Hey, lovelies! I figured it was high time to provide a little reading update, more flushed out than anything I post on my Instagram (actually—putting this out there to hold me accountable—I’m thinking of starting a Bookstagram for fun, so I can gush about my love of books as much as my bibliophile heart desires without worrying about boring my main IG folks). I was rather presumptuous, though: I fully thought I had finished updating you through 2020.
I was horribly wrong.
I haven’t done an update in around nine months.
Why do I do this to myself every time?
Ah, well, c’est la vie. Buckle up, folks. ;)
Welcome to part one of the reading update: September through December of 2020. Let us begin!
1) North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell (3 out of 5): I had heard about Gaskell’s book largely through the much-loved 2004 TV adaptation, starring Richard Armitage and Daniela Denby-Ashe. Set in the Industrial Revolution of England, this classic (published in 1854) follows Margaret Hale, the daughter of a small parish pastor, who is forced out of her beloved rural home of the south into the booming industry towns of the north; upon arriving, she falls into a complicated relationship with mill owner John Thornton. The ensuing love match has been much used in YouTube compilations of period drama ships, and in Tumblr gif sets. Within the love-stricken plot lies themes of religious questioning, persecution of dissenters, workers’ rights, and women’s rights. It all sounds wonderful on paper, right? Unfortunately, I hate to tell you, I was lukewarm about this novel. It was fine. Just fine. I love the writings of the Georgian and Victorian eras—truly, I do—but Gaskell’s long-winded essays on morality and melodramatic musings of the feebleness of the soul turned me off from the whole thing. If I had to read about one more person swooning to the ground, fainting of heartbreak, lying against the floorboards for hours on end, I would’ve thrown the book against a wall. Nevertheless, I liked it enough to get through it, and I understand why it caused quite the stir when it was published. It’s a neutral middle ground.
2) Witches of America by Alex Mar (4.5 out of 5): This non-fiction fascinated me. Chronicling Mar’s exploration and delving into of the nonconformist, extreme neo-pagan groups of America (along with visiting the calmer, more orthodox ones), this book was equal parts vulnerable, morbid, inspirational, disarming, and familial. Now, I know that word combination is paradoxical. I get that. But that’s simply what this book is. Learning of Mar’s own past and ancestral ties to witchcraft and paganism was touching; hearing of her experiences—both the failed and the ecstatic—is something both enveloping and encouraging to the reader. Whether you yourself dabble in the practice or are simply fascinated by neo-pagan origins, I recommend this. There are parts that are utterly disturbing (Mar speaks to an anonymous necromancer at one point who’s apparently a graverobber, for instance) and some that may be uncomfortable to some readers (lots of talk of sexuality and the power of sex), but I loved the uncensored way she approached each of these topics. She manages to humanize the ethereal quality that many of these figures are made of, and allows the reader to empathize with groups most Americans would likely turn away from. All in all, I really enjoyed this book; the pages turned quickly.
3) Bright Half-Life by Tanya Barfield (4.5 out of 5): Barfield’s two-hander play is written in a rather unconventional way: she utilizes non-chronological time skips that seem entirely arbitrary to tell the love story of two women, stretching from 1985 to 2031. Sometimes, these skips happen in the middle of a sentence; sometimes, each woman is in a different year while conversing with the other, two memories happening at once; sometimes, they return to a previous memory with an abrupt switch. All of this is done with no visual indication. And, my god, is it a beautiful play. Reading it took some adjusting for my brain: since I wasn’t watching two actors who knew exactly what they were doing, my brain had to rewire itself to keep up with the space time continuum thing Barfield has going on. Ultimately, though, it serves her characters so very well. By allowing the reader/audience in on snippets of time, we’re pushed to become both captive and omniscient in these women’s story. It makes the punches land harder, and the joy fly higher. I don’t believe I can say much else without spoiling. If you get a chance to see or read this play, take it. It’s well worth the time and mental adjustment.
