Trailer Girl: And Other Stories

By Terese Svoboda

University of Nebraska Press

One of my favorite short story collections of all time is Black Tickets, a masterpiece written by Jayne Anne Phillips in the 1970s. So hauntingly poetic and impressive were these stories written about rootless misfits by a young and relatively unknown writer that a giant of the short story genre, Raymond Carver, contributed a blurb to the book’s back cover. He wrote: “These stories of America’s disenfranchised are unlike any in our literature. She is an original, and this book of hers is a crooked beauty.”

A ‘crooked beauty’ is also what the sixteen mostly short-short stories in Svoboda’s Trailer Girl conjure up in word pictures. Written in the style of dreamy prose poems about the alienated and edgy lives of the walking wounded, these stories shimmer and dazzle with an intensity that sometimes creates the feeling of the world as a floating, melting cloud of illusion.

In the title novella, a woman is obsessed with the idea there’s a wild child living in the gully near the trailer park where she lives but nobody believes her. Is the wild child a figment of her imagination to help her deal with the sexual abuse she suffered as a child? The other trailer residents ignore her—until there is a murder.

In “Psychic” a clairvoyant suddenly discovers her client is a murderer and then proceeds to exploit him. In “Lost the Baby,” an alcoholic couple black out and can’t remember where they dropped off their child. In “Sundress” two kicked out foster children move into a house while the owners are away on vacation and pose as house-sitting relatives. For a little while, they pretend they have a home to call their own and are blissfully happy.

Models of compression, these short stories are each skillful dramas about the lives of those on the dark side of the American dream. The style is a searing and cutting edge exploration of the long lasting effects of abuse and loss. For those who like elegantly poetic stories, Svoboda’s the real deal: a writer’s writer who unflinchingly makes us see with an almost hallucinogenic double-quick timing. Her brilliance will leave you breathless.

Review by Cheryl Reeves

Herizons Magazine (Fall 2009)

I had never heard of the Canadian feminist news magazine Herizons before receiving my copy of the Fall 2009 issue in the mail. In fact, I often avoid globally-oriented, North American feminist articles, because they too often read like a contemporary version of the white man’s burden (“Oh dear, look at the how the brown barbarians treat their women”). While Herizons didn’t completely escape this snare, on the whole it was a refreshing surprise.

The most striking feature of the publication is its emphasis on women’s power to create change in local struggles. The opening letter from the editor, introducing the issue’s theme, is entitled “The Unstoppable Women of Asia.” In glowing prose, editor Penni Mitchell describes the determination and savvy of the women behind each of the political struggles covered in the issue (including the Nepali fight for “substantive equality” to be written into the new constitution, as well as Afghan women’s protests against the patriarchal Shia Personal Status Law). This is a welcome departure from so many Western portrayals of developing countries—rather than emphasizing the repression of brown women by “uncivilized” brown men, and the oh-so-noble efforts (by Westerners, of course) to “save” those women, Herizons puts the focus on the women themselves, and in particular, their dynamic acts of resistance and their creative visions for change.

The one article that misses the mark in this regard is “Making a Statement: Gender Roles in India Slowly Changing,” which unfortunately takes the all-too-familiar stance that Westernization automatically improves the status of women. (Really, Kaj Hasselriis, does the fact that you saw a young girl in “an unusual outfit—jeans and a t-shirt” indicate that sexism in India is on its last legs?) However, thankfully, Herizons does acknowledge that sexism is also a continuing reality “at home”—in addition to the international coverage, the issue also places a focus on Canadian feminist issues, including the fight for Canadian custody laws that acknowledge the impact of domestic violence. Another “local” feature article profiles Canadian Aboriginal theater director and playwright Yvette Nolan.

On the whole, the magazine takes an optimistic, visionary tone. In fact, at times I felt that the magazine was almost too upbeat, and ran the risk of idealizing some of the activists profiled within its pages. However, the parting shot (a one-page piece by Lyn Cockburn entitled “Fall of Patriarchy Imminent”) restored the balance. In a cheery satirical tone, Cockburn reminds us that the struggle is far from over: “Given the wild success of both post-feminism and post-racism, it is no wonder that I...await post-patriarchy with barely restrained enthusiasm.” As those of us involved in activism know all too well, it’s often difficult to strike a balance between clearly naming oppression and celebrating our progress toward ending it. Herizons walks this line skillfully, emphasizing the dignity of struggle without sugarcoating the context.

While the overall quality of reportage is high, not every article makes the grade—such as Susan G. Cole’s poorly written, barely relevant column entitled “Michael Jackson’s Swan Song.” On the other hand, the feature article “Is Feminism Men’s Work, Too?” is a gem—a great short introduction to doing political work from a place of (relative) privilege. Finally, the issue closes with a multitude of engaging, well-written, and useful book and music reviews.

I’ll be picking up future Herizons issues to find out about women’s current political struggles and successes both in Canada and worldwide—and I’ll look forward to enjoying some quirky, heartening editorializing along the way.

Review by Ri J. Turner

The Last Empress: Madame Chiang Kai-shek and the Birth of Modern China

By Hannah Pakula
Simon and Schuster Press

No one will fail to notice this giant red book on your bookshelf. Nearly 800 pages long, containing two sections of photographs and spanning 137 years, Hannah Pakula’s biography of Soong May-ling, The Last Empress, better known to the world as Madame Chiang Kai-shek, the most famous wife of Chiang Kai-shek (the nationalist general who briefly united China before losing it to the communists organized under Mao Tse-tung) is a formidable conglomeration of information about many of the characters who had a hand in moving China from imperialism to communism. Readers looking for a concise, tightly organized, strategically written account of Madame’s life should look elsewhere: this book is dense with the stories of those whose lives and histories were entangled with the Chiang-Soong families and is as much a story of China as it is of Madame Chiang Kai-shek.

Unfortunately, Pakula’s style is not well suited to explaining concisely the complexities of Chinese political history in the early part of the twentieth century to the average, educated reader. This is not to say that Pakula obscures what is otherwise and elsewhere perfectly clear; the events and attitudes that initiated and characterized China’s shift from imperialism to nationalism to communism are difficult to outline cleanly.

Pakula takes a chronological approach to this biography, dividing the work into nine sections, each covering a span of several years. These sections, which are titled only according to the years they cover (which may be as few as two or as many as twenty-plus), are further broken down into chapters, the titles of which are only numbers. This chronological division is the only explicit structuring move Pakula makes, and she rarely offers her readers authorial ‘anchoring points’, which help the reader to orient her- or himself within the narrative structure. Certainly there is an overarching narrative—the intertwined trajectories of Madame Chiang Kai-shek and modern China—however, Pakula repeatedly interrupts her overarching narrative in order to insert interesting and gossipy anecdotes which can only be (thinly) justified by their chronological placement. This has the effect of flattening much of the narrative movement—important events don’t anchor the narrative or push it forward when surrounded by so many non-essential tidbits.

