Boys Adrift: The Five Factors Driving the Growing Epidemic of Unmotivated Boys and Underachieving Young Men

By Dr. Leonard Sax, MD, PhD

Basic Books

Most of the attention Dr. Leonard Sax gets is for his advocacy of single sex education for boys. In his first book, Why Gender Matters: What Parents and Teachers Need to Know about the Emerging Science of Sex Differences, Sax described the developmental and biological differences between the sexes and how contemporary early education puts boys at a disadvantage. In his follow up, Boys Adrift: The Five Factors Driving the Growing Epidemic of Unmotivated Boys and Underachieving Young Men, Sax elaborates on the modern crisis of maleness.

Sax is interested in boys, and tends to ignore females except as counter-examples, which is fine because one cannot be all things to all people. Sax also, in spite of himself, writes about a certain class of white affluent suburban boys. He tries to allay critics on both of these counts, with sometimes hilarious results. In explaining how inclusive his work is of all cultures, Sax offers this compelling example:

“Emily (or Maria or Shaniqua) goes to college...Justin (or Carlos or Damian) may go to college...”

I am still laughing. Maria, Shaniqua, Carlos, and Damian? Are we seriously playing a "Let’s think of Black- and Latino-sounding names" game? At least Sax is trying to fill the ethnic diversity requirement, even if he has a clunky way of showing it.

Regardless, the focus of Boys Adrift is the plight of affluent white boys living in American suburbs with a few generations of American living (read: consumerism and apathy?) pumping through their veins. “Damian” is actually not his concern. But whomever he is speaking about, Boys Adrift was written from Sax to parents.

From a hyper-academic kindergarten curriculum that favors females, to phlalates that leach into your Dr. Pepper and stunt mental development, Sax covers the basics of what we're talking about when we're talking about the modern crisis of manhood. He identified this crisis of boys as a “failure to launch,” an epidemic of fat, Halo-playing man-children who don't understand why everyone keeps telling them that they should move out of their parents house.

Gender issues aside, Boys Adrift would interest anyone seeking a comprehensive history of Attention Deficit-Hyperactivity Disorder and its treatments and the various, terrifying ways that environmental estrogen has infiltrated our bodies, wreaking physiological (early puberty in females) and societal (sexually mature girls in school alongside their prepubescent male peers) havoc on post-baby-boom generations.

The educational problems that Sax describes are applicable to kids of all kinds (even, dare I imagine, Shaniqua), and it's a little annoying to see them attributed to gender difference. Pegging problems like a struggle to pay attention and a failure to get decent grades to a condition of maleness might feel good to parents of a struggling boy, but to a female who failed similarly, it seems wholly unhelpful if not insulting.

There is a lot here, and Sax's work will comfort many parents, but the work is not without some contradictions. Early on in the narrative we learn that modern American schooling is not conducive to male brain and body development—it does not play to their strengths or their timetable. Later, Sax cites a statistically notable decline in boys’ intellect since the 1990s. The statistics rely on grades given in school. But if school works against boys, then their grades in school are not a fair or accurate measures of their intellect, so what use are they?

Recommended for those curious about education, gender, boys, men, and environmental estrogen.

Review by Ann Raber

Mating Ritual of the North American WASP

By Lauren Lipton

5 Spot

**spoiler alert** At its core, Mating Rituals of the North American WASP is wholly typical. Girl goes to Vegas. Girl gets drunk. Girl wakes up to find she married some stranger. Girl flees back to New York. Boy calls her up to tell her that, yes, they’re legally married. In time, Boy and Girl fall in love and decide to stay married. Mix in a secondary cliché plot: if they stay married, they get money.

Peggy is a New Yorker who runs a shop with her best friend. They’ve been successful for ten years, but their rent is about to be hiked up (that much is realistic). Luke Sedgwick is the last surviving member of the venerable Sedgwick clan, a family that has not left Connecticut since its founder built a big house which is now falling apart. Luke would love to sell the house and leave his oppressive birthright behind him, but his great-aunt Abigail is in her eighties and she refuses to leave. Her health is deteriorating at the same pace as the house, and Luke is badly in need of a way to pay for both.

Peggy and Luke meet in Vegas where inhibitions go to die. Aunt Abigail, clearly having her priorities straight, says she will allow Luke to sell the house if he and Peggy remain married for one year. Needing her share of the house’s selling price, Peggy starts leading a double life. During the week she lives and works in the city and on weekends she rents a car, drives to Connecticut, and pretends to be the happily married wife of a genuine, full-blooded WASP.

I kept reading this book out of a sense of obligation, and because there was nothing terribly egregious about it. But in hindsight, I’m actually rather pissed. You see, there’s Peggy and Luke… and then there’s Peggy and Brock.

Brock is Peggy’s long-time boyfriend/pet frat boy-cum-thrillseeker. They’ve been dating for six years, and she desperately wants him to pop the question. He’s constantly finding reasons not to. They have a big fight right before Peggy goes to Vegas, and later, just as she’s having feelings for Luke, Brock shows up with a ring. Peggy tells herself she can wait out the six months left of secret marriage with no one the wiser.

Brock is a selfish, childish dolt. He has no redeeming qualities besides being handsome. He’s comfortable in a no-strings relationship with a woman who is too anxious to assert herself, and he likes it that way. Peggy’s waffling is annoying, and her self-delusion more than a little infuriating. Worse, she doesn’t have that big, cathartic "I Am An Idiot And I Really Love Luke" moment at the end. In a faceoff between the three of them, she chooses Brock. Sure, it comes right in the very end, but Silent Luke’s not exactly fantastic either.

The book itself is WASP-ish. There’s no sex, no intimacy, and no delicious description. I never really rooted for Luke because I never felt the supposed connection with Peggy. I didn’t have much sympathy for either of them because there wasn’t much to like about them.

I will give kudos for a heroine who wasn’t stereotypical. Peggy has a streak of neurosis that I liked, but it wasn’t made into a defining issue, and it could have been. I would have much preferred a story about a woman who learns to let go of her own anxiety through her exposure to some classically repressed people.

Review by Richenda Gould

The Good Fairies of New York

By Martin Millar

Soft Skull Press

Having recently moved to New York City, one of my first excursions was to the Strand Bookstore. Late one evening in May, I walked into the shop and, feeling slightly overwhelmed but giddy with excitement, I ventured into the maze of tables and shelves surfeit with books.

Within ten minutes, I happened upon a book entitled The Good Fairies of New York. The title caught my attention: fairies? New York? The titular connotations suggested that the book would be a type of urban fantasy. Seeing that Neil Gaiman, a master of sci-fi and fantasy literature, wrote the introduction (an obvious sign of endorsement: “I owned it for more than five years before reading it, then lent my copy to someone I thought should read it, and never got it back. Do not make either of my mistakes.”), I immediately decided to purchase the book and began to read it as soon as I hopped onto the train.

The book’s opening scene encapsulates the fittingness of the generic prescription of the book as “urban fantasy”: two drunken fairies stumble into a fourth floor window and vomit all over the apartment floor of its owner, Dinnie, who is described as “an overweight enemy of humanity.”

The narrative of The Good Fairies consists of a handful of interwoven plots, such that the events of one plot have an effect, direct or less than direct, on another. There are two prominent storylines among the abundance. The first is that of the two Scottish fairies, Morag and Heather, and their quest to find a way home to Scotland, after mistakenly arriving in Manhattan and, as time passes, becoming engrossed in the various lives and events that occur throughout the city—from fairy wars in Central Park and Harlem to helping the ghost of The New York Dolls’ Johnny Thunder recover his lost guitar.

The second pertains to one of Heather and Morag’s adventures in New York and with New Yorkers, in which they determine to assist Dinnie in becoming a respectable violinist, and, more important, a respectable human capable of winning the heart of the book’s female (human) protagonist, Kerry. Kerry suffers from Crohn’s Disease and spends her time trekking through the city in her quest to unearth rare flowers for her flower alphabet project. Dinnie’s aforementioned distaste of humanity and his corresponding misanthropy sit in contradistinction to Kerry’s love of humanity and her abundant exuberance for life—a positive effect of her disease. Clearly, it is not quite love at first sight for the two, but the fairies vow to make the match.

Millar is wonderfully successful in capturing the mad buzz, the electric energy, the vibrancy and vitalistic life of New York City. Like many fantasy novels, the eccentric characters make the novel memorable. But, unlike a majority of texts in this genre, this particular one refuses to follow any particular, trite, story-arc oft associated with the fantasy (as a type of romance) genre. Instead, what The Good Fairies follows is the pulse of New York City and the beatings of the characters’ hearts, filled with punk rock beats and melodies.

Review by Marcie Bianco

Laura Rider's Masterpiece

By Jane Hamilton

Grand Central Publishing

Jane Hamilton's latest novel has a delightful premise. Laura and Charlie Rider own a Midwestern landscape business, for which Laura writes a newsletter. Charlie is a fantastic lover, a man whose equal doses of femininity and masculinity make his understanding of women profound. Laura suffers from “sexual fatigue,” and after twelve years of marriage, she has decided to stop sleeping with Charlie.

