of one of the most innovative artists alive today moving into old age and still being able to produce a relentlessly creative vision of love, mortality, and the nature of connectivity. Now that I’ve seen it live, the experience is all the more enriched, what with the stunning visuals that went along with it, as well as Peter Gabriel toeing the line between a theatrical showman (how’s reenacting the creation of life itself for a show opener?) and the wise, humble figure we’ve known him to be over the years. Songs like this one really showcased both the energy and creativity that clearly haven’t waned with age. “Road to Joy” is a highlight, without a doubt; for me, this one lends itself more to the Bright-Side mix, with the funky, “Fame”-esque guitar riffs and energetic burst of the chorus, like Gonzo firing off cannons without warning. But if the pink-shaded joy doesn’t immediately jump out at you, you know what should? The fact thatthis song is proof of yet another deeply creative project that Peter Gabriel’s been cooking up since the production of OVO—so, give or take, around 23 years. The man just can’t be stopped. But according to Gabriel, “Road to Joy” is part of a story about the human mind, and this song chronicles a character being woken up after experiencing locked-in syndrome; the triumphant declaration of “You were sure I was gone” has the defiant flair of someone beating the odds, and it’s impossible not to feel the joy from that.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Under the Earth, Over the Sky – Emily McCosh – nothing like adopting a human son to awaken your frosty, dormant heart and put you on…the road to joy, maybe? Certainly some “love call[ing] through the walls.”
“Grace” has made my expectations for TANGK skyrocket, but whether or not the album turns out to be as adventurous as I feel like it’s going to be, I think I’m almost certainly going to enjoy it. It’s a change in form, even if a fleeting one.
I thought I knew what Joe Talbot sounded like when he wasn’t singing; “A Hymn” certainly gives us a hint, but there’s still the restrained growl to it that roars to life when he’s normally screaming on every other song. But “Grace” showcases his voice at its most vulnerable. Somehow, before the chorus kicked in, I almost mistook it for Mike Hadreas from Perfume Genius. I was scrambling to find the featured list for this, because…there was no way that this is the same guy who screamed at us all to never fight a man with a perm all those years ago. And I love this change in form. IDLES always mean bah-bah-business (in case you cannot tell from their tone) with their message, but this stripped-down feel that “Grace” shifts into suits their ethos just as well as their harder songs—Talbot described the song as “a call to be held,” and the quiet vulnerability really does feel like a gentle embrace. And it’s here that you can see what their change in producer has done to the sound—TANGK was co-produced by none other than Nigel Goodrich (of Radiohead fame!!), and the staccato of the drum machine and the wash of cloudy haze peeking out from under the curtain shines in the quiet places on this track. Talbot’s voice lowers into wavering smoothness, as though he’s singing from a place where no one can hear him, save for when he declares the song’s rallying cry: “No God/No king/I said, love is the fing.”
Man…I’m so excited for this album. IDLES have said repeatedly that their mission was to make an album that was purely about love and warmth—as Talbot said, “I needed love. So I made it. I gave love out to the world and it feels like magic. This is our album of gratitude and power. All love songs. All is love.” And if that isn’t exactly what we need…not to be all hippy-dippy about it, but as much as I indulge in my sad bastard music, I’m gonna go out there and say that IDLES is exactly what we need right now. I hate it that I have to say “not to be all hippy-dippy” when I’m talking about love and warmth and being kind and loving life…you’ve heard me go off about grimdark and frankly, how astoundingly dumb it is that we often think that sadder = deeper and that being happy or consuming happy media equates to stupidity somehow, but I’ll say it again. There’s nothing stupid or naïve about wanting love, giving love, and having love in your heart. IDLES get it. Love is the fing.
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.
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!
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!
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!
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!
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!
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!
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!
I just finished my first week back to school, but after this, chances are I’ll be somewhat radio silent until I can get fully settled into my routine. The only reason that this post is seeing the light of day is that I start working on my wrap-up posts about a week in advance, so here we are.
Let’s begin, shall we?
GENERAL THOUGHTS:
Summer’s officially over, but the weather sure doesn’t seem to think so. Hopefully I won’t have to endure much more of my (long) walk to class in this 90+ degree heat.
That aside, I’ve had a good August, for the most part. My initial “yay, I’m going back to college!” got partially replaced by “oh god, I’m going back to college” closer to move-in, but I’m feeling better now. (The fact that I’m in a much nicer dorm than I was last year certainly helps. It doesn’t constantly reek of weed in here! Huzzah!) I had the opportunity to soak up the last dregs of summer beforehand, at least. I finished up my summer job at the library, bought a catnip toy for my cat for his sweet 16, completed another trip around the sun, and blew part of my paycheck on books to celebrate said trip around the sun. Worth it.
My blogging’s been a tad slower since I’ve been trying to get everything together before I moved in, but I feel like I’ve still been able to be productive. I’ve enjoyed reviewing all of my books this month and putting together graphics and going off about music. And I got in one book tag that WordPress screwed up and I had to recreate from scratch, but it was fun in the end. Once my schedule figures itself out, I’ll get back on the writing train, but for now, I’m mapping out the best route to my class in That One Building on the other side of campus.
Other than that, I’ve just been drawing, watching Only Murders in the Building (for the love of god, can we just stop pairing Mabel with people who have zero chemistry with her 😭). Good Omens (pain, suffering, even), Heartstopper (Lucy Dacus and Wolf Alice paying in the same episode >>>>>>>), and Taskmaster (“you’ve got no chutzpah”), and reveling in the fact that my new dorm has air conditioning. It’s the (not so) small things.
READING AND BLOGGING:
I read 17 books this month! Other than the one stinker in the batch (sorry, The Surviving Sky), it’s been a great reading month in terms of quality and in terms of quantity. Expect some kind of mini-review post for all of the books I bought for my birthday and the books I got as gifts, because they’ve all been fantastic so far.
The Bookish Mutant 