The story, whatever the flaws in the storytelling, is an enthralling one. Even when I grew frustrated with Pakula’s prose, I continued to read on... and on... and on. Pakula, who is carefully sympathetic to Soong May-ling, sometimes portrays her as a kind of feminist sympathizer, reinforcing May-ling’s articulate recognition of the political implications of women’s subordinate status. At other times, there are revelations of Madame’s hardness and cruelty: asked how China would respond to a difficult union leader, Madame remained silent and simply slid her hand across her throat. Madame Chiang Kai-Shek, whose political speeches charmed billions of dollars in U.S. loans to China; whose translating work for her husband helped to delay world recognition of some of his personal and political shortcomings; whose sex appeal was the subject of some amusingly purple journalism (“her teeth are visual symphonies of oral architecture.” Wow. Just wow.); who worked to improve conditions in hospitals and orphanages but spent thousands of dollars on furs and shoes and wore diamonds the size of buttons; who lived to be 105 and whose life spanned the entire twentieth century was a fascinating woman whose story could well fill several books. Pakula’s The Last Empress makes for a sometimes juicy, sometimes frustrating, but always eventful read.

Review by Kristina Grob

Southern Horrors: Women and the Politics of Rape and Lynching

By Crystal N. Feimster
Harvard University Press

Southern Horrors explores the racial and sexual politics of the Post Civil War South predominantly through the political writings, speeches, and lives of two prominent female figures of the era. Feimster describes the period through Rebecca Latimer Felton, a white woman from the stately plantation class, educated and raised during antebellum south, and Ida B. Wells, a the daughter of former slaves, raised during the reconstruction era.

The author begins by describing the two women’s origins and how they came to rally around the issues of rape and women’s protection. “Protection”, in this context, is what would be, in modern times, included in the definition of women’s suffrage. It was a push for women to obtain the right to own property, have a bank account, inherit estates, and seek justice for wrongdoings or violence done against them. Both Felton and Wells were revolutionary in their own ways, challenging and breaking through the gender norms and expectations of the era. However, their experiences were staunchly different and in many ways based solely upon their racial identities.

I found it intriguing that Feimster chose to follow both a white woman and a black woman to describe the sexual and gender violence embedded in early twentieth century politics. The strategy definitely helped to paint the entire picture of the conflicting struggles of the Southern reconstruction. On the one hand, there was a push to preserve traditional Southern norms; on the other, pressure from the black community for inclusion and equality.

Both women were particularly fascinating, especially in their approaches and ideologies. Wells highlighted that the threat of rape and sexual assault was used as a tool of control, a justification of violence against women, and a way to maintain white male supremacist power. She was a radical voice and decades ahead of her time; her ideas were characteristic of activists of the women's movement in the United States in the 1960s. Felton started her political career by advocating for rights and protection for all women, regardless of race or class, but later completely switched her views to better appeal to the male audiences and supporters.

My initial reaction to Felton’s shift in politics was outrage. I was terribly disappointed, though not surprised, in her neglect and discarding of black women’s issues. I saw a parallel of second wave feminist activism and marginalization of women of color in Felton’s shift. Her lack of conviction was frustrating and left me wondering how history may have been altered if she had held true. The text also discusses more general ideas of Southern white masculinity, black masculinity, the convict leasing system, the politics behind lynching, and both women’s involvement in and victimization of lynching.

I admire and respect the way in which Feimster presented the two women. Her analysis of the events was critical and highly thought provoking, and I often found myself sitting lost in thought after finishing a chapter. While not a leisurely read, it was enjoyable overall. There was quite a bit of material to process and think about, and I often found myself wishing I had someone to discuss it with.

While it is relatively easy to find people to discuss the issues of race and class in the South in general terms, to really engage in the material presented proved more difficult. This book would be an excellent basis of discussion on early women’s movement and the intersections of race, class, and sexuality. It also presents many hidden histories of the South, which can be shocking and intense at times.

Review by Liz Martin

Between the Sheets: Nine 20th Century Women Writers and Their Famous Literary Partnerships

By Lesley McDowell
Overlook Press

The adage, “Behind every great man is a great woman,” is a backhanded compliment to women, and one that implicitly avers a submissive feminism of codependency. At first glance, it is easy to misjudge Lesley McDowell’s Between the Sheets as a kind of backward-feminist interpretation of women writers’ literary careers, such that the success of these writers was primarily a product of the men who mentored them and who essentially produced their success.

Feminist scholars of the last three decades, of course, have written texts contesting and criticizing relations between prominent male and female literary figures. McDowell’s objective, however, is to prove that these female luminaries should not be cast as victims in these relations: “The aim of this book is...to demonstrate that none of the women artists mentioned here were victims at all, but that they chose their own fates knowingly and without the taint of victimization; that they chose such relationships in order to benefit their art and poetic consciousness.” This objective is what makes McDowell’s text praiseworthy in the larger scope of feminism: her book is an effort to move away from the culture of victimhood that plagues feminism today. In order to avoid trite notions of female victimization at the hands of men, McDowell attempts, as she explains, “to situate these liaisons at the center of these women’s emotional and literary lives, not to detract from their achievements, but to emphasize them, to show how important these relationships were to them, and why.”

The structure of Between the Sheets splits nine case studies, or literary relationships, into three sections, delimited by historical chronology as well as the geographic locale in which these relationships primarily took place. Part One, set in the 1910s and1920s, explores the relationships of Katherine Mansfield and John Middleton Murray, H.D. and Ezra Pound, and Rebecca West and H.G. Wells. Part Two, the “Paris Set” of the 1920s and 1930s, considers the relationships of Jean Rhys and Ford Maddox Ford, Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, and Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Satre—the last relationship of which, for me as a former student of philosophy, made me giddy with tales of Beauvoir and Satre pimping out their students to each other (oh, how fantastically perverse!). The third and final section is devoted to transatlantic relationships from the 1930s-1950s: Martha Gelhorn and Ernest Hemingway, Elizabeth Smart and George Barker, and Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes.

McDowell culls her information from diaries, letters, and journals, which, in all, makes for a thorough but accessible reading. The information being imparted is not revelatory, but the subtle, argumentative slant of the text is laudable for its elevation of women commonly stereotyped as victims who lived passive lives in relation to the men they loved. Anyone interested in some crisp, literary gossip should take a look at this book.

Review by Marcie Bianco

Destroying Mara Forever: Buddhist Ethics Essays in Honor of Damien Keown

Edited by John Powers and Charles S. Prebish
Snow Lion

Destroying Mara Forever is by no means a leisurely read. Reading this collection of rigorously researched essays, I found myself personally engaged with the questions raised by these great scholars and I am grateful to have had such rich food for thought. The collection honors the work of Damien Keown, now retired Professor of Buddhist Ethics at London’s Goldsmith College. Keown’s body of work has significantly shaped the field of Buddhist studies and has greatly advanced its progress into the twenty-first century.