4) School Girls, or: the African Mean Girls Play by Jocelyn Bioh (4 out of 5): This play made the rounds of major regional theatres a few years ago (notably, the Goodman in Chicago and MCC in New York), and is a popular one for people talking about diversity in the theatre. To tell you the truth, I have no idea why it took me this long to read. The play follows several girls at a private school in Ghana, all vying to be their nation’s representative at the Miss Global Universe pageant; queen bee Paulina is certain she’ll get it, until the arrival of Ericka, an American exchange student. All hell breaks loose after the latter’s beauty and wit catches the eye of the pageant recruiters and Paulina’s hive of friends. It’s a comedy that discusses colorism, class, the Westernization of beauty standards, and the pain of growing up. Bioh’s dialogue is biting and fast; her scenes move quickly and intentionally. She gives her actors so much to bite into: each character is fully fleshed out in her archetype (there’s a reason it’s called “the African Mean Girls Play”), both living in and breaking past those confines. It’s a powerful, funny play. All in all, I really enjoyed it. I only docked a point for a few moments feeling a touch stilted or forced to me. It’s still quite good. :)
5) Sex with Strangers by Laura Eason (3.5 out of 5): I feel like I should’ve liked this play more than I did. I think my anger at one of the characters is biasing me a little bit. Maybe that emotion means that it worked. You decide. Sex with Strangers follows two writers: one (Ethan), a 20something blogger and playboy, writing about his raunchy escapades; the other (Olivia), a 40something published author, gifted but obscure and ignored. The two meet when they’re snowed in at a rural B&B, the only two who braved the storm. It turns out that Ethan has read Olivia’s book and is a huge fan. That fandom turns into lust, and the two strike up a sexually-driven relationship, punctuated, here and there, by status and artistic improvements provided by the other. Overall, the play examines artistic identity, ownership in the digital age, toxic relationships, and love versus lust. It’s another fairly good two-hander. Unfortunately, I think I just got too annoyed with Ethan to enjoy it as much as I could have. He’s a selfish, immature dude, let me tell you, with few redeeming qualities I could find. But, as I said before, perhaps that was Eason’s intention. Maybe it worked. Either way, this is a solid middle road for me. Olivia’s insecurities and desire to better her work often hit home, and I loved her arc from doubtful to independent: she alone bumps this to a 3.5
6) Where My Wellies Take Me… by Clare and Michael Morpurgo (5 out of 5): Yes, this is children’s lit. Yes, I am including it, because A) children’s lit is a beautiful thing, and B) god, this book is so good. The Morpurgos are a couple who grew up and still live in the English countryside; their work is dedicated to teaching children about nature and the beauty of the world around them. This book aims to do just that, and it succeeds with flying colors. The beautifully illustrated picture book follows a young girl named Pippa as she tromps about her small, rural hometown, visiting all of the animals, forests, rivers, and working men and women in between. Her own story is accompanied by traditional rhymes and poetry about the natural world (Blake, Lawrence, Rossetti, Frost, and more), and interactive flaps (maps, bug discovery, tree growth, all that fun jazz): it’s all easily understandable by kiddos, but just as endearing and gorgeous for adults. I was enchanted reading it, like I was enjoying an adapted storybook. For my folks with little ones, I would say this: the book is definitely geared towards older children, so, dependent upon how your kiddos read, I would either do this in installments or simply wait until they’re older. It’s a long book, full of things to discover. It may take a few days, but it is so worth it.
7) These Witches Don’t Burn by Isabel Sterling (3.5 out of 5): I’m going to admit this upfront: I was a tad disappointed by this book. I’d seen the publicity and advertisements for months before this YA novel came out, and I was hyped to eventually read it. The plot was so promising: the magical world (that of Elementals, as the protagonist’s group is called in the book) hiding in plain sight in the real one; the return of Witch Hunters causing chaos in their community; the exploration of young queer relationships in protagonist Hannah, ex-girlfriend Veronica, and new crush Morgan. And it did, indeed, have fantasy and some badass queer representation. However, the writing style was, I felt, more juvenile than the subject matter. The words felt designed for advanced elementary readers, whereas the topics explored and plot points touched on (intimacy, violence, persecution) are definitely meant for high school age and up. That rift bothered me all the way through. It was interesting enough, plotwise, just a bit of a disappointment from the hype. A+ for representation across the spectrum of queer identity, though: that was perfection.
