T H E M O N T H O F M A Y
May: the home of Hawthorn and Lily-of-the-Valley, the host of Beltane, the symbol of a world’s transformation and abundance ever since the Romans named her after Maia. She is supposed to mark major transitions, representing a return to prosperity and happiness after a (probably) long winter. And May, you did, indeed, mark a time of transition for me, as I’m sure you did for many others. Leaving one world for another, all very surreal in how markedly normal and mundane the transition was. I’m fully vaccinated now, able to socialize, traverse, actually go into an independent bookstore or a coffee shop or a theatre without a mask: all joyous things, but it’s felt as if nothing has changed in my Midwestern hometown. I’m a graduate now, diploma soon to be framed: an accomplishment, for sure, but it doesn’t feel like that big of a deal, y’know? I closed my laptop on May 7th at 7 pm, said “nice,” and that was that, really. I’m working on hopping into my industry’s workforce right now, with some incredibly exciting things on the horizon (!!), but nothing feels quite real from my desk in my parents’ home. Not yet. I oscillate between thrilled for what’s to come, fearful of what’s to come, and unbelieving of what’s to come. Everything exists in this odd in-between realm, a transition that hasn’t fully completed yet.
But it’s only been a month. So who’s to say.
May certainly brought some of the happiness and abundance she promises, though. A wedding. Many graduations. A beautiful, transportable writing desk as a graduation gift. Purchasing so many books secondhand and thrifted that I’m officially on a book buying ban for a hot second. Launching a fledgling Bookstagram. Receiving multiple opportunities (all up in the air, still, so I’m not saying a thing yet). Netflix binges. The return of evening walks. The discovery and/or release of some badass albums. Biting the bullet and purchasing a new laptop. Hell, even the remembering of how ridiculously good pretzels and mango iced tea are is a small joy.
All in all, it’s been a good one. Surreal, but good.
Truly, here’s to the upcoming adventure.
M A Y W R A P - U P
Read:
I and You by Lauren Gunderson: one of Gunderson’s earlier plays, surrounding a teenage girl with a deadly disease and her partner in a school project. Exploring mortality, connection, hopes encouraged and dashed, and the stunning fragility of life, this play has been done by theatres with younger peoples all over the place. I give it a 3.5: Gunderson has far better work out there, and I wasn’t a huge fan of the “question/question/question/question/witty rebuke/question” construction of this piece; still, the ending was a gut punch, and it certainly accomplished what she wanted.
The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas: if you haven’t heard of this book or its film adaptation, you may have been living under a rock for the past few years. ;) Thomas’s novel follows Starr, a black teenager living near Chicago, after she sees her best friend shot and killed in an act of police brutality; Starr and her siblings are the children of a former gangbanger and teenage mother, have an uncle who is a police officer, and go to a wealthy private school with a largely white population. That combination creates a stunning, mind-stinging, deservedly unforgiving exploration and commentary on racism, identity, code switching, cyclical trauma, police brutality, and the judgement white people pass after centuries of ingrained racist thought. All of this is wrapped in a beautifully individual, strong voice of a struggling, strong protagonist and those she loves. A. Must. Read. 5 out of 5.
Femmes Fatales: Feminism, Film Theory, Psychoanalysis by Mary Ann Doane: a series of essays surrounding gender representation in film, utilizing feminist theory and a variety of psychoanalyses (largely Freudian and Lacanian, for my psych peeps out there). Okay. So. The subject matter and the points Doane made were fascinating, worthwhile observations to make us all better viewers and critics of the art of film. However. Her writing was the definition of problematic elitist academia. I’m a person who has studied linguistics, the English language, and writing for years, everything from Old English to contemporary oddities, and I had a hard time understanding it all in one go. It’s one thing to provide material that your reader has to ponder; it’s a whole ‘nother thing to make it inaccessible to the masses. What is the point of your work if no one can access it in order to utilize your findings in their own life? Check your academic privilege, please. 2.5 out of 5. My absolute favorite essay of the whole thing was the penultimate one, “Dark Continents: The Epistemologies of Racial and Sexual Difference in Psychoanalysis and the Cinema,” followed closely by “Film and the Masquerade: Theorizing the Female Spectator” and “The Abstraction of a Lady: La Signora di tutti.”
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett: something to learn about me right away: I love the oddities. Plays, musicals, films, books, what have you, I love the ones that are hard to explain, that take forever to analyze and you’re still not sure if you’re right. I’m weird like that. So is Beckett’s seminal work. Following Vladimir and Estragon as they wait for an unseen man who never shows, the work is one that has been much-debated over the years. It is highly philosophical, highly metaphysical, utilizing repetitive language, Caryl Churchill-esque babble, and confusing chronology jumps. My current favorite (and personal) analysis is that of people suffering PTSD, as soldier, as queer folk, as oppressed being. But I won’t go into that here. Read it, and tell me what you think. :) 4.5 out of 5.