Jenna Faroli, the host of Milwaukee Public Radio's Jenna Faroli Show, has recently moved to Laura and Charlie's town of Hartley. Laura has always greatly admired Jenna. In fact, she has told Charlie that Jenna has “the biggest cranium on the planet.” When Laura meets Jenna at the Hartley Garden Club, she is awe struck, and decides Jenna would be a good person for Charlie to befriend. Laura has always dreamed of writing a novel, and she imagines that if she could bring Charlie and Jenna together, she would have real-life inspiration for the characters in her novel, and at the same time, she would be relieved of the sexual guilt she carries for not sleeping with her very sexual husband.

Hamilton's premise is intriguing, her characters quirky, and the setting is charming. But Laura Rider's Masterpiece seems to barely skim the surface of the complications that might arise from such an unusual triangle. Hamilton uses an omniscient narrator who follows all three main characters. This device might have been more successful had Hamilton not written such a brief novel. Coming in at merely 214 pages, the book doesn't quite give us the chance to know any of the characters well as we move quickly back and forth between them.

There are far too many oddities to be contained within these few pages. Charlie believes he saw a UFO when he was a teenager, and he and Jenna first meet when they see bobbing lights in the night sky. Charlie tells her about the Silver People he saw as a teenager. Jenna, who doesn't believe in UFOs, is taken with Charlie's story nonetheless. The Silver People are referenced frequently when Charlie and Jenna begin an email correspondence, yet ultimately, they serve as nothing more than a red herring in Masterpiece's plot. In addition, Laura's book idea disappears almost completely from the novel, along with the Silver People, while Charlie and Jenna pursue their off-beat romance.

Hamilton's prose is at times simply stunning. Early in the novel, when she is trying to think of ways to bring Charlie and Jenna together, Laura remembers that Charlie has Jenna's e-mail address: “Laura, thinking of that, closed her eyes and saw all at once a small opening, as if in the distance. A prick of light. It was the warm, well-lit tunnel of cyberspace, and she could hear it, too, hear the scurrying, the hum of the channel that would connect Jenna and Charlie.” Masterpiece is peppered with such illuminating passages. The various threads of the plot are all, in themselves, rich ideas, but the story and the characters are deserving of fuller treatment. Ultimately, Laura Rider's Masterpiece leaves the reader wanting more.

Review by Natasha Bauman

Been Here a Thousand Years

By Mariolina Venezia

Translated by Marina Harss

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

I began Been Here a Thousand Years, Mariolina Venezia’s novel that sweeps across Italy’s history from 1861 to 1989, with certain ideas and images already floating in the periphery: Berlusconi’s wife explaining the reasons for their divorce, my own memories of whistles and blatant gazes from men during a visit to Florence, high fashion seemingly making women into glorified clothes hangers. To tell the tale of a family of women over a historical timeline from Italy’s unification through fascism seemed a daunting and exhausting task. Venezia tells a multifarious story that, for the most part, glides above what could otherwise be a tiresome history lesson, burdened with sexism.

I have always enjoyed historical fiction. The combination of a creative story set against a factual backdrop intrigues and excites me. Venezia does an amazing job of writing an almost magical story of five generations of women in the Falcone family with the very real story of Italy’s past. Themes of womanly and motherly love that border on mythical contrast with the destruction of World War I and II. National power struggles, dictatorships, and monarchies parallel sisters’ rivalries, marriage proposals, births, and the lifelong search for fulfillment. Venezia does not attempt to justify or condemn the lives the women choose or are forced into. Instead, she creates a beautiful and expansive story in which sexism is simply a given, a historical fact.

At times, it feels like the author is taking on too much. The reader is forced to keep tabs on an endless cast of characters who, although each is well-crafted and interesting, pop in and out of the novel with such frequency that references to the family tree on the third page are more necessary than I would like. Venezia is creative with her use of narration and her manipulation of time and dialogue, but in the muddle of too many voices, it doesn’t feel as if she truly hits her stride until the last fifty pages. Gioia, the last of the Falcone women to take the helm of their history, is by far the most interesting and multifaceted. To some extent, it seems as if each character before her was a writing exercise the author used to develop her final masterpiece.

Writing this review is not easy, and I feel as if I need to write a thirty page essay on this novel to truly find my conclusions about it. I am reminded of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude—a multitude of characters, a rich history, poetic language (translator Marina Harss does a stunning job), complex motifs, and countless interacting story lines that each can be dissected, analyzed, and most importantly, enjoyed. This book is best for readers who can commit to more than light fiction, and best if one can block out preconceived ideas and images of Italy—something I could not do. Mariolina Venezia’s work is rich enough on its own.

Review by Melissa Ablett

Race, Space, and the Law: Unmapping a White Settler Society

Edited by Sherene Razack

Between the Lines

Institutional racism: we all know it exists, yet many deny it does. In this book, Sherene Razack, author of Looking White People in the Eye, edits a set of deeply disturbing accounts of racially-motivated public policies and resultant public consciousness in North America. Beginning with the premise “Race is Space,” Race, Space, and the Law unearths half-forgotten history of racial injustice and challenges the romanticisation of European settlement which is so deeply embedded in Canadian and American folklore. In other words, it seeks to unpack and debunk the notion of the peaceful collaboration between settlers and the aboriginal community, and the idea that the Native peoples have “always accepted, and to some degree, were willing to agree that being the possessors of a land need not necessarily be the only source of legitimacy of its use.”

Razack's book brings together disparate laws and fragments of history—laws on drinking establishments, the ban on "unparliamentarian" language, midwifery, mosque-building, a murder of a sex worker, and inner city slum dwellings—to subvert the "universal" values of justice upheld by the law. There are far too many examples in Race, Space, and the Law that illustrate these modes of subversion and resistance in brilliant, infuriating colour to fit into this review, so I will only be able to share a few.

In "Keeping the Ivory Tower White," Carol Schick sets the predominantly White University of Saskatchewan as a stage for the maintenance of White privilege by exploring the responses of White students to multicultural education. The course, which focused heavily on Aboriginal culture and history, brought out feelings of discomfort. As members of a respectable and intellectual domain of the university, students founded their discomfort and racial insecurity on rationality to side step racist or non-PC misgivings about the content of the course. Schick argues that by making disclaimers and claiming credentials as a feminist sympathizer, students can project themselves as utterly reasonable people—especially as ones who understand the necessity of civility and self-control as they secure White privilege and entitlement.

Renisa Mawani's "In Between and Out of Place" describes the situation of biracial individuals who symbolised the destabilisation of colonial power through the blurring the racial boundaries in mid nineteenth-century British Columbia. Racial categories, often a product of British colonialism, were crucial to maintaining the “racial order of things,” that determined who had certain rights to land and citizenship. Biracial men and women were perceived to be troublemakers and untrustworthy, and hence there were strict laws on alcohol purchase and distribution for this group. The logic behind this was motivated by the fear of interracial mixing because it might result in, quite simplistically, more biracial people.

Perhaps the most recent challenge to Whiteness is the growing presence of Islam in the West, particularly after the September 11th attacks. In Engin Isin and Myer Siemiatycki's essay "Making Space for Mosques," xenophobia and Islamophobia emerged from behind the cloak of neighbourly respectability when the building of new mosques in Toronto was met with resistance. The level of restrictions placed on the Muslim places of worship, particularly on those built on sites of formerly Christian worship, was unprecedented. Suddenly, the “change” a mosque would bring to the look of the neighbourhood became a prime concern for the surrounding residents that resulted in the physical curtailment of the mosque's development, including the reduction of the minaret's height and in some ways, its potent symbolism.

These essays reiterate the fundamental premise that space, particularly a public one, produces identities of privilege and degeneracy. I highly recommend this book to people interested in marginalised history and its place in institutionalised racism today. Perhaps a dose of history will give naysayers of institutional racism some food for thought, too.

Review by Alicia Izharuddin

Pygmy

By Chuck Palahniuk

Doubleday

Chuck Palahniuk has a following online; it’s even called The Cult. The fandom is well deserved. When a book evokes such emotion in the reader that you might just faint from graphic truth (such as in his novel Haunted), you have got to love it! Upon opening his latest novel, Pygmy, I felt as if I were taking a dip into the sexiest sea of twisted delights. I often had to stop reading mid-page to burst into a flurry of laughter brought on by his text. This man makes me feel alive, and I need more! The book left me questioning what is wrong with human nature, and what are we products of, exactly?

The story takes you through the inner tinkering of Pygmy, a pubescent terrorist foreign exchange student implant living in suburban America. The sexual explicitness throughout the story was humorously uncomfortable, yet strangely stimulating. Palahniuk’s satirical prowess is yet again screaming victory in the land of fictitious works.

Pygmy reflects on the various activities of everyday American life as truly absurd actions in a perverse and awkward society. He parades us through big-box stores, the town’s “religion propaganda distribution outlet,” and ponders scholastic shortcomings, all while conniving his way into various illegal actions to work up to his and his fellow terrorists’ “Operation Havoc.”