8) Dracula by Bram Stoker (2.5 out of 5): Yes, I know, I know. I had never read Dracula until last year. Me, who is fascinated by fantasy, mythology, and folklore for all ages, did not read the OG vampire novel until 2020. It took me too long, I get it. And, frankly, it was a tough one to get through for me. I loved the overall structure Stoker used, jumping between a variety of writing environments (Jonathan’s journal to Mina’s shorthand to Dr. Seward’s case notes to Lucy’s letters). It kept the book moving, and seeing the different points of view of the characters was an engaging, smart choice. Unfortunately, there was one throughline in every character that drove me nuts: they all felt overly melodramatic and whiney. Now, I realize this is a Gothic novel, and the angst and tension must be sky-high. However, the melodrama and constant harping on the weakness of women (when Mina saved the whole expedition and was stronger than literally any of them, let’s be truthful about that) was exhausting. Eventually I started chuckling at it, which is clearly not the intention of a freaky vampire novel. At least I can say I read it all. (And if you want a far better Gothic novel, check out the Bronte sisters or Mary Shelley. So, so much better.)
9) Anna in the Tropics by Nilo Cruz (4 out of 5): Another play, this one Pulitzer Prize-winning, surrounding Cuban cigar-makers in Ybor City in the late 1920s. When Cuban immigrants arrived in Florida and opened their cigar businesses, they brought with them another tradition: that of a lector, a well-spoken, well-dressed man who would read aloud to the workers throughout the day. That tradition was maintained until the 1930s, when the original factories and their workers were replaced by mechanization. That transition is where Cruz’s play lies, following a family-owned cigar factory as they fight aforementioned mechanization and to keep their traditions. The patriarch is fearful, his partner a money-chasing contemporary; one daughter is in an unhappy marriage, pursuing outside passion and satiation; the other is naïve and dreamy-eyed, wanting to escape the place she has grown up. All of these characters are pushed into chaos as the newly arrived lector reads them Anna Karenina, a story that finds many parallels in their changing landscape and dramatic lives. I loved this piece. It’s far different than what I normally read or see, which is a very good thing for me. The viewpoint dichotomy, the feel of a Russian epic in Florida heat, the empathy given to each characters’ flaws, the setting itself…wonderful. Again, only one point revoked, as it’s not my favorite play ever. I still enjoyed it. Certainly deserving of a Pulitzer.
10) The Forgotten Place by Jeff Locker (5 out of 5): For a 10-minute play, this piece packs a punch. I included it in my 2020 favorites for good reason. Locker’s story sits in a fantastical world wherein people interview for the best friend position. Over the course of around 10 minutes, we follow two men in this situation, as they live their future lives for us in fast-forward, speaking in hypotheticals but with such surety that the audience knows this will happen in real time. Regarding male friendship, homophobia, parenting fears, chronic illness, and forgiveness and love, Locker leaves his audience tearing up after only a short amount of time. These characters feel grounded and real; they are witty, vulnerable, and complex. That is difficult to do in only 10 minutes, and Locker gives us a master class. Agh, so good. If you want a link to read it, I can shoot you one.
11) Ghosts of the Shadow Market by Cassandra Clare, Sarah Rees Brennan, Maureen Johnson, Kelly Link, and Robin Wasserman (5 out of 5): I need to just write a whole post specifically about Clare’s Shadowhunter Chronicles. They are my favorite collection of series (I still can’t figure out how to write plural series without confusion) of all-time, what Harry Potter or Percy Jackson are to many others. She gets it right every time. Her plots are well thought out, her world impeccably designed, and (my favorite part) the characters feel like family. They are not only well-crafted with engaging story arcs, not only representative of the spectrum of humanity: they feel, quite simply, human. They’re like friends popping off the page. Clare does what the best fantasy writers do: make the situations and horrors of humanity absorbable and inquired about via a fantastical realm. She’s so good. This one was no different. Add to that that it further dove into one of my favorite characters of all time—Jem Carstairs—and I was enamored. I just…god, I love these books. With my whole heart.