Applying traditional Buddhist ethical principles and the arguments found in myriad texts both ancient and contemporary, the essays explore issues central to our lives today. Contributor Ian Harris states that “[traditional Buddhism] is incapable, without modification, of responding to the present environmental crisis” and as I think this collection superbly demonstrates it is not just the environmental crisis that traditional Buddhism must evolve to address, but most of today’s pressing issues. In this volume, Buddhism is called upon to take a stance on contemporary issues like capital punishment, the environment, valuation of physical appearance, consumerism, technology, and war.

My attraction to Buddhist philosophy is largely due to the principle of compassion at the heart of Buddha’s teachings, and it was with great interest that I turned to "Buddhist Perspectives on Crime and Punishment." In this essay, author Peter Harvey examines the history of torture and the death penalty in Buddhist societies and what early Buddhist texts have to say on this controversial matter.

In this and other essays, debate arises from the finer points of translation and in many cases, from individual scholars applying interpretation to more elusive words. For instance: did the renowned Indian Buddhist emperor Aśoka apply the death penalty? Some translations indicate he may have tolerated it, though there is also evidence that he was the “first [known] ruler in history recorded to have abolished the death penalty.”

Careful and critical examination of the multiple sides of an issue is consistent throughout this collection. Some fundamental precepts become obsolete as argued in one of the most thought-provoking essays, "In Search of a Green Dharma: Philosophical Issues in Buddhist Environmental Ethics." Christopher Ives examines the arguments of the great Buddhist thinkers, from Keown to Gary Snyder on topics including interdependence, responsibility, identification with nature, intrinsic value, equality, animal rights, and the sacredness of nature as they relate to the current environmental crisis.

We see how examining contemporary environmental issues through a lens of traditional Buddhist doctrine can quickly create absolutes and even hold the wrong parties responsible. For example the doctrine of pratītya-samutpāda "conveys that nothing has a soul or unchanging essence" and therefore we are all interdependent parts of a single greater self. Zen teacher Joan Halifax calls this the greater "ecological self". To follow this line of thinking, Ian Harris says "then the black rhino depends on the hydrogen bomb, the rainforest on the waste dump."

The essays collected in Destroying Mara Forever do not shy away from questioning the relevance of foundational doctrine to answer today's greatest ethical dilemmas, and do so in pointed and respectful debate that leads one to continue that questioning and apply it to other issues.

Review by Matsya Siosal

Shot

By Christine Hume
Counterpath Press

It seems like it has become very fashionable for poetry collections to have short and ambiguous titles. We are long past the era where poems’ titles were incredibly detailed, as in “To my Lover, Upon Discovering that I Forgot to Do the Dishes and Churn the Butter. Autumn 1864.” I was drawn to Christine Hume’s Shot because it sounded promising, between the edgy title and the vague descriptions I could find through online previews. Her work lives up to my expectations.

When read aloud, Hume’s poetry has a certain melodic quality, by turns both jarring and soothing. This skillful placement of words goes hand in hand with an ability to create rhythm that evokes action, as in this phrase that is reminiscent of a failed attempt to start a car: ”My pulse stuck to the signal: turnoverturnoverturn.” An engine can almost be heard turning over–and even if that’s not the image Hume was shooting for, that’s just an example of the way this work is open to interpretation.

The recurring symbols in this collection of poetry are very decidedly feminine: night, moon, and darkness are all portrayed with feminine characteristics, such as wearing makeup or having skirts or female genitalia. Most pronouns are female, particularly when describing a character that seems integral to the poem in a positive manner. A rebellious edge sneaks into some of the poetry too, without being too specific as to its target. The poem “Um, Um...” starts out: “You may pound this night as much as you please/ You will never pound into me what you think.”

The only weakness is that the abstract personification of both objects and concepts occasionally borders on the obscure. Nontraditional uses of parts of speech make for interesting reading, but at a certain point it becomes almost distracting. Beautiful imagery sometimes results from this seemingly random pairing of words seventy percent of the time, however.

Some feminists in unquestioning support of women’s reproductive rights might find the detailed and rather opinionated narrative of the first section slightly unnerving: it’s a dialogue between a pregnant woman and her fetus. That can be considered under the catch-all of poetry’s ability to be random, to say one thing and mean another. Sometimes metaphor makes for objectivity. All things considered, this collection of poetry was mind-bending and a celebration of the feminine, both dark and light aspects.

Review by Sam Williams

The Bathers

Photographs by Jennette Williams
Duke University Press

A collection of striking black and white stills, The Bathers is not just about the theme of bathers, but more importantly about the way women are portrayed and perceived. Winner of the Center for Documentary Studies/Honickman First Book Prize in Photography, Jennette Williams states that her initial project was: “to photograph without sentiment and objectication (sic) women daring enough to stand before [her] camera.” The photos illustrate that there is no doubt that she has achieved her goal. Despite being a volume of photographs of the feminine body (all except one shot), this oeuvre compounds in one tome the exact opposite of what most modern-day mainstream media presents of the objectified female figure.

In William’s lauded collection of photos, the female forms are shown in all their plump softness, reflecting the reigning ambiance of the collection: a peaceful reflection that can be seen not only in the visages of the women represented but also in the muted colours of the platinum prints. In the faces of these Hungarian and Turkish women, we find the same gaze that existed in Auguste Renoir’s early twentieth century paintings of “his” bathing subjects. It is probably this mysterious contemplation that explains artists’ fascination for bathers as subjects: a dream-like placidity and sense of inner calm. The prominence of rolls, folds, dimples, body hair, bellies, and nipples is natural although sometimes veiled by the often-foggy images; William also manipulates light and shadow expertly; one can almost feel the cocooning humidity of the public baths.

The representation of this serenity contrasts with the modern stereotypical depiction of the female body, the Tyra Banks-coined squint–or “smizing”–and purely angular (sometimes skeletal) silhouettes that are so coveted by most of the globe’s population. There are few shots in Williams' collection that do not display flesh in a way that is completely foreign to North American media (birthplace of the Playboy Bunny!). These “Cosmo-type” bodies are rare in the book, and even so-called “imperfect” bodies such as the very controversial silhouette of “plus-sized” (U.S. size 12-14!) are few. Most of the women have strong rounded figures that stand out in the stark detailing of the photographs. You’ll remember 20-year-old model Lizzie Miller’s charmingly rounded tummy from a recent issue of Glamour magazine, yet the magazine’s most recent issue still provides us with advice on how to dress ten pounds thinner.

This attractive volume is thought-provoking because it defies stereotypical gender norms and photo enthusiasts will also find it to be a very stunning collection of images.

Review by Sophie M. Lavoie

Shakti Pendant

K Robins Designs

The K Robins Designs is located on four acres near Wintergreen Mountain Resort in Nellysford, Virginia. It is not surprising that K Robins learned how to carve her designs in wax and cast them in silver from famous flute maker Patrick Olwell, because her jewelry has a very melodious fluidity to its composure. Robins’ original designs come in sterling silver and fourteen carat gold. They are divided into five themes: 1) goddesses, mothers, and daughters, 2) sacred symbols, 3) yoga and meditation, 4) Celtic lore, and 5) meditation.