Cacophonic explosions within Pygmy’s head lead to many devilish deeds. However, a sugary sweet reinvention occurs, suggesting that even programmed human beings can reconfigure themselves. This serves as a surefire reminder that the mind is a powerful weapon that just might also provide peace, possibly.

Pygmy often draws on quotes that were drilled into himself and his cohorts from an early age that seem to fuel them in every situation. Most often these quotes were of fascist, communist, and all around extreme iconic thinkers. These shocking tidbits of actual recollections of figureheads past greatly impact the novel’s outcome. Most of the quotes Palahniuk includes are stunning in their impact, and made me want to fight a little, such as Benito Mussolini's assertion that, “War is to man what maternity is to a woman.”

You have to stop and rearrange your thought process every time you pick up the book. This style is a departure from his previous novels—more of a structured, militant mind process of events recounted by the main character. Many times after putting the story down, I would find myself thinking similarly to the character. Each process or action noted, each bizarre human encounter was now a new experience.

My only disappointment with this offering from Palahniuk is that I wasn’t disturbed as greatly as I have been whilst reading some of his other novels. Don’t get me wrong, more than likely I’ll read Pygmy again. It’s a country of it’s own, a ride into a mindset that is foreign and convoluted. Cheers to a man who seems to be unafraid to push his limits in challenging the public and making people think differently after reading. This is entertainment.

Review by A. Mariel Westermeyer

Lumo: One Young Woman's Struggle to Heal in a Nation Beset By War

Directed by Bent-Jorgen Perlmutt and Nelson Walker III
Goma Film Project

Lumo is a documentary, named after its central character, of an African woman healing from a rape endured by military men that left her with a medical condition called fistula, a tear in the wall between the vagina and bladder caused by violent rape. It left her incontinent and uncertain of her chances to birth children. Like so many women who bear the heaviest and agonizing brutality in war-torn countries, rape is the most barbaric and common war crime committed against African women. While others think of terror in the form of bombs, missiles, and heavy artillery, Lumo recognizes rape as the most treacherous act of war, which claims the lives of so many women and leaves them in unspeakable suffering.

The film follows Lumo as she travels from her village, where she has been rejected by her fiancé, neglected by her family, and ostracized by her community, to Goma, a region in the Democratic Republic of Congo where she will receive treatment from HEAL Africa, an internationally sponsored hospital that provides services for rape survivors. Lumo will stay at the hospital for an unknown period of time until she physically and psychologically recovers from her trauma.

Although the tempo is slow, the documentary absorbs every painful detail of Lumo’s healing process. As if reflecting the pace of healing itself, the arduous and tedious speed of the film unnerves the viewer as the agony of the fistula is unmasked. Leaking urine, one of the symptoms of the fistula, cast Lumo and these other survivors into a world where they are further violated and isolated because of their condition. The cinematography is gripping. The facial portraits of the women are burned into the viewer's memory.

Lumo also moves between disparity and the power of faith. It largely focuses on Christianity as a source of strength and hangs the hope of medical miracles on Jesus and images of God as the savior. The survivors are repeatedly told to pray for their healing and ask God for complete recovery.

Central to Lumo’s message is the unflinching commentary on the lives of the women who will return to their homes after months, or sometimes years, of treatment. They will return to the world of rejection and rebel-occupied villages where they will live in danger of being raped again.

The film interacts with other components of gender domination and oppression–state violence and government officials who use victim-blaming language–to expose all facets of the cycle which perpetuate the cycle of violence against and degradation of women. In every society, in every part of the world, sexual violence is a crime against humanity. It will transform its face based on language, environment, and culture, but Lumo points out that violence against women remains the greatest commonality among all social sins, and no nation has taken steps toward absolution.
After witnessing the journey of one woman, viewers will be compelled to search for Lumo in their own community, city, town, or village. Lumo can and is everywhere. She is anywhere and everywhere violence against women persists.

Review by Lisa Factora-Borchers

Young Woman and the Sea: How Trudy Ederle Conquered the English Channel and Inspired the World

By Glenn Stout

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

From 1922 through 1925, Gertrude “Trudy” Ederle was widely considered to be the best female swimmer in the world, and had no trouble competing, and winning, against men either. In 1926, at the age of nineteen, she became the first woman to swim the English Channel, shattering the previous record by two full hours.

Young Woman and the Sea is the story of Trudy Ederle told by sportswriter Glenn Stout, but it is more than a biography. Using interspersed chapters, Stout gives readers lessons on the history of swimming, the English Channel, and those who came before Ederle in women’s swimming and in the swimming of the Channel. The main focus of the book is Ederle, but it is also the story of those who helped make it possible for her to succeed so greatly.

In the early 1900s, women weren’t taught, or often allowed, to swim. It wasn’t seen as proper and few thought that women were physically capable of even doing it. The Women’s Swimming Association, founded in 1917, had a mission to change that view. Part of that mission was recruiting young girls to train, and, in 1918, Ederle became one of them. Ederle in particular challenged the psychological and scientific reasoning that women were not, nor could ever be, as strong as men.

Ederle’s first attempt at the English Channel was in 1925, but a sexist coach—who is rumored to have poisoned her—sabotaged her efforts both mentally and physically. One year later, under the guidance of a new coach, Ederle swam the Channel better than anyone before her, making the phrase “weaker sex” sound old fashioned.

After Ederle, more women crossed the Channel, one within days of her successful attempt, and more women’s sports, which had seemed so controversial before, were added to the Olympics. More women also began to turn professional, reaping the same financial benefits as professional male athletes, thanks to a change in attitudes toward female athletes.

Ederle was a celebrity at a time when few knew what that term meant. However, soon after her historical swim, she slipped into obscurity almost as easily as her fame began. One of the reasons Stout gives for her being so quickly forgotten was that the changes she inspired became so pervasive so quickly.

The story of Trudy Ederle is important and should be told often. It would be wonderful as a young adult or children’s book because of its inspirational messages of equality and perseverance. Ederle’s reasoning behind swimming the Channel may have had more to do with personal goals than gender equality, but she sure helped things along. Young Woman and the Sea is a charming read and an important reminder of how thankful women today should be for women like Ederle who have come before them.

Review by Jill Hindenach

Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History Necklace

"Well-behaved women seldom make history,” Harvard professor Laurel Thatcher Ulrich wrote in an article about Puritan funeral services. Feminists embraced the sentiment and now the phrase (as well as the misquote “well-behaved women rarely make history”) can be found on a vast array of consumer goods, from coffee mugs to t-shirts, bumper stickers to compact mirrors.

Designer Jerry Hall of the TwilightShades Etsy shop has created a necklace out of an oblong metal disc about the size of a nickel into which the inspirational expression has been imprinted.

The metal disc is fastened to what is described on the TwilightShades shop as a “16 inch antiqued brass chain.” The designer does not mention from what material the disc is composed, but it’s certainly not antiqued brass. The chain and the disc look markedly different. The chain is brownish in color, while the disc is silver. I am a fan of mismatched, clashing looks, so I’m not bothered by the necklace having components of different materials, but more particular folks should take heed.

I was bothered when the chain turned my neck green. I was suspicious when I saw the chain in person. While it is sturdy and well-made, it looks rather cheap, like something out of a gumball machine. Sure enough, after wearing it in the heat of early summer, my neck looked dirty and more than slightly green. I wore the necklace on several other occasions, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining my new skin tone, and even had my most honest friend confirm the unnatural color of my flesh.

I don’t know if the chain will turn everyone’s skin green, or if I am an unusual case. I typically wear silver ball chains with no adverse effects. Maybe some material in the chain reacts with my body chemistry, but whatever the cause, I won’t often wear jewelry that makes me look as if I forgot to wash up before leaving the house.

The necklace does hang a bit lower than I tend to like, but doesn’t dangle so far down that I am afraid it will get caught on something and strangle me every time I lean over. Hall offers to make adjustments to this piece for people who are more comfortable with a shorter chain.

Overall, I am impressed with the construction of this necklace. I live an active life of commuting by bike, moving books at my library job, and taking photographs outside. I’ve yet to be in a situation where I feared the necklace was in danger of being ripped from my neck or the chain might slip from the connector rings.

I’m thinking of ways to enjoy this necklace without suffering from green neck syndrome. Perhaps it would look good hanging from my rearview mirror.

Review by Chantel C. Guidry

Life Lived in Reverse

By Lucille M. Griswold

Hamilton Books

Who says a woman can’t do anything she puts her mind to? Lucille M. Griswold’s memoir, Life Lived in Reverse, is written proof that dreams are attainable. This small volume is structured so that each chapter resembles a standalone essay. I found myself thinking of them as life lessons. Griswold’s work is a rich history in positive attitude and determination.

When the author entered her seventies, she decided to complete her formal education which she had abandoned at nineteen, when her single mother could no longer afford the tuition. Ms. Griswold became a student at Vermont College and not in the traditional sense: she took courses online. She majored in creative writing and minored in women's studies, both her passions. While photographing working women in all types of professions, she reflected on her life. This led to finishing her studies at Vermont by writing a memoir.