12) My Own Words by Ruth Bader Ginsburg (5 out of 5): I read this book shortly after RBG passed this last year, a death that, I am not ashamed to admit, sunk me into a darkness for a few days after. She was such a bright light in the world, full of biting wit, academic prowess, fierce empathy, artistic passion, and a fighter’s spirit. I idolized that woman, and still do. This book—a collection of her writings from middle school through her 2016 term—solidified that. Her speeches and essays, though certainly largely academic, are easy to understand and full of ironclad arguments and undeniable love for the people and the country she protected. Her consideration of both sides, friendly banter with her colleagues (notably Scalia, who, as we all know, was her political opposite), pulling of arguments both national and international, and immovable presence are all palpable within this book. It was so very moving to me. You can tell she cared, even outside of her smarts. That’s something desperately needed within the judiciary, and is, unfortunately, often missing. We would all do well to take a page out of her book. Not literally, of course. ;)
13) The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White (5 out of 5): This YA retelling of Frankenstein was another on my list of 2020 favorites. Inspired by Mary Shelley’s introduction to her original publication (giving Percy most of the credit), White tells the tale of Victor and his Monster from the view of Elizabeth Lavenza, Victor’s childhood companion and soon-to-be wife. In the original novel, Elizabeth is a loving, somewhat meek woman, seemingly there only to please Victor; in this story, she is whipsmart, independent, fiercely loyal, and somewhat manipulative. She’s in survival mode, knowing that pleasing Victor means she avoids poverty. Victor is, to put it simply, a frigging psychopath who views people as mere objects to experiment on. With this general characterization in place, what follows is a feminist manifesto, of sorts, tracking the events of the classic novel from Elizabeth’s view. We meet brilliant women, see the corruption of money and power, witness the humanity of those we call “monsters” versus who we see as simply playing about (a Victorian “boys will be boys,” if you will). Elizabeth’s voice is dark, clear-headed, protective, and clever: living in her head was a torturous joy (welcome to Gothic novels). I started and finished this book within a week’s time, during finals week. So addictive. I highly recommend.
14) Sex with Kings by Eleanor Herman (3 out of 5): I felt the need for a somewhat frivolous non-fiction, and this secondhand find popped into my head. It covers the history and power of the royal mistress, jumping between France, England, Germany, and Belgium (with a few Italians thrown in). Overall, it was fine: well-researched, written in an incredibly snarky tone, and filled with anecdotal fun. I would’ve liked to see more on the effect being a mistress had on these women, on the cultural necessity surrounding it, and on the corrupting patriarchal structure, but it seemed Herman was aiming more for fun. She achieved that. It was fine.
15) A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens (4 out of 5): My final classic of the year, as I was gifted a beautiful copy of it by my grandparents for Christmas. Filled with gorgeous pencil drawings, I was immediately drawn to read it the day of Christmas, which I proceeded to do. Though I’ve seen many an adaption of Dickens’s beloved story, I had never read it until last year. It did not disappoint. Endearing, heart-warming, and query-inducing, it’s no wonder the story has remained in Anglo-American hearts for so long. Scrooge’s character arc is even better in the written short story than it is onscreen, and the voices of each Ghost were so individual and, overall, charming. If you haven’t read it, you should at least once. Point taken off for how long our boy Charles waxed poetic about turkey. Dude. I get it. You like turkey. I only needed a line or two, not a page or two.
And there we are! 2020’s reading list has been completed, only missing academic reads for class (which I assume most people don’t care about ;) ).
I hope you enjoyed, and perhaps found a few new suggestions you’re looking forward to picking up some time soon! Thank you for reading, stay tuned for part two, and have a wonderful day!
Rhiannon
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