Delicious! by Ruth Reichl: an adorable delight of a book, Reichl’s novel follows Billie, a young woman with a gift for flavor, after she drops out of college and moves to NYC to begin writing for a top food magazine; once there, she discovers a secret library filled with letters from a young girl named Lulu to famous chef James Beard during World War II. The mystery takes her places she never dreamed of. A love letter to food, family, and self-surety, it warmed my heart the whole way through. A good one to read if you need a feel-good novel, but prepare yourself: it moves rather too quickly in the last twenty pages, as if Reichl were on a deadline crunch. Still good. And I would jump in front of a speeding truck for Sammy. 3.5 out of 5.
Freedomland by Amy Freed: a very, very odd play, following a highly dysfunctional family: the father, a narcissistic Theology professor; the birth mother, absentee; the stepmother, a frightening Oedipal therapist; the oldest sister, a narcissist who paints creepy clowns for a living; the middle sister, a sexually frustrated Greek scholar; the youngest brother, a survivalist with anger management issues; and a reporter and girlfriend thrown into this crazy mix. Yeah. All of that. It’s much like a trainwreck you can’t look away from, complete with random BDSM harnesses, musings on Aristotelian philosophy, and regression to the point of reliving an eighth birthday. It was so very odd, yet the construction was so well-done that I couldn’t put it down. 3.5 out of 5.
Disgraced by Ayad Akhtar: The 2012 Pulitzer Prize winner for Drama, Akhtar’s play is a thought-provoking, brutal inquiry into religious identity and nationalistic thought within America. With a wonderfully diverse cast of characters (though I did wonder at the possible tokenism of the black woman), the work follows Amir, a Pakistani-American lawyer who has done all he can to leave his Muslim upbringing behind; Emily, his white wife who uses him as a muse for her Islamic-inspired art; Abe, Amir’s nephew who has Americanized his name but remains so connected to his upbringing that the law is questioning him; Isaac, Emily’s Jewish art curator; and Jory, Isaac’s black wife and Amir’s colleague. Their race and religion is incredibly important to note. What follows is an organic, eye-opening exploration of immigrant identity and white appropriation in America. My only qualm is that I would’ve liked a touch more resolution: I just felt it wrapped a touch too quickly. 4 out of 5.
Persuasion by Jane Austen: currently ranking 3rd on my Best of Austen list (after P&P and S&S), the novel follows Anne Elliot and Captain Frederick Wentworth. Eight years ago, they were close to engaged, but Anne turned him down after a female friend convinced her of his unworthiness; he has returned now, just as Anne’s elitist, irresponsible father and narcissistic elder sister have fallen on hard enough times to rent their beloved Kellynch-hall. As usual, the following is a romantic story of two people who so desperately want to be together, but the world keeps pulling them apart. Lush with Austen’s typical vibrant characters, English countryside scene, and entertaining dialogue—and, of course, a wondrous satirical commentary on her Regency England—I so enjoyed this novel. I just prefer the characterizations of the aforementioned two. 4.5 out of 5.
Watched:
Season 8 of Supernatural: I’ve returned to watching Supernatural with Jay over the past few months, translating to a complete obsession with a show I continuously forget is as good as it is. Is the writing a cinematic masterpiece? Absolutely not. Is the queer-baiting of forever and the misogyny of the earlier seasons problematic? Of course it is. But is the story creative and the actors fecking phenomenal? Ab-so-lute-ly. Jensen Ackles as Dean Winchester and Misha Collins as Castiel is a master class of how to elevate subpar writing with excellent characterization, deep vulnerability, and the giving into and defiance of traditional masculinity. Two actors who have my creative heart. I’m back to being addicted. Sue me.
Goods, produced by Artemisia Theatre: Chicago’s Artemisia recently produced the world premiere of Lauren Ferebee’s Goods, winner of the Kennedy Center Planet Earth Arts Playwriting Award. Following two female intergalactic trash collectors years in the future, the play is a statement on sustainability, environmentalism, family, humanity, and how difficult it is to do the right thing. Artemisia did a fantastic job, if I do say so myself. Outside of a few sound balance issues, it was wonderful. Deeply touching in a way I didn’t anticipate. A particular shoutout to Shariba Rivers as Sam: the organic nature and growth of her Sam was both familiar and heartbreaking.