Much of the early narrative allows me a glimpse of a struggling young married couple. With Pearl Harbor only a mere ten years before, Lucille and her husband set out to form a family. The author reminds us that the country as a whole approached life in a much different way than we do now. Planning seemed a luxury. People were more accustomed to life being thrust at them. There was no healthcare insurance, reliable birth control, or fair treatment for women in the workplace. Yet Lucille never surrenders to the temptation to give up, even after her husband is drafted, just out of dental school, and sent to Vietnam to provide dental work for American soldiers and the Vietnamese.

I love the details of Griswold's childhood life as an Italian American in a small town of New Jersey during the forties. And as an adult, the example she sets as a woman encourages and inspires me to never give up on my dreams.

Life Lived in Reverse is the perfect title for a memoir of this woman’s life. Griswold reminds me that my story continues to be written, to thrive, and evolve, and that age should never be a legitimate factor when stepping out of one’s box. It is up to me as a woman to embrace this evolution, seek out the details, and make the most of all the doors that open.

Griswold puts a capital ‘F’ in Feminism, even if that was not her intention. This book gives a lesson in empowerment.

Review by Ann Hite

Emily's Ghost: A Novel of the Brontë Sisters

By Denise Giardiana

WW Norton

Denise Giardiana creates a gentle and yet realistically harsh world with her newest novel, Emily's Ghost. In the same tradition as Jane Austen, George Elliot, and the Brontë sisters, Giardiana weaves a revealing story of Emily Brontë, author of Wuthering Heights. Emily is portrayed as both intelligent and independent. She refuses to become the woman her peers expect. Her distrust of marriage is only one of the opinions that sets her apart.

Like all well written novels, the description woven into the plot helps bring these characters into a unique light. The central conflict in this story comes in the form of a clergyman named William Weightman, who champions poor mill workers. This doesn't make him entirely popular with a lot of people. But the Brontë sisters love him. Emily finds a voice in William's passion. They enter into a turbulent unconsummated love affair, similar to Emily's novel. Even though tragedy strikes, the love story continues beyond the grave.

The challenge in writing a novel about a historical figure is presenting the facts in story form with a freshness that allows the reader to forget what they already know, or at the least push it to the side. Ms. Giardiana accomplishes this with ease. I found her characters believable and endearing. In her capable hands, Emily and her sisters come to life. I was swept away by the story and only posed one question: why did the book have to come to an end?

Denis Giardiana is the author of several additional novels, one of which won the Boston Book Review Prize. She is an ordained deacon of the Episcopal Church and resides in West Virginia.

I found this novel haunting and beautifully written. I learned more about the Brontë sisters than I could have imagined when beginning the book. I strongly recommend this book as a purchase for your summer reading list.

Review by Ann Hite

My Sister, My Love: The Intimate Story of Skyler Rampike

By Joyce Carol Oates

HarperCollins

My Sister, My Love is Joyce Carol Oates’ thirty-fifth novel in forty-five years. Ambitious and sweeping, the nearly 600-page tome explores a plethora of themes: the tabloid press’ obsession with celebrity; marital discord and fidelity; the pressure placed on children by achievement-worshipping parents; forgiving transgressions; the medicalization of normal human development; and the hypocrisy underlying Christian-inspired capitalism, among them.

The story is narrated by Skylar Rampike, a depressed 19-year-old whose six-year-old sister, Bliss, was brutally murdered ten years earlier. Bliss, a child-prodigy figure skater, was found in the family’s Fair Lawn, New Jersey home, hanging in the basement boiler room during the Christmas season of 1994. If it sounds familiar, it should. Like a Law and Order episode spun from a lurid news story, My Sister, My Love is a send up of JonBenet Ramsey and her family.

And what a family it is. Betsey is a hover mother of the highest order, hell-bent on making little Bliss a star. It starts serendipitously, when Bliss exhibits an uncanny dexterity that sends her mom into a what-if frenzy. First comes the name change; Bliss’ original name was Edna Louise, after her paternal grandmother, but she was re-christened "Bliss" after Betsey envisioned god instructing her to make the switch. This is followed by hormone injections into Bliss’ child-sized body, regular beauty makeovers to enhance the child’s appearance, and forced practice sessions, even when Bliss is in obvious pain from one or another injury.

While Betsey is over-involved and continually scheming for a place in the spotlight, the family patriarch is the opposite. Named Bix, he is an anti-Semitic womanizer, a politically conservative glad-hander who reveres money and status and is more than happy to keep his family at arm’s length. For his part, Skylar is everything his parents despise, a bookish, non-athletic kid with few friends.

It’s a recipe for trouble and the novel delivers it, in spades. Unfortunately, while there are moments in which the book is affecting, most of the time it falls flat. Among the problems is tone. At times, Skylar is extremely sympathetic—clearly grieving for his sister, tormented by survivor guilt, and filled with fury toward parents who push him out of sight because they are embarrassed by his anti-social mien. At other times, however, the narrator’s snarky voice is distracting. Oates may be trying to replicate the moods of a sullen teen, but like time in the company of a snotty boy-child, one wants to escape him rather than stay in his orbit. What’s more, the many tangents—including hundreds of footnotes meant to elucidate Skylar’s thought processes and intellectual pursuits for the reader—are annoying digressions that make the book longer and more detailed than it needs to be.

Oates is clearly making fun of upper class pretensions and the faux Christian piety and family values endemic to suburban Republicans. It’s a rich playing field, but sadly, My Sister, My Love reads like a bloated lecture delivered by a pompous windbag. It’s too bad because real life dramas can be wonderful jumping off points for imagined scenarios. What we get instead is as nauseating as the incessant coverage of celebrity shenanigans we’re continually fed, and we close My Sister, My Love feeling no more insight than we had when we picked up the novel for the very first time. It’s a huge disappointment from so gifted a scribe.

Review by Eleanor J. Bader

Small Decorative Mosaic Tile Bowl

My paternal grandmother had a thing for butterscotch and caramels, and as the ubiquitous good hostess, she kept the sugary treats in a small bowl in her living room to offer house guests upon their arrival. I always wondered what the deal was with these two particular candies, which seems be favorites among a geriatric crowd. Perhaps this is simply my own ingrained stereotype gained as a result of my grandmother's ever-present hospitality that I now choose to imprint on the world. Truth can be difficult to discern from the limitations of one's experience.

Whether fact or fiction, the Small Decorative Mosaic Tile Bowl from AttysVintage reminds me of my grandmother's candy dishes. It is small (about 6" in diameter and 2" tall) and very lightweight, which means you can use it like my granny did or tack it up on the wall for a bit of artistic flare. Given its propensity for memory generation, I'd probably opt for the former.

The outer part of the bowl is a semi-shiny gold with tiny, squiggly designs. The inner part is lined with lovely multicolored tiles—speckled brown, baby powder pink, royal blue, and robin's egg blue—of differing shapes and sizes in a linear pattern that encircles the circumference of the bowl. The mosaic design is held in place by some sort of soft grey plaster, which no doubt contributes to its weightlessness.

Since I'm not a big fan of candy, I think this bowl will find its home on the small table on the inside of my door. Perhaps it will help me to collect pocket change or not misplace my keys after a long day's work. And when I return home I can think of my grandmother, a 1950s housewife with a penchant for sweetness whose quiet resistance paved the way for my own brand of clamorous radical feminism.

Review by Mandy Van Deven

Twisted Triangle: A Famous Crime Writer, a Lesbian Love Affair, and the FBI Husband’s Violent Revenge

By Caitlin Rother, with John Hess
Jossey Bass

“Stranger than fiction” is the most accurate way to describe the premise for this book about married FBI agents. The wife has a lesbian affair with a crime novel author, and the husband kidnaps and later tries to kill his wife. And yet, it’s a true story! Having never heard of this case before, I could not put the book down and found myself eager to get to the end to see how it all turned out.

The book tells the complex story of an abusive relationship between Gene and Margo Bennett, as well as their personal, professional, and legal troubles. Evidence of Gene’s emotional abuse towards his wife is presented early in the book, and starts to draw the outline of the picture that’s yet to come. He carries out a scam to get money from the F.B.I., and is prosecuted when Margo decides to divorce him and reports the incident. A power struggle starts as he seeks revenge for her betrayal and her affair with Patricia Cornwell, a famous author. He kidnaps her to make her lie in court and clear his name, but is still convicted. When he gets out of jail, he carries out an elaborate and bizarre plan to frame her for murder and attempts to kill her. Ultimately, Gene is found guilty on several charges, including attempted murder, and sentenced to twenty-three years and ten years of probation. The book wraps up by describing the aftermath of the trial and its effect on Margo and her two daughters.

One of the problems with the book is that it’s told primarily through the perspective of Margo, but this is because the author attempted to contact Gene, but he did not agree to participate. The writing itself is awkward at times, which doesn’t help the fact that the story unfolds itself is hard to keep up with. There are so many names and places to keep track of, yet they are sometimes mentioned without a reminder about how we should know who or what the author is referring to.