Robins is a woman after my own heart with the vision for her creations, “Our mission is to discover and create archetypal images and symbols that transcend the personal, resonate with the universal, and soothe the soul.” That is exactly what she has done with the Shakti piece I am currently wearing.

For Hindus, shakti is a generic term used for the many incarnations of the Mother Goddess, a divinely feminine power of creative energy. Shakti represents the dynamic life forces that move through the entire universe. The beauty of this pendant, as well as Robins' other designs, is that they are not so specific in nature that they cannot be many things to many wearers. They serve as communication tools to share while moving about in the world. They can be worn as a sign of strength, serve as pacts between friends, given as heirlooms, or all three.

What is just as beautiful as K Robins’ jewelry is the mission behind her work, which supports art as activism, empowers women, and focuses on sustainability. Her pieces are personal and inviting, peaceful yet capturing, and unassuming yet inspirational. The company's website is just as enriching as the artwork and gives the story behind Robins' decision to share her gift with the public, as well as the people who continue to inspire her. The prices are extremely reasonable while the aesthetics are invaluable.

Review by Olupero R. Aiyenimelo

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet

By Jamie Ford
Ballantine Books

Some of the best American literature tells the story of the immigrant experience. Numerous writers have written about the sense of loss both material and psychological that comes with leaving your country and everything that is familiar to start a new life. Many of the characters in these novels never seem completely at home in their new land, but they soldier on for economic reasons, or because they’re committed to making a life in this new world

Equally compelling is the story of first-generation Americans who have one foot in the modern world and one foot in the past. Henry, the protagonist and narrator of Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet is first introduced to us as a fifty-six-year old man who has recently lost his wife to cancer after caring for her for seven years. Henry has taken early retirement from his job at Boeing Field to care for his wife, Ethel, and now his life seems empty and purposeless. His college aged son disapproved of his decision to care for his wife at home rather than placing her in a nursing home that would have provided round-the-clock professional care givers and is emotionally distant from him, and Henry seems alone and disconnected in the world.

Henry, who is Chinese American finds himself pulled back into the past when he walks past a large crowd that is gathered at the Panama Hotel in what used to be known as Nihonmachi or Japantown. In the midst of a major renovation of the hotel, the belongings of twenty-seven Japanese families presumably interned during World War II have been discovered in the basement of the hotel. Until this time, Henry has managed to keep the memories of that difficult time at bay, but the discovery of these treasures leads him to begin searching for a rare jazz record that also symbolizes a lost childhood love.

As the novel effortlessly moves between the narrative voices of the older Henry and twelve-year-old Henry who came of age during World War II, we learn what life was like for a young Chinese American boy growing up in Chinatown. Henry’s father is a nationalist who hates the Japanese for their aggressive military incursions into China and is a respected elder member of an association in Chinatown that is actively supporting the war effort in China. Because he wants his son to become fully Americanized, Henry can speak only English at home although his parents can barely understand him. Henry also has to wear a “I am Chinese” button whenever he leaves the house so he won’t be taken for being Japanese. Henry looks Chinese, but thinks like an American, which only leads to a sense of double isolation. He is literally isolated from his parents because they won’t let him converse with them in their native language and he feels isolated at the all Caucasian school where he is “scholarshipping” because the children taunt him for looking different.

Enter Keiko, a Japanese American girl who begins scholarshipping at the school. Henry and Keiko have an almost instant bond. Suddenly, working in the cafeteria and serving meals to his fellow classmates isn’t such a trial. Henry’s parents don’t approve of his friendship with Keiko—in his father’s eyes, Henry is a traitor for befriending the enemy. Henry finds a welcome ally in his friendship with Sheldon, a saxophone player and street performer who Henry gives his lunch to every day on the way to school. In the midst of all of this, all persons of Japanese origin (including American citizens) are evacuated to internment camps and Keiko’s family is eventually relocated to a camp in Idaho.

Once I started reading this book, I found myself pulled into the story and the historical details of these events that are often glossed over in historical accounts. The author writes compassionately about the experiences of Japanese families during this time. His vivid descriptions of Japantown and Chinatown transport the reader back in time to a difficult period in American history. Henry’s lifelong friendship with Sheldon and his love of jazz are a continuous thread in the novel along with Henry’s undying love for Keiko. I especially liked the characters of Sheldon and Mrs. Beatty, the woman who manages the school cafeteria and becomes an unlikely friend to Henry. Does Henry find Keiko after all the years of separation? You’ll have to read the book to find out.

Review by Gita Tewari

The Witch’s Coin: Prosperity and Money Magick

By Christopher Penzcak
Llewellyn Worldwide

What if you were given the opportunity to not only overcome your financial burdens, but still have enough money to spare? After ending a year filled with recession woes, 2010 is a time of hope for many of us. According to award-winning author Christopher Penczak, anyone can now earn a little green with the help of Mother Nature. In his latest book, The Witch's Coin, readers can transform poverty into prosperity through spells and lessons in Finance 101. While this book will appeal to pagans who are familiar with using herbs, candles, and oils to help better their lives, those who need guidance will greatly benefit from the many lessons Penczak provides. The Witch's Coin is a must-have for a new year of possibilities.

Penczak is no stranger to readers following the pagan religious tradition. As an eclectic Wiccan, he’s published several books that teach the basics of witchcraft, including The Inner Temple of Witchcraft and City Magick. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that Penczak would finally release a book on managing one’s finances through spell work, a misunderstood subject that can be as complex as improving one’s love life. Sadly, when someone is suffering from a credit crunch, carefully wording a “prayer” to the universe can be the last thing on our minds. Fortunately, Penczak breaks down the rules of how one can learn to open up opportunities for themselves.

“Just because society sets a standard and you desire it, there is nothing evil or wrong with that desire, as long as you are clear and unattached with that desire,” he states. “New cars, big homes, vacations, and big investments are not good or bad by themselves.” Most importantly, we must learn to have balance in our lives for any spell to work. After all, what would be the purpose of having money if we can’t better ourselves with it? Finally paying off those credit card debts is a major step, but also putting some cash aside to pursue a lifelong passion that can open new doors is also another way to use magic for positive results. Best of all, Penzcak reveals numerous ways on how we can create our paths to financial victory.

One of the many wonderful things Penzcak provides in The Witch's Coin are easy-to-follow spells that not only help attract positive energy, but also assist readers in better understanding their goals. He recommends simply writing out our desires, which is a way for us to visually see what we need to make happen. “Ask for what you want, not necessarily the exact circumstance of how to get it,” he explains. “In the preceding spell, I asked for a job that is acceptable to me, fulfilling my personal criteria, and advancing my career. I didn’t ask for a specific position in a specific company. I could have, but that would close the doors to many opportunities that my magick could have manifested.”