Season 2 of Gilmore Girls: I’m sure y’all know about Gilmore Girls; you don’t need a synopsis. I’m taking forever to watch through it, as my binge-watching skill is the WORST, but I’m getting there. Only two things to say: one, you all think I’m Rory, and I will hold that I am far closer to Paris; two, I despise Jess. Sorry not sorry.
Ciara Foster’s wonderfully cozy reading vlogs: one of my favorite Booktubers, Ciara’s content is forever comforting, open, joyous, and smart. She’s one of the few I keep notifications on for.
Morgan Long’s fantastical hygge channel: another of my favorite Booktubers, Morgan’s channel is the definition of hygge: cozy, bright, vulnerable, and bookish. She’s one who is a comfort to watch.
Listened:
Oscar @ the CROWN (created by Mark Mauriello, written by Andrew Barret Cox): described as “an immersive EDM musical inspired by Oscar Wilde and the Real Housewives,” Oscar @ the CROWN is one of my new favorite things in the entire world. Well-written, filled with bops and unexpected gut punches, eccentric and odd and new, it is certainly something Wilde himself would be proud of. Current faves: “Feasting with Panthers” and “The Music Won’t Stop”
Nevermore: The Imaginary Life and Untimely Death of Edgar Allan Poe (written by Jonathan Christenson): this musical is so weird and I am in love with it. Designed in the style of a Poe story—melodramatic, dark, paranoid, odd—and following the author’s life, the show is equal parts mind-bogglingly fascinating and tear-jerkingly touching. It needs to be produced more; I would love to see it live, so I could give a full analysis. Current faves: “Israfel,” “We Are Your Nightmares,” and “Epilogue”
Radio Company’s Vol. 2: Radio Company is as if Lynyrd Skynyrd, Kansas, Jamestown Revival, and Hozier morphed into a duo: Southern rock with an indie flair. This new album, released in May, has quickly become a comfort. Current faves: “Quarter To,” “City Grown Willow,” and “Truly Forgotten”
dodie’s Build a Problem: Dodie Clark is one of my favorite songwriters and musicians currently living. Her albums read as a diary, balancing triumph, self-deprecation, and family with a deft hand. This one is no different. Current faves: “Hate Myself” and “Rainbow”
Wilder Woods’s the work tapes: I had to give you one dull one here. This came across my “For You” playlists on Spotify; it was good enough for me to save, but not one I keep returning to.
Lizzie (written by Steven Cheslik-deMeyer, Tim Maner, and Alan Stevens Hewitt): this one is proof that there is a musical out there for everyone. Lizzie is the love child of Heart, Joan Jett, The Donnas, Duncan Sheik, and Ryan Scott Oliver, following the much-told tale of Lizzie Borden (who, by the way, is an indirect ancestor of mine, if that sort of thing is fun for you). Alternating between crass rock and deeply touching love songs, this musical is both hardcore bop and stunning story. Current faves: “Somebody Will Do Something,” “What the F*** Now, Lizzie?!,” “Shattercane & Velvet Grass,” and “Will You Stay?”
A Little Night Music (written by Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler): Hi. Another thing to know: I’m incredibly picky on my traditional and transitional musicals. Though I respect the shoulders we stand on as theatremakers, I’m a bit disillusioned as a whole with most eras, and I’m not a fan of most traditional musicals. A Little Night Music was fine. A complicated mess of analysis that would be fun, should I ever see it, but I would just say it’s fine. I like Sondheim’s other works better. Current faves: “The Miller’s Son” (duh), “The Glamorous Life,” and “Send in the Clowns” (also duh)
Broadway Bullshit’s two-part episode on Spring Awakening: It’s. Just. Brilliant. They speak more specifically on the Deaf West production in 2015, noting historical references and staging choices that make it all the more devastating. As always, our hosts are well-researched, passionate, and hilarious. Go listen.
Played
Nancy Drew: Danger on Deception Island: Jay and I are in the process of playing through the Nancy Drew games of my childhood, sending me into a massive nostalgia hole. Bless him (although he’s definitely enjoying it, too, don’t get me wrong). I recall this one being one of my lesser favorites, and it still held that title. It’s fine; the other games far surpass this one in design, character, and gameplay. The busy work was annoying. I hate clams.
Delving into Mass Effect: Now, this trilogy is Jay’s favorite of all-time. We’ve just begun it as of a few weeks ago, and, let me tell you, I’m already in love. The world design is comparable to that of a Tolkien or Clare; I already want to sit down and do a ton of research into the inspirations behind each species and each world. I’m already gathering the ancient pagan research and Pantheon/mythology influence. Fascinating. And fun. I would die for Alien Squad™.
That's all for now, May.
All my love,
Rhiannon