These problems, however, are minor when compared to the important themes raised in the book. Because Margo was raised to be ashamed of homosexuality and bisexuality, she viewed her relationships with women as innocent experimentation. She even viewed her affair with Patricia Cornwell as separate from any pattern that would make her label herself as a lesbian. The homophobia and bias against homosexuality in the Virginia justice system is also mentioned several times throughout the book.

Gene’s abuse towards Margo, along with her ignorance about what was happening in her marriage, is the perfect example of how abuse works. It seems that no matter how severe the abuse and torment, the blame still falls on the victim. In fact, this situation shows that the more severe the abuse, the more blame a victim might receive. Why didn’t she know better? She was an FBI agent after all... How could she not see the signs in her own relationship? Why did she let it go that far? All of these are questions echoed throughout the book by her peers, and all demonstrate why these stories need to be told. It should go without saying that there is great motivation to disconnect one’s own relationship from the scenarios and “what ifs” that a person hears about, and yet these questions often come up.

At its core, this book is about abuse and sexual repression—two themes that could certainly use more attention and discussion, especially when they reflect a true story and not a work of fiction.

Review by Frau Sally Benz

Sex Expression and American Women Writers, 1860-1940

By Dale M. Bauer

University of North Carolina Press

The intriguing title of this book, Sex Expression and American Women Writers, may lead many to wonder what exactly the author means by “sex expression”? Luckily, Dale Bauer makes this clear in the introductory chapter to her study, and I will enlighten those of you who might not be able to immediately get the book.

Sex expression is a clever way of defining the act of writing (or not) about questions relating to sexuality, a term not coined by Bauer. This phrase is especially important because of the topic of Bauer’s study, and even more significant because of what this book brings to light. There are only few ways of finding information about women and sexuality, especially in the interlude specified: 1860-1940. The period Bauer describes is one during which women were gaining a greater freedom of expression in their writing, leading up to the excesses of the roaring twenties and full “sexual democratization.” In fact, women writers have an especially important role to play in describing society during that epoch, and have a gaze that is distinct from that which their male counterparts might express. One of the principal tasks of feminist analysis is an uncovering of these women’s views, and Bauer’s study is indeed an important piece in the construction of herstory, however archaic that term may now seem.

For those of us versed in woman’s writing, it might be surprising that as early as mid-nineteenth century, women writers were writing about sex. One of the details Bauer explains from the outset is the fact that sex expression does not necessarily mean description of the sexual act; it can be simply the way a woman carries herself, conscious of her innate femininity, or the way she chooses to dress. Bauer shows a plethora of these possibilities throughout her analysis. She focuses in on various categories for the writers and novels she explores that seem most significant for revealing sex expression in the period she focuses on: “ugliness, middle age, sex power, inarticulate sexuality, and therapeutic intimacy.” Bauer’s investigation of the changing association of sexuality with ugliness (and later on to beauty) is thought-provoking and her look at sex expression in middle age is timely.

Although sometimes dense, this well written study, is quite comprehensive. Even authors that Bauer does not choose to focus on in her six chapters are mentioned, especially if they are relevant to her argumentation. Bauer is careful to include writers of varying ethnicities (e.g., Jewish and African American) and sexualities, and thus consciously diversifies her analysis. Highlights of the text include her chapters on authors Fannie Hurst (for its encompassing reach) and Edith Wharton, an author Bauer has previously written about. This book provides an important synopsis of both seminal and more obscure authors, particularly for those unfamiliar with the women’s literary canon of the time period (as I was).

Review by Sophie M. Lavoie

Sia - TV is My Parent

Monkey Puzzle Records

Sia's latest release is a concert DVD called TV is My Parent, which includes a set from her concert at the Hiro Ballroom in New York, four music videos, and traditional "behind the scenes with the band" footage. While I'm a big fan of Sia's quirky avant-garde pop, a concert DVD isn't usually something I would pick up. If I already have the music on CD, why do I need lower quality versions punctuated with inaudible on-stage banter? However, I have to admit that once I started watching the DVD, I was really really enjoying myself.

What makes a project like this work is Sia's relationship with the audience. This isn't a spectacle like Gwen Stafani and her Harajuku Girls, or Britney Spears lip-syncing her way through a series of electronically-produced songs. Sia's playfulness and energy are infectious, and her vocals have an intensity that demands immersion.

The show opens with Sia and her bandmates dressed as day-glow children's drawing. Most of the concert set is from her latest album, Some People Have Real Problems. The songs chosen for the DVD showcase Sia's songwriting at its best, from the haunting "Breathe Me" (a song some of you might remember from HBO's Six Feet Under series finale) to the honest and flippant "The Girl You Lost to Cocaine" that features satisfying lines like: "'cause I'll never get laid while I'm running your life." Her radio-friendly "Little Black Sandals" opens the concert and also features an adorable young girl singing backup.

The concert is definitely the highlight of TV is My Parent. The "behind the scenes" filming is fun—particularly when she's scheduled to do a signing at Starbucks, but can't find the right one because there are four on the same street. The problem is it doesn't tell the audience much about her creative process or thoughts about her music. Following the band around makes the viewer feel distinctly like being the only sober person at a party; seeing a drummer rub his nipples is only really amusing once.

The music videos are great, and (as any Sia fan would expect) they are weird. The line between creativity and hipster obscurity is finely tread here but she comes off more Bjork than Feist. "Soon We'll be Found" is the real gem, with Sia's signature child-like art being used as a metaphor for the innocence of new love.

While I've never considered Sia in the vein of feminist music, there is something distinctly refreshing about her approach to sexuality in her lyrics and her own aesthetic. While aloof and friendly on stage and when interacting with fans, Sia is clearly an artist first. Her songs are largely about connecting to other people and could be applied to the complexities of any relationship.

My feeling is that TV is My Parent is for Sia fans. If you're new to her music, a better introduction would be to buy her solo albums and prepare for the unexpected urge to do interpretive dance.

Review by Jennifer Burgess

Everything Changes: The Insider's Guide to Cancer in Your 20's and 30's

By Kairol Rosenthal
John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

When I read the title of this book, it piqued my interest instantly. Let's face it: there is a lot out there about people over forty and their struggle with cancer, and even quite a bit about children with cancer. In fact, when I think of cancer, I usually picture someone the age of my parents and grandparents, or the boys and girls in ads for St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. I don't picture myself or my fiancé, sisters, or friends. So I cracked this book open not really knowing what to expect. I quickly learned that 70,000 people in their twenties and thirties are diagnosed with cancer each year in the United States. Because they are not the face of cancer, they deal with a unique set of problems and often feel quite alone. Kairol Rosenthal, herself a cancer patient, wants to change that.

Rosenthal set out to write a book filled with the authentic experiences of real people. She wanted to tell their stories in their words and show that just as not every case of cancer is the same, not every cancer patient is the same. These young people are as diverse as any of us. Some reject the label "survivor," while others embrace it. Some find comfort in their loved ones like never before, while others feel it is too much to put on a happy face so they handle it alone. The book would have been poignant enough if she had merely put these stories on paper, but she didn't leave it at that. She also wanted to help cancer patients, along with their friends and families by providing resources, often free or inexpensive, that cover almost everything you can think of: health insurance, being a student, getting divorced, clinical trials, and much more.

Each chapter tells the story of one cancer patient, interwoven with some of Rosenthal's own experiences, and pull quotes from other patients about how they dealt with the issues brought up in that chapter. She ends each chapter by listing resources connected directly to the challenges the patient in that chapter deals with. For example, the chapter about Wafa'a, a single twenty-something who feels her body is worthless, ends with a section about dating, sex, body image, and relationships. She shares when and how to reveal you have cancer while dating, booklets that teach you how to achieve orgasm and avoid pain, and websites that help you shop for make-up, wigs, and comfortable clothing.

The format of the book helps drive home not only the feelings and beliefs of the people Rosenthal interviewed, but also practical things that can be done to deal with these struggles. I liked that she left their experiences in their own words, because it made me feel like I was there in the room with them. I felt the narration she sprinkled in was eloquent and helped tie themes together. These themes were sometimes specific to cancer, but most often about life, healing, race, gender, age, relationships, and other things that come up in everyone's lives but pose a different challenge for young people living with cancer. I appreciated most that by the end of the book, I felt very empowered, and had learned a lot about these people's lives and what I might do if one of them was my friend.

The ultimate take-away: if you are a young person diagnosed with cancer, you are not at all alone; if you know somebody affected by cancer, treat them with the care, concern, respect and appreciation you always have, no more and no less. And, of course, read this book and share it with the people you love.

Review by Frau Sally Benz

The Girls

By Tucker Shaw

Amulet

The Girls is a modern chick lit version of The Women by Clare Boothe Luce. This book, like that classic play, is made especially interesting because boys are talked about, but not featured as active characters! In this modern version, girl-next-door Peggy enrolls at an upper-crust Aspen prep school and finds herself way out of her league. She is intimidated by the seeming perfection of her roommate Mary, who is beautiful, popular, and the girlfriend of a wealthy hotellier’s son. She is intimidated by Sylvia, the constantly color-coordinated, gossip-saavy diva of the school. And she is intimidated by the town of Aspen, which is filled with overpriced lattes and celebrity sightings.