In addition, Penzcak includes recipes for “money attraction incense” and even a “milk and honey bath,” all encompassing herbs have been used for hundreds of years. Who wouldn’t want to relax with fresh ginger and orange peel to calm our bodies and clear our minds? According to Penzcak, the scent of rich cinnamon and clove alone can “expand your consciousness, rather than contract fear and tension” when balancing the checkbook. Even if you’re creating a charm to obtain a new job, he notes, “Focus on what you want, not on what you don’t want.” Whether you’re a pagan practitioner or not, anyone can benefit from advice on realizing what we want for ourselves and how dreams can become a reality.

Real magic comes from within and goals can only come alive with work and determination. This seems obvious, but too few believe in it. Whether you’re looking to pay off pesky bills or going job hunting, The Witch's Coin is a timely hit on covering the one topic everyone should master.

Review by Stephanie Nolasco

A Jihad For Love

By Parvez Sharma
First Run Features



To ponder the relationship between Islam and homosexuality is to consider something that does not exist. Parvez Sharma’s groundbreaking documentary, A Jihad for Love, calls this frequently held assumption what it is: a lie. A Jihad for Love is a deep exploration of Islam and homosexuality gleaned through the eyes of several gays, lesbians, and trans-genders set across the Muslim world. Filmed in twelve countries and in nine languages, it is a collection of stories that alternate between poignancy and the heart-wrenching battle between the equally challenging loves of faith and of humanity. Sharma effectively demonstrates the nuances that exist within different Muslim nations that have complicated attitudes concerning homosexuality based on the nation’s history and the different branches of Islam defying easy and/or lazy generalizations.

In depicting the struggles of the Muslim LGBT community, A Jihad for Love, shows that there are myriad perspectives in within their faith community. It begins in a nation that has a growing reputation for acceptance of the community: South Africa (the nation became the first in Africa and only the fifth in the world to legalize same-sex marriage in 2006). We learn the story of Muhsin, a gay imam who in his early life married and had children but eventually recognized his sexuality and began a process toward reconciling his sexuality with the faith that he also loved. The subsequent journey is not just one of self-discovery but also one in which the community discovers its faith anew and where there is a mutual understanding of far greater depth.

Moving north, we find a less fortunate but no less redemptive story in the Egyptian student Mazen. He is imprisoned after his arrest under the nation’s “indecency laws” which make homosexuality illegal and is in jail for nearly a year before being sentenced to an additional three years. He escapes, and upon reviewing a video recording of the trial, his anger is still raw, palpable.

The story of the Turkish lesbian couple of Ferda and Kiymet was one that I found most poignant. In particular, when Ferda introduces Kiymet to her mother, as it was a beautiful experience that I immediately related to. Upon the conclusion of the meeting, Kiymet says something that I could imagine my lover saying after meeting my mother: “Perfect!” I was as elated for Kiymet as I was for my partner and myself after we went through that “parental meeting” stage of our relationship. Turkey is more tolerant of homosexuality and the film briefly explores the connection between this state of affairs and the branch of Islamic mysticism, Sufism.

The three stories mentioned above among others brought knowledge to bear on my own misconceptions concerning the Islamic faith and homosexuality. The unprecedented focus of A Jihad for Love should continue the much-needed discussion between LGBT Muslims who seek to love within this peaceful and beautiful faith and the Islamic umma at large and bring knowledge and compassion to bear within such dialogue so that those that feel forced to love in secret can one day know the immutable joys of freedom.

Review by Brandon Copeland

Vegetarian Dishes from Across the Middle East

By Arto der Haroutunian
The Experiment

The late Arto der Haroutunian first published this book in 1983 when how-to's for vegetarian cooking—let alone for Middle Eastern vegetarian cooking—were relatively rare in the U.S. Ahead of his time, der Haroutunian's tome of some 250 recipes laid dormant and out of print for 20 years. This new reissue is the first time the book has been available in North America.

As a vegetarian, lover of Middle Eastern food, and cooking newbie, I was thrilled to get my hands on this book. As an added bonus, many of the recipes are vegan, or can be easily tailored to be vegan. I resolved to make half a dozen recipes before reviewing this book, some more than once. After doing so, I've decided that I have a love/hate relationship with said book. My partner, who is an engineer, put it this way: “There is so little instruction that if this was a booklet that came with something you bought at IKEA, it would say, 'Assemble your furniture.'”

Translation: it's assumed that you have as much culinary knowledge as the author. For someone like me—who did not own a set of pots and pans until receiving them as a wedding gift—this made crafting recipes a bit difficult. The recipes don't make any mention of this when referring to the type tools needed—“place mixture in a baking dish”—you're left light on specifics. What kind of baking dish? Pyrex? Stainless? Deep? Shallow?

Some of the baking times were also way off; had I not checked on the potato eggeh, for instance, we might have had a fire in the oven. Ditto with my first try at pita bread: the book forbids you to open the oven before the rounds have baked for 10 minutes, but in my oven that made them a bit tough and crunchy on top. (On my second attempt, baking them for seven minutes, they turned out soft, yummy, and addictive.)

That said, many of the difficulties I encountered could be placed squarely on the shoulders of the American publisher. They failed to take into consideration the fact that flour available for purchase in the U.S. (the cook is simply instructed to use “all-purpose flour”) varies from flour available in the Middle East and the U.K. (the author lived in both places during his lifetime). I seriously doubt the rishta (homemade pasta) was supposed to have the doughy taste that it did; coming up with pasta that tasted like pasta required some research on my part, and the use of semolina flour.

The publisher also did not think to include metric conversion for those of us on this side of the Atlantic; my partner was standing by with a calculator and table, lest I guess wrong and blow up the bread. Lastly, with no photographs—other than the very phallic-looking eggplants on the cover—it was visually disappointing and looked like a textbook.

Despite these disappointments, with a little tinkering, we came up with some delicious homemade food. Other points in the book's favor: all of the ingredients are relatively easy to come by, and don't require a chef's talent to make. Just some patience and experimentation is required.

Review by M.L. Madison

East African Hip Hop: Youth Culture and Globalization

By Mwenda Ntarangwi
University of Illinois Press

Ntarangwi’s book on hip hop culture in East Africa could be used as an academic treatise for music and cultural classes in any university in America. Generally speaking, when we create something, very rarely are we aware of the far-reaching implications that creation may have outside of our immediate scope. Hip hop has been one such creation. Similar to jazz, hip hop was, in part, created out of the need to communicate what did not want to be heard, at first. Put in this matter of fact way, it was only natural that this phenomenon spread across cultures with very similar communication glitches.

East African Hip Hop succinctly details the impact hip hop has had on the East African population, as well as the impact East African hip hop artists are having on youth in their respective communities. Ntarangwi opens with the effects of globalization and youth culture in East Africa. Globalization has often resulted in an entire continent being left out of a process of ideas and decisions that factor in the value of their resources, while devaluing the people that could benefit the most. The remnants of colonialism and neocolonialism are embedded into the psyches of those that profit, as well as those that are taken advantage of in this profitization. Indirect rule, which is often synonymous with “puppet,” makes it difficult to tell which leaders desire to act in the best interests of their constituents, especially when they are all of the same color. This tactic was a major part of colonialism and is one distinctive aspect that affects what is communicated across cultures. However, in the U.S., the assumption of who the perpetrators are rarely ventures outside of historical context. With Ntarangwi’s use of Malcolm X as an example, what is seen as a struggle against White supremacy in American hip hop is seen as a struggle for land ownership and access in East African hip hop. The indoctrination of Western values and its bootstrap mentality are also what have colored communication.

The HIV/AIDS epidemic in Africa has given rise to an increase in the number of songs about its concern by East African hip hop artists, as well as societal issues concerning gender and tradition. Even with this increase, the tradition of chastity, or the appearance of it by women, has typically made the topic of sexuality a silent one, for fear of the repercussions of challenging cultural mores. East African hip hop is changing this perception as well.

Ntarangwi touches on so many important issues that have propagated the spread of hip hop into a portion of the world that has, up until recently, been kept silent. A portion of the world that has been silent both forcibly and because only now is the medium of hip hop one of the most powerful ways with which to get a message across. Ntarangwi has effectively expounded upon a subject matter that can no longer be silenced.

Review by Olupero R. Aiyenimelo

Fela Kuti - The Best Of The Black President (Deluxe Edition)

Knitting Factory Records

Are you kidding me? What Fela fan does not want a two-disc music compilation along with a bonus DVD of interviews and concert footage? That aforementioned statement wasn’t a question, but I don’t like seeing the green underlining that Microsoft Word displays when it doesn’t agree with what you’ve written, so I oblige. My only complaint is that it doesn’t have more songs, more footage, and more shiny pictures.

Those of you who are fans of the late Fela Anikulapo Kuti probably already have these songs in your collection. However, with the recent Broadway show of Fela! The Musical, this collection includes bonus features of interviews with Fela biographer, Carlos Moore, director, choreographer, and co-writer of the Broadway production, Bill T. Jones, and Fela himself—a collection that would invoke envy from any avid world music fanatic.

Fela Anikulapo Kuti (1938-1997) might have been a doctor, as was the desire of his parents, but instead he heeded his calling to the music world. Fela was born in Nigeria where Highlife music originated. After studying jazz in the United States, he chose to blend those lessons with Highlife music to create a unique and soulful fusion that has influenced people the world over. A part of this tasty concoction that he would later term Afro-Beat, included the philosophy and writings of Black activists and thinkers like Malcolm X, Eldridge Cleaver, and other Black Panther figures. This blend made Fela a formidable opponent of the corruption that was going on in Nigeria. Finding himself the subject of constant backlash in the form of beatings, jailing and harassment did not stop the persistence and determination that Fela maintained in exposing the scandalous behavior of Nigerian leaders. Even the death of his mother as a result of injuries she sustained during one of the many raids to his living quarters did not silence Fela. The constant battle between Fela and the Nigerian government only increased his popularity.

Fela was, indeed, a unique individual; many people who have heard of him are only familiar with the eccentricity he displayed in marrying all of the women in his band, or his declaration to be the next President of Nigeria (1979) under his “Movement of the People” Party. I urge you to study Fela’s music from the approach of an activist and a musician, and/or someone who simply loves music. Fela’s contribution to human rights and music is inseparable and invaluable.

Review by Olupero R. Aiyenimelo

Women and Judaism: New Insights and Scholarship

Edited by Frederick E. Greenspahn
New York University Press

Why is it that so many scholars—people well-versed in captivating ideas and history—are dry writers? Being a feminist with Jewish roots, I was really excited to review Women and Judaism. Divided into four sub-categories: classical tradition, history, contemporary life, and literature—the volume did present some very interesting thoughts on women's role within the Jewish religion. Unfortunately, like many textbooks I remember from college, Women and Judaism was written in a scholarly, rather than engaging, format. While there were a few authors who were exceptions, this dry style dampened my enthusiasm for what could have been a fascinating read.

That said, if you can wade through the style, the meat of the book is definitely worth checking out. For starters, there is some interesting discussion about the relationship between Judaism and feminism—the authors don't believe them to be mutually exclusive. Rather than justify the sexism written into historical Judaic documents, several of the authors make the point that it is the sexism of the time that led to the inequity in religious texts—and they think that modern Judaism can, and should, move past it. This is probably the book's key theme: the authors challenge the idea that Judaism is a fundamentally sexist religion, arguing that changing times call for changing practices.

Some of the bare historical facts (the first female rabbi was not ordained until 1972!) were shocking in terms of how late women were accepted into leadership roles, and how long it took for them to be included in traditionally male roles and ceremonies. The essays of Pamela S. Nadell (“Women and American Judaism”) and Sylvia Barack Fishman (“Women's Transformation of Contemporary Jewish Life”) are both eye-opening and highlight the importance of Jewish feminists in the second wave of the women's movement in the United States.

As a writer, the section on literature was of particular interest to me. “Text, Nation and Gender in Israeli Women's Fiction,” by Nehama Aschkenasy, is a very interesting piece; she analyzes the still-evolving feminist literary response to the historically male-dominated Israeli culture. But as Sara R. Horowitz notes in “Women in Jewish American Literature,” sexism has curtailed the celebration and acknowledgment of Jewish women writers in the United States until the last quarter century, which she describes as a “sea change.”

If you can plod through some of the narratives, the ideas contained in this volume make it worth reading each of the essays.

Review by M.L. Madison

Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963

By Susan Sontag
Edited by David Rieff
Picador

When reading fictionalized journals, one never experiences the sense of the guilt that results from a real intrusion into someone’s private thoughts and personal life. The fictive writer simply does not exist. When the journal being read belongs to someone who has had a very real public persona, the reader will always experience a few uncomfortable moments. In reading Susan Sontag’s journals, this feeling is amplified tenfold. Firstly, these are the journals of a young woman who eventually became a famous writer and intellectual—the journals start when Sontag is only fourteen years of age. Secondly, the fact that her son, editor and author David Rieff, edited the journals for publication and glimpsed his mother’s private garden is a bit daunting.

From the outset, the thorny question of the dual son-editor role that David Rieff plays should be addressed. Any editor would have chosen to trim down the journals, which span sixteen years of Sontag’s life. This period, and the resulting length of the journals, would be excessive for any publication, and Rieff plans to issue two other tomes covering the rest of her personal writing. In choosing to publish the journals in the first place, the decision to “censure” some of its parts seems questionable. Censure is a term Rieff clearly rejects, citing “the literary dangers and moral hazards of such an enterprise.” But, how could he not let his own emotions act as filters to his mother’s journals’ contents? Rieff sometimes selects “a few representative entries,” while other times he omits complete sections intentionally (as with Sontag’s notes about her trip to Italy) and includes thoughts that had been redacted in the original journals by Sontag herself. Inexplicably for someone so prolific in her journal-keeping, there is a notable absence of notebooks for the years 1951-1952, the years Sontag was first married.