Peggy finds herself in a moral dilemma when she overhears Amber, the local coffee shop’s barista, claiming that Mary’s boyfriend Stephen is cheating on her with a local salesgirl. Should Peggy tell Mary and hurt her feelings and possibly her relationship over what could be gossip? Or should she stay silent and possibly betray her friend? The choice is made no easier by the fact that Sylvia has also overheard, and could potentially relay the news to Mary before Peggy does, possibly usurping the roommate’s friendship.

As Peggy wrestles with the decision, she goes to the shop to see the salesgirl in question and overhears some incriminating evidence. When Mary must confront the crisis, unfortunately Sylvia has joined Peggy as her support system. However, we see a more vulnerable Sylvia as she begins to share in the girls’ weekly grilled cheese confidences. And soon the girls team up to confront cheating boyfriends.

As The Girls ends, various characters pop up, seemingly out of nowhere, and join the drama, hurling accusations at one another’s boyfriends. The plot dissolves into a series of catfights, which are fun but shallow. Luckily, the book is made interesting by its setting, Colorado (refreshing to see snobbery outside of NY/LA!) and by the prominent role which food plays in the narrative. It is supremely refreshing to see a young female narrator (Peggy) who sees food as neither an enemy nor a savior, but rather a creative medium. Throughout the book, Peggy deals with stress by zoning out and creating elaborate and fanciful recipes in her mind. A responsible young woman who provides a centered view of the dramatized girly events around her, the narrator is skillful and inventive at her job as a chef’s assistant in a hip Aspen restaurant. She clearly has talent, passion, and creativity. As a plus, Tucker Shaw, himself a food journalist, includes some of the yummy recipes at the back of the book!

Review by Elizabeth F.A. Meaney

Erased: Missing Women, Murdered Wives

By Marilee Strong

Jossey-Bass

When a crime is committed, the public wants to know why. In Erased, journalist Marilee Strong answers that question for a specific set of criminals she calls “eraser killers.” She outlines an in-depth profile of these killers hoping that the more the public knows about them, the more they will be caught and justice will be brought to their victims.

Strong started the journey to Erased while reporting on the disappearance of a pregnant woman in California named Laci Peterson. She covered Laci’s story through her disappearance to the conviction of her husband, Scott, for her murder and the murder of their unborn child. While researching other murders for the Peterson case, Strong noticed a psychological pattern between Scott and another killer who committed a strikingly similar crime more than fifty years earlier. This book is the result of the next five years of Strong’s research.

Erased covers more than fifty murders throughout the past century that fit the pattern of eraser killings, a form of intimate partner homicide that is committed almost exclusively by men, done in a carefully planned manner, which is often through bloodless means, in order to leave behind as little evidence as possible. The killers frame the murder to make it look like something happened that had nothing to do with them, and often try to make the body physically disappear as well. Eraser killers eliminate women, and sometimes children, in their lives simply because they no longer serve any purpose to them. The killers have no emotional attachment to their victims, considering them nothing more than a commodity. Most disturbingly, these men are often described as loving husbands right up until they day they kill. The women in their lives have no idea they are in danger until it is too late.

Strong credits the “unique psychology of men” with these murders and, in particular, a set of dangerous traits that psychologists have named the “Dark Triad” of personality: psychopathy, narcissism, and Machiavellianism. These traits lead eraser killers to believe they can literally get away with murder without anyone ever knowing. Ironically, it is also these traits that lead many to their downfall. Eraser killers can be so over confident that they make mistakes and overlook important details.

While it is interesting to know just where some of these killers went wrong, Strong occasionally takes those details too far. Her recounting of Laci Peterson’s murder becomes eerie when Strong describes exactly what Scott might have done to get away with it. Surprisingly, she goes into these specifics after telling the reader that many of these killers learn from each other as models, noting what worked for other killers and what pitfalls to avoid. With this in mind, many of the details Strong uses in Erased become uncomfortable to read. It makes one wonder how helpful the book is in bringing victims justice, and how helpful it could potentially be to a future eraser killer.

While Erased is disturbing on many levels, it is also thought provoking. For the majority of the book, Strong’s heart seems to be in the right place. In the conclusion, she offers recommendations on what the criminal justice system can do to better catch eraser killers. She focuses on closing loopholes that make eraser killers think they can get away with murder and that allow some of them to do just that. At the very least, Erased is a wake-up call that there is another, more disturbing, side to domestic homicide that deserves serious attention. Strong makes a very clear case that her profile and recommendations are worth considering.

Review by Jill Hindenach

Condo Fucks – Fuckbook

Matador Records

Nineties alt-rock favorites Yo La Tengo have released a new album of cover songs under the moniker of Condo Fucks. Presumably taking its title from their 1990 album Fakebook, this eleven-song effort has been christened Fuckbook. A refreshing slice of lo-fi garage/grunge, these covers are the raw and dirty antithesis to today's pro-tooled mania.

Their cover of the Small Faces' “What'cha Gonna Do About It” kicks off the album and firmly establishes the stripped-down approach with its feedback and fuzzy guitars. “Accident” continues the noisy, in-your-face vibe and makes me feel like I should be at a party drinking beer. “This Is Where I Belong” is a little more mellow, but just as loud.

This is followed by two covers of Beach Boys classics: “Shut Down” and “Shut Down Part 2”. The rough punk approach works pretty well for re-interpreting surf music, and I especially enjoyed their spin on the instrumental “Part 2”, which is easily my favorite cut on the record. I also quite liked “The Kid With The Replaceable Head”, which I thought really nailed the perfect combo of in-your-face distortion.

Sixties and early seventies music dominates the setlist here, continuing with covers of the Troggs (“With a Girl Like You”) and Slade (“Gudbuy T'Jane”). The inspiration of these classics is evident in the way the Condo Fucks embrace such a raw method of recording – it sounds like the band were actually in the same room playing at the same time when they made this album! Imagine that! I just love hearing this kind of primal rock that hasn't been polished or prettied up. I know not everyone will share my enthusiasm; Fuckbook will probably be unlistenable to a lot of people. But I think that's the whole point.

Review by Beeb Ashcroft

The Price of Pleasure: Pornography, Sexuality, and Relationships

Directed by Chyng Sun and Miguel Picker
Open Lens Media

The advancement of gender equality and feminisms are arguably difficult to measure. One of the greatest successes, however, is the growing level of complexity with which we view previously black and white issues. In other words, we as a society are more capable to recognize the grey in controversial issues. As the face of feminism becomes more of a collage than one iconic portrait, as the proverbial intersection of race, class, gender, ability, sexuality, religion, and other forms of identity receives more thoughtful traffic, documentary films such as The Price of Pleasure emerge. This film boasts a unique approach to exploring the contentious world of pornography.

Abandoning the tired and often cyclical rhetoric on whether pornography is “right or wrong,” The Price of Pleasure investigates the collision of pornography, sexuality, and relationships. Instead of wagging a finger at the billion dollar industry from an academic pulpit, this film features a diverse group of college students, professionals, media makers, distributors, consumers, and adult performers to expose a panoramic and dizzying look at how pornography affects our lives and relationships. Instead of making statements that legitimize or demonize the porn industry, the film asks questions, and then allows people talk for themselves.

Equally compelling as it is disturbing, The Price of Pleasure spans the pornography business with several different lenses: race/gender roles and power, economic and capitalistic trends, political and corporate involvement, and sexualized violence against women and children. The weight of these issues is undoubtedly distressing. The film takes a bold approach to examining the stunning financial profits of the industry and the connection to our human needs and insecurities. The Price of Pleasure presents an unapologetic inquiry into the blurring line between the pornographic world and real world. That line is the primary battleground of the film.

The Price of Pleasure is loaded with explicit and violent imagery, vulgar language, and disturbing commentary, which may upset an unsuspecting viewer or trigger a survivor of sexual assault. Educators should exercise acute judgment when using this film for discussion and note that the DVD contains an option to view an edited or unedited version. Even with the most seasoned of facilitators, audience members should be appropriately prepped and forewarned.

The Price of Pleasure holds immense possibility for transformative dialogue. The questions raised are almost too difficult to hear, but once they are voiced they are too impossible to ignore.

Review by Lisa Factora-Borchers

A Reliable Wife

By Robert Goolrick

Algonquin Books

A Reliable Wife begins with anticipation. First, there’s the anticipation of Ralph Truitt, the businessman who owns all the large assets of the town, Truitt, which is named for his family. Ralph Truitt waits on the train platform for a train which is late arriving. As he waits, he is watched by the people of the town, blue-collar workers whose labor makes him wealthy, and who live cold and difficult lives as poor people in the isolated town that revolves around Ralph’s large house.