Sontag’s journals were clearly not meant for an audience, contrary to some journals of other famous authors. In his (often moving) introduction, Rieff recognizes that his “decision [to publish] certainly violates [his mother’s] privacy.” The notebooks consist of Sontag’s private thoughts and experiences, and also of random lists, facts, and information. They were most certainly kept by the author to remind herself of some of these pieces of information: films seen, books read, or to be read. It could be argued that the fact that she abbreviates some of her lovers’ names meant she was concerned about possible readers (or snoops) and she also codes some words/ideas with an “X” which Reiff does not (cannot?) interpret.

Sontag’s journals provide some fascinating insight into the author’s development from late adolescence into adulthood, and provide rare glimpses into very private aspects of her life: her homosexuality, her divorce, and various other life experiences. Her “feelings” and personal insights, which we normally associate with a personal journal, are only a minor element in the journals, but probably what most readers will seek the most in her private writings. Although much of the material starts off with a date and the editor provides some guidance in deciphering the entries (possible locations, for example), one only gets the sense, but for brief moments, that we are “along for the ride” with Sontag. As all who have attempted to write journals know, the writing is often sporadic, linked to decisive moments in life and/or strong emotions. For Sontag, as they are for most people, these notable periods were the beginnings of her studies in university and of her writing, her homosexual adventures, the birth and raising of her son, and some of her travels. These snapshots show a different side of Sontag, one that does not always match her public persona. She questions her reactions to love and carnal pleasures, motherhood, marriage, and filial relationships, among other things.

Usually, the publication of journals or correspondence takes place many years after a person’s passing. Sontag passed on in 2004 and this publication allows us to discover another side of her, since the journals were the vehicle for, as she called it, her “sense of selfhood.”

Review by Sophie M. Lavoie

Little Fish – Darling Dear

Motown Records

At one point in the chaos of alley-crawling and narrow escapes that is the “Darling Dear” video, Little Fish frontwoman Juju beats up a guitar-wielding hipster boy, steals his guitar and straps it on before she launches in a furious bout of The Rocking. It is precisely this raw frenetic energy that attracted the attention of Custard Records, the label launched by singer/songwriter/producer Linda Perry (4 Non Blondes). Baffled & Beat, Little Fish's full-length album from Custard produced by Perry, is scheduled for an early 2010 release. In the meantime, we have “Darling Dear,” a three-song maxi-single guaranteed to rock off the socks of every music fan lucky enough to listen.

Winners of the “Guitar Hero Best Rock Act” at the 2008 UK Indy Music Awards and the subject of fawning adoration from BBC Radio Oxford, Little Fish released “Darling Dear” in mid-October. In short order the group has gone on to share the stage with the likes of Juliette Lewis and Alice in Chains. They're a rare breed of band—self-aware without being self-important. They know full well that they're making stellar wall-shaking rock n' roll, but they're not pretentious about it.

Self-taught guitarist Juju is a singer/songwriter whose warm raspy voice has been compared to Patti Smith and PJ Harvey. To me, there are also hints of Johnette Napolitano, and yes, even a bit of Linda Perry. Drummer Nez is right there keeping up every step of the way, which is a mighty undertaking, especially given the rapidly escalating rhythm of “Darling Dear.” It starts out slow then builds to a glorious pulsating frenzy. Here, Juju's voice struts and swaggers like one of a seasoned rock star; she looses pitch perfect screams with a precision that Janis Joplin would envy.

As a second track, “Sweat and Shiver” is cleaner-sounding, almost poppy in comparison to the song that preceded it. Thankfully, though, it's not pristine. Not by a long shot. Harmonies beautify scuzzy febrile lyrics like “My eyes are glazed/I'm pretendin' to sleep” and “Hands and knees/crawlin' on the floor/Cigarette burnin' on a cockroach floor.” Little Fish is following a classic pop/rock music formula with this song—stuffing grimy unpleasant imagery in the sweet swirling center of harmony and repetition.

Of the three tracks, “Whiplash” sounds the most up-to-the-minute British post-punk. At two minutes and fifty-one seconds, it's the shortest of the three tracks, and ends abruptly. It has all the earmarks of a set-ender. It's the short upbeat track you hope will be played at the close of a brilliant show. It's a song that gets a crowd dancing before BAM! Throw down a guitar grown heavy on exhausted shoulders, fling away drumsticks and walk off panting backstage for a pull from a bottled beer before stumbling back out for an encore.

And believe you me, after everything Little Fish puts in their music, you'll be screaming yourself hoarse for an encore.

Review by M. Brianna Stallings

CoverYourHair.com $50 Box of Hair Accessories Giveaway Contest

Hats, tichels, pony holders, headbands, bandanas—CoverYourHair.com has it all. This month Feminist Review is giving one of our readers a chance to win a box of hair accessories valued at $50 from this fashion-conscious company.

Here's how it works:
Visit CoverYourHair.com then leave a comment here by February 25th telling us which items are your favorites. Make sure to include your name and a valid email address where we can contact you if you are the winner. This giveaway is open to all of our readers worldwide.

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The winner will be announced on March 1st.

The Cuban Revolution (1959-2009): Relations with Spain, the European Union, and the United States

By Joaquín Roy
Palgrave MacMillan

Joaquín Roy’s study is, to my knowledge, the most comprehensive attempt to define Cuba’s relationship to the Western World (Europe and the U.S.) in the past 50 years. There is no question of its timely publication—to coincide with the fifty year anniversary of the Cuban Revolution (1959-2009). Indeed, this is a moment when the world is questioning the ability of this small island nation to remain independent and politically isolated while in permanent conflict with the most powerful nation in the world and only 90 miles from its coast. How on earth did Castro’s Cuba survive? Why hasn’t it, like many other Latin American nations fallen prey to either an insidious or explicit United-States sponsored decline? In Nicaragua, the Sandinistas certainly did (1990), and in Chile, Salvador Allende did, almost twenty years before (1973). What specifically makes Cuba exceptional?

Roy is very well placed to deal with these questions since he is the author of more than thirty books on the European Union (EU), Cuba, and the U.S.’ diplomatic relations and policies. His study Cuba, the United States, and the Helms-Burton Doctrine: International Reactions previously explored some of the larger points that he develops in this more recent tome.

At a time when left-leaning governments are being elected in many Latin American countries and seemingly coming together, Roy’s analysis is precious. It details the ebb and flow of an ever-shifting diplomacy in great detail, ranging from the specifics of economic aid from individual countries or from the EU, to the intricate rapport between high level officials, the “butterfly-effects” of diplomacy—if ever there was one in the political sphere.