The train that is waited and watched for carries Ralph Truitt’s new wife—a plain and simple woman who sent a picture and a letter in response to Ralph Truitt’s plain and simple ad asking for a “reliable wife.” From the moment the woman steps off the train, the arrangement is far more complex than expected. Neither the picture nor the letter revealed who the woman truly is, or her reason for marrying Ralph Truitt.

The suspense of Ralph and the town waiting to see the wife who has answered the ad escalates into excitement when the carriage overturns on the way home from the station. Despite the isolation of the novel’s setting, deep in the woods of snowy Wisconsin, A Reliable Wife is a simmering page-turner. Goolrick’s sense of pacing is strong, with well-spaced revelations that deepen the characters and create even more questions about the story’s outcome. Catherine travels to St. Louis to retrieve Truitt’s son—the only living member of his family; he has lost his wife and daughter long ago. However, during this trip to St. Louis, in which the glittering city life contrasts with Truitt’s lonely and isolated Wisconsin home, we learn not only the glamorous and shockingly immoral lifestyle that Catherine Land managed to conceal, but also her connection to Truitt and her ultimate plan for their marriage.

A Reliable Wife is suspenseful and passionate, a great read, especially for fans of Victorian novels. Truitt has secrets about his dead wife and daughter and his faraway son, whose legitimacy is in question. Catherine uses her “honest and simple woman” front to divert attention from the deadly motives she has for Ralph Truitt and his money. However, despite the menacing pasts and motives of each of the character, they manage to develop not only a sensual but an emotional connection, somehow attracted rather than repulsed by one another’s sins. The twist at the end changes the plan that motivated Catherine to marry in the first place, reflects the power of the bond that forms between Catherine Land and Ralph Truitt.

Review by Elizabeth F.A. Meaney

Shooting Women

Directed by Alexis Krasilovsky
Women Make Movies

Award-winning Director of Photography Joan Hutton says that when she was starting out in the film industry she received absolutely no help from anyone. Even after she’d built up a substantial résumé of work experience and won prestigious awards she continued to experience discrimination. A directing position that she’d interviewed for was once given to a lesser-experienced young male who’d only been out of film school for three years. But her theory on why she’d been passed over is not tinged with one ounce of bitterness: “You know, sometimes guys are happier working with guys.”

In-your-face hostility and physical harassment are other pitfalls that an earlier generation of female directors had to endure while carving out a path for future generations of women. American cinematographer Stanley Cortez once blocked the entrance of the prestigious American Society of Cinematographers building when a female cinematographer tried to enter. Angrily, he warned: “You don’t belong here!”

Kirsten Glover, who started out as a camera assistant on the Arnold Schwarzenegger documentary Pumping Iron recalls all of the “not funny” sexual harassment she tolerated on the set. She says that sexual harassment was not a major issue at that time even though the continual harassment greatly upset her and interfered with her work.

For women of color in the film industry there was always the dual gender/racial bias to deal with. Yet Black women filmmaking veterans such as Jessie Maple Patton never allowed gender or racial bias to stop them. They simply worked harder. Patton said that both the television stations and the union offered up plenty of excuses to avoid hiring her and when she was hired she knew: “They were gonna test me.”

For many of the women featured in the documentary Shooting Women, opportunities for career advancement was offered by enlightened male producers or pioneering organizations, such as Behind the Lens. The film business is a personal one, and securing important contacts through networking and organizational affiliation can open doors that had previously been closed. It’s interesting to note that many of the women film directors featured in this documentary are married to very emotionally supportive men. It leaves one wondering what may have happened to the women who had not received spousal support while pursuing film careers.

If I were raising a daughter, I’d want her to be as fearless and passionate about her career choice as are the women in this documentary.

Review by Rachelle Nones

©ontent: Selected Essays on Technology, Creativity, Copyright, and the Future of the Future

By Cory Doctorow

Tachyon

He’s been dubbed the “William Gibson of his generation,” but Cory Doctorow is more than a cyberpunk novelist or futurist. He’s an activist, a Creative Commons advocate, tech blogger, and journalist. I don’t come to Doctorow’s non-fiction work by way of his sci-fi novels. In fact, I only know the Doc as a gizmo and copyright guru famous for sites like Boing Boing and essays in Wired and Salon.

A book like ©ontent is an excellent case study in the impermanence of information. In a world where technology can evolve in a day, Doctorow’s work is both informative and outdated. The book begins with multiple essays about the failures of DRM—digital rights management, which is that obnoxious anti-piracy copyright code that makes it impossible to share downloaded files—but anyone who follows headlines about the issue knows that in the past year, the DRM battle has largely been won by laypeople; Apple has ceased selling DRM tracks in iTunes, for example. That isn’t to say Doctorow’s analysis isn’t useful. His now two-year-old essays serve largely as historical information in an era of meteoric technological and ethical shifts.

Doctorow is often too much of a technophile, incompatible with my own neo-Luddite tendencies; but I nevertheless respect his outlook and options. I suspect his work is most accessible to folks already engaged in analysis of copyright and new media. I’m most fond of his love of relaxed copyright regulation—though whether or not I think his theories are plausible is another matter. As a man who gives away his own ebooks, his early distaste of Amazon.com’s Kindle is charming. When he spends four pages defending fan fiction, it is in part because of his own history writing the genre. I love anyone who practices what they preach.

Doctorow also makes one sizable contribution to misinformation that I’d be remiss to not mention. In his essay “Why Is Hollywood Making a Sequel to the Napster Wars?” he mentions in passing that YouTube was founded by “two guys in a garage.” One of the largest myths of tech start-ups, the men in the garage story is not only an overused cliché; in this case, it is categorically untrue. YouTube was founded by three San Francisco PayPal veterans, supposedly at a dinner party, but despite widespread reports to the contrary, the idea grew over time and was not conceived in one evening of eating and drinking with friends. It may seem small, but when it comes to avoiding such blatant fact-checking mistakes, I expect more from an expert like Doctorow.

His largest contribution as a writer—both as a freelancer and a novelist—is his unrepentant championing of free books. ©ontent has been simultaneously released as a free ebook, so while I held a hard copy in my hands because I don’t personally believe tangible books are a dying medium, I respect Doctorow’s commitment to accessible media. I also happen to believe people like him when they say, “Giving away my books has made me a bunch of money.” Making yourself valuable and indispensable, in whatever form, is something for which we can all strive.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Magdalene and the Mermaids

By Elizabeth Kate Switaj

Paper Kite Press

After reading Elizabeth Kate Switaj’s collection of poetry Magdalene and the Mermaids, I decided I wanted to know a bit more about her. It turns out that she grew up in Seattle, spent years in Asia teaching English and traveling, lived briefly in Brooklyn, and is now back in Seattle. Movement and change and challenges to identity, which seem to be informed by her movements through the world, run through this book in addition to the themes and ideas of, you guessed it, Mary Magdalene and mermaids.

In many of the poems about mermaids, there is an idea that the speaker is out of place. The poems echo with loss and being misplaced in time or space and not quite being ready for whatever is about to happen. Frequently an image of transformation (scales falling off, tail splitting into legs) pops up and is almost always a painful one. These themes and ideas can resonate with a wide audience. Who hasn’t felt out of place or resented having to move or change?

The book and its themes are inextricably linked to women. Mentions of the moon and ancient connections to the feminine recur. Many of the poems connect with Mary Magdalene's being misunderstood and maligned. She is nearly always portrayed alone and thinking back to the crucifixion, and there is no one there to understand or empathize with her.

The poems don’t need to be read all at once in order to understand the book, but the pieces do link together. The collection of poems is powerful and strongly connected to women.

Review by Kristin Conard

Silver Metal Cuff

I don't do dangly bracelets. Perhaps it's the residual punk rock girl of my youth who influences the aesthetics of what I wear around my wrists, but I just can't bring myself to get down with chains and charms and all of that froo-froo stuff when it comes to arm adornment. For me, it's cuffs, bangles, or bust.

Tano Jewelry's Silver Metal Cuff ($14.99) is the epitome of what I look for in a bracelet. It's chunky, but not too heavy. Its design is interesting without being too busy. It's adjustable in size in case a friend wants to barter a temporary trade. It's also easy to slip on and off, which I am always doing because typing or eating with a bracelet on can get on my nerves. The cuff is stylistically versatile, so one can wear it when doing the casual thing or when stepping it up a bit for a night out at a show--punk rock, hip hop, indie, electronica... it doesn't matter which cuz the design isn't married to one particular scene or another.

I like to have options, and this bracelet makes that possible. The etchings follow the swirly pattern of the metal in an imprecise way, reminding me of someone's mind-wandering doodles. You know, like when you're talking on the phone with a friend you haven't spoken to in a while and you find you're having a rote conversation about what you've been up to that doesn't require brainpower? ("I've been working, hanging out with friends, same old stuff. And you?")

The cuff is made with a silver base metal and is about two and a quarter inches wide. I wore it for several days in a row, and am pleased to report that even though I'm in the hot and humid state of Georgia at the start of the summer, it did not turn my arm green. We'll see how it measures up to Kolkata, but I have high hopes.