Roy’s study reviews the notorious aspects of the Cuban diplomacy, such as the Helms-Burton Law (Cuban embargo, or “blockade” [bloqueo] as the Cubans call it), and adds detail to this bigger picture. Because Cuba’s independence is such a novelty (it was the last Latin American colony to achieve sovereignty in 1898 after more than four centuries of colonial rule), the analysis goes back to the beginning of the island, providing much detail on the rocky foundations of the autonomous country, a period which lasted about 50 years before the Revolution. Roy also delves into more complex aspects of Cuba’s relations with Spain after the signing of the Treaty of Paris and the “end” of the Spanish Empire, navigating the contrasts and parallels between the Franco and post-Franco relations.

Of course, Roy’s attempt to separate the analyses of each country in individual chapters is futile since the aforementioned “butterfly effect” makes all diplomacy unavoidably intertwined. Many decisions are entangled and, especially in recent years, reactions to any statement are instantaneous. The rotating presidency of the EU is one of the most convoluted examples of this; each country has its diplomacy, and the EU has its own relations, but since the presidency is revolving, this provokes knotting and redundancies. Yet, while reading Roy’s text, one is never lost in his analysis and this despite the detail it contains. Because it synthesizes many different points of view, this work is essential to anyone endeavoring to understand just why the Cuban Revolution is still alive. Of course, Roy doesn’t provide us with the answer to that question, but then again, neither does (or can?) anyone else.

Review by Sophie M. Lavoie

Signifying Bodies: Disability in Contemporary Life Writing

By G. Thomas Couser
University of Michigan Press

We live in an age in which the memoir has become the preeminent genre. Writers of the contemporary memoir are not required to be a “somebody” or famous personality before publication. This is the age of the “nobody” memoir—the writings of individuals who tell stories of lives that in previous ages would have remained untold. In his thought-provoking book, Signifying Bodies: Disability in Contemporary Life Writing, author and professor of English at Hofstra University, G. Thomas Couser, argues that with these modern memoirs we have seen an astonishing proliferation of personal narratives about disability—from personal stories about illnesses like HIV/AIDS, or breast cancer, to accounts of mental illness, narratives by people living with physical disabilities such as blindness or mobility impairments, and accounts of addiction.

These “some body” writings, as Couser somewhat ironically terms them, have arisen in the wake of the civil rights movements of the last several decades. They not only provide a previously unknown level of visibility to people with non-normative bodies in our society, but they also provide a means for self-representation in which “disabled people counter their historical objectification (or even abjection) by occupying the subject position.” At the same time, Couser observes, these writings are largely mediated by publishers, the marketplace, and our collective preconceived notions of what constitutes acceptable narratives of disability. As such, they may play into stereotypes and reinforce our culture’s ableism. Thus, one extremely common pattern of the disability memoir is that of an individual who triumphs over adversity (think the amputee mountain climber, or the blind runner). In these stories, disability is a “problem” that must be “overcome” by a single, exceptional individual. These books contain no collective action, no political awareness of how our society is structured to marginalize people with disabilities, and no questioning of the status quo.

In a later chapter, Couser contrasts this kind of narrative to the work of memoirists like Anne Finger whose Elegy for a Disease goes beyond an individual account of her disability to include interviews with other survivors of polio and quotes from other memoirists. Says Finger, “I do not want to give you just my story…I also want to write about the social experience of disability.” Couser identifies Finger’s book as belonging to a set of new post-ADA disability memoirs in which authors consciously attempt to avoid the clichés of triumph over adversity, or providing a voyeuristic experience of “the other.” He also notes that these new memoirs come from a privileged group within the disability community itself—white professionals whose access to resources such as education has provided them with the means to understand and tell their stories within a larger social context.

In another chapter, Couser provides thought provoking discussions of documentary filmmaking about people with disabilities, discussing one film in particular—Face To Face: The Schappell Twins—as an example of an exceptional documentary that avoids freak show exploitation while pushing the audience to question notions of normality, individuality and privacy by taking them into the world of Reba and Lori Schappell, conjoined twins. He also examines Marjorie Wallace’s extraordinary biography of June and Jennifer Gibbons, The Silent Twins, who were elective mutes convicted of arson and confined indefinitely to Britain’s Broadmoor Hospital in the 1980s. Another chapter makes an argument that people with disabilities warrant the attention of ethnography, and engages in a thoughtful examination of the memoir, Riding the Bus with My Sister by Rachel Simon in which the author wrote about her sister Beth who has mild retardation.

Published by a university press, Couser’s book assumes a certain familiarity with the language of the academy. Yet it remains accessible and engaging, providing an intelligent examination of contemporary life writing within a framework that pushes readers to question basic assumptions about disability embedded in popular culture. Signifying Bodies offers a much needed contribution to discussion of the modern memoir by highlighting the contribution and representation of people with disabilities to the genre.

Reviewed by Elaine Beale

Lust Murder bOX – The New Divine

Let's just get this one thing out of the way right now, shall we? It's safe to say that if you're not of the goth/industrial/EBM/metal persuasion, then The New Divine, from Austin, TX foursome Lust Murder bOX (LMb), will not be your bag. These twelve tunes are for the seasoned spooky aficionado. But if you're adventurous enough, give it a go. It'll be worth it.

The group, featuring band members Nox, Vaughn, Erik, and Travis, are a mainstay of Austin's Sixth Street music scene. With lyrics like “A perfect model of distress/Paranoia with a bit of bliss” and “Your kiss detonates on my lips/A violent spark between us,” “Emotion To Kill” exemplifies not only the LMb oeuvre but also serves as a fine example of the genre. There's even a loving revved-up cover version of “The Baby Screams,” a Cure song from the 1985 album The Head on the Door.

As with the finest of their ilk, Lust Murder bOX displays a wicked sense of humor. “Crash Black” is a snarky indictment of generic music fans. It's a barrage of zingers fired against those shallow listeners who hop from one bandwagon to another in search of the hot new thing. Personal favorites include “This is the chorus/Sing along like you love us” and “With our white belts/And all our pain/We'll make millions/With more of the same.” It's so bitchy-good, it conjures up Mindless Self-Indulgence.

There is an obvious eschatological fixation here, as well. More than one song speaks—in sometimes graphic detail—to what might happen at the end of the world; “Throttle” and “Artifact” are the finest examples. “Genesis,” growling with all the vengeance of a scorned Old Testament God, references the album title. Yet while cryptic pseudo-metaphysical imagery hints at a Gnostic sensibility, we soon that's not really part of the musical equation.

Overall, this is a band whose music squirms under the atmospheric weight of a neurotic eroticism. Reminiscent of groups like Curve and Garbage, but more grinding, these songs are practically swollen with angry sex, power dynamics, and violent ideations; “Coercion” sums it up best. This blatant BDSM ballad (“He uses my body to feel his flesh/The closer he gets the more I trust”) foists itself upon the listener with a twisted ferocity.

It's not easy listening and it's most definitely not for vanilla ears, but then again, nothing from Lust Murder bOX is.

Review by M. Brianna Stallings