Review by Mandy Van Deven

Mudbound

By Hillary Jordan

Algonquin Books

Mudbound, the first novel by Hillary Jordan, is all about tension. Race, family, marriage, class, identity are all buzzing, pressing in the narrative, and all of them feed into the greatest tension of all: the classic survival story of man versus nature.

The first few pages describe two brothers scrambling to dig a makeshift grave ahead of an impending storm. This scene sets the tone and becomes, in many ways, a vivid metaphor for the entire narrative. The characters are constantly battling to stay one step ahead of the novel’s tragic but inevitable conclusion.

Henry McAllan, a man bent on making a living out of a scrap of land, moves his wife, their two young daughters, and his elderly father from their home in Memphis to a farm on the Mississippi Delta. Laura, Henry’s wife and the main narrator, feels dismayed and demoralized by every aspect of farm life—from the shack that the family lives in, to their strong-willed black sharecropping family, to Henry’s preferential love of the land she hates. Worst of all is Henry’s bigoted, cantankerous father who makes the family’s life miserable in every way he can.

Jamie, Henry’s handsome younger brother, soon arrives home from fighting in World War II. Jamie is winsome and charming, but troubled. Seemingly too caught up in his war memories to recognize the perils of the post-war South, he befriends Ronsel, the son of the McAllan’s sharecroppers, and he watches as Laura falls in love with the idea of saving him from his inner demons. Jordan does a good job of heightening drama by fracturing the storyline with the multiple narrators (each character narrates individual chapters, a la As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner). She also does a remarkable job of creating characters that speak with languid Southern drawl while at the same time keeping the plot tight and tense.

The comparisons to As I Lay Dying are inevitable. Even Jordan, in an interview with NPR, makes the connection, if a bit uncomfortably. It’s difficult to invoke a heavyweight classic and not be measured against it, and it seems that this sort of inspection often doesn’t bode well for the new challenger.

An in-depth analysis could be interesting: both books have thematic similarities as well as multiple narrators, cantankerous patriarchs or matriarchs that burden their families even in death, wild rivers, class tensions and even unusual and affecting descriptions of the sounds of coffins: scrubbing of lathes, banging of nails. The McAllans achieve a bit more closure and happiness than their Faulknerian counterparts, and the lives of Addie Bundren and Laura have many parallels. However, it’s implied that Laura finds more vindication in motherhood and may even gain respect and understanding for her stolid husband. Although this isn’t exactly empowerment, it’s a version of a happy ending.

In side-by-side scrutiny, it’s a bit tempting to think of Jordan’s novel as Faulkner with less of that bitter aftertaste. Nonetheless, Mudbound holds its own by addressing universal and timeless themes with an emotional gravitas and a remarkably steady hand for a first time author.

Review by Jo Ristow

Write Here: A Journal for You

Illustrated by Cindy Crabb

Designed by Amy Watson

1984 Printing

Many journals are just plain, bound, lined pages. Others overwhelm with too many pictures or inspirational quotes. But Write Here has a pleasant mix of printed text and blank space for the writer, and is the perfect size to pack in your purse for writing while on the bus or when you're on your lunch break.

The first pages of the journal are an open to-do lists, which end with helpful and supportive hints: drink water, breathe, tell my friends why I like them, or remind myself how far I’ve come despite the rocky road. These are great reminders to all of us. It’s like the creators of the journal really want reaching out to you, and encourage you to have a good day.

Some of the pages are lined while others are blank, which allows choice in the way you write. If you’re feeling more straightforward, flip to a page with lines. If you’re feeling more free-form, then go to the open pages that are available. Blue line drawings of elephants, cat faces, flowers, stick figures, stars, and more are found dancing across the pages throughout the journal, and keep things exciting as you open it up.

Write Here was created by two women, and at the front of the book there is a 24-month menstrual record chart along with a section to check off when you give yourself a breast exam. There are tips to make your period less stressful-such as cutting back on salt and caffeine, as well as making sure to exercise, sleep regularly, and consume more calcium. It’s a nice inclusion, and something I’ve never seen in a journal before.

This may not be the best journal to give to the men in your life (though that does depend on the man), but I know I can’t wait to fill up my Write Here journal!

Review by Kristin Conard

The Music Teacher

By Barbara Hall

Algonquin Books

The Music Teacher is a story of failure. It is the story of what could have been, but wasn’t—because of neglect, because of abuse, or for the simple reason that not everyone succeeds. Most people fail.

Protagonist Pearl Swain is one of these failures. Swain was a gifted violinist, but her father hated (and feared) her passion for music so strongly that he burned her violin in a backyard fire. Now Swain is a violin teacher rather than a professional musician, an occupation which she views as a failure. Her marriage is also a failure, having recently ended with her professor husband impregnating another woman and leaving her.

Now, Swain’s life revolves completely around the music store where she gives her lessons, and the staff there, with whom she socializes and debates favorite music and artists a la High Fidelity. Her romantic prospects are limited to the men at the shop. Her life as a music teacher changes when an orphan named Hallie comes in for lessons. Swain identifies with Hallie, who is gifted but lacks the support system necessary for success. While Swain is enamored of the girl’s talent, she discovers that Hallie’s personal problems are far more dangerous than she suspected. But is it already too late? Is Swain already involved enough in Hallie’s life to be harmed?

Hallie acts as the catalyst for many of Pearl’s realizations, about the process through which talent becomes achievement, about parents and family, about her own childhood, and her marriage. Although bitter, Swain is ultimately likeable. The book stands out because of its exploration of failure and its unique juxtapositional setting. (Swain lives in a trailer park in Los Angeles, the city of stardom.)

Unfortunately, neither the writing nor the story is remarkable enough to stay in a reader’s head for long, unless he or she is particularly interested in the career of a professional musician.

Review by Elizabeth F.A. Meaney

Kilobyte Couture: Geek Chic Jewelry to Make From Easy-to-Find Computer Components

By Brittany Forks

Watson-Guptill Publications

As someone who has recently begun making and designing jewelry using the standard materials—such as beads, chains, ribbons—I was impressed to see a book about jewelry made from computer parts. Yes, that’s right, computer parts.

Written by former Etsy seller Brittany Forks, Kilobyte Couture touts itself as "geek chic", but I think many of the designs and styles are simply chic! For many of the styles, if you weren’t told it was made out of computer parts, you might never know. Forks literally transforms these “uncool and ‘nerdy’ things” and makes them “100 percent cute.” It connects women to things that may have in the past been relegated only to men: computer technology. It’s a fun way to creatively reclaim and rebrand what it means to be a geek while celebrating your love of uniquely geek-y things. There’s everything from rings and bracelets to ID holders and Wii charms.

Forks tells the reader where to get the items you'll need—whether online, from Radio Shack, or from local universities. You’ll also need some basic jewelry making tools from a craft store. There are vivid color pictures of the finished products along with detailed drawings of some of the more difficult (yet clear and easy to read) instructions. (As someone who teaches technical writing, I know clear and easy to follow directions are paramount!)

Kilobyte Couture isn’t just about creating fun and unique jewelry. It's an historical celebration of technology as well. Scattered throughout the book are Top 10 lists of the best nerdy date activities, leading men, cities, books, and more. There is also a timeline that traces the components you’ll be using for your jewelry back to the late 1800’s, which is when the first radio signal was transmitted.

Kilobyte Couture will inspire you to be proud of your inner (and now outer) geek!

Review by Kristin Conard

A Narrative Compass: Stories That Guide Women’s Lives

Edited by Betsey Hearne and Roberta Seelinger Trites

University of Illinois Press

When I read the back cover of A Narrative Compass, I thought it might be something nice to read before going to bed at night, and luckily, I was right. The texts this collection contains are great bedtime stories: attention grabbing, short, and self-contained. Reading it is a little bit like having all of your closest friends over for a gathering to talk about the stories you treasure from your youth, and how they have influenced you. The amazing women who have contributed to this collection often share stories so intimate, that they will shock you with their sincerity.

According to Betsey Hearne and Roberta Seelinger Trites’ introduction, the aim of the collection is to begin answering the following questions: “why storytelling is important to women, why storytelling is often gendered as a female discipline, and why we think narrative compasses have particularly important methodological consequences for women scholars.” This is an ambitious goal, but one that they seem to have gotten a good response to, judging by the selection of authors whom they have included. The theorizing will have to be left to a later date (luckily!) since introspection seems to be the order of the day and overarching theme of the texts included.

The nineteen contributors are all professors or students from a wide variety of fields. Every author takes up the editors’ challenge of showing and writing about her intimate narrative compass in a different manner and style. It is quite amazing to see how much thought has been put into these texts and this makes the collection quite unique and very pleasant to read. The compilation is divided into three parts called “Finding the Compass,” “Literary and Critical Directions,” and “Escaping Home, Finding Home.” These distinctions are not really important because as one reads through the book one realizes that each individual narrative is a self-contained entity.

As for the diverse narrative compasses, Karen Coat’s very introspective piece is often witty as she applies Lacan’s theoretical tenets to her developing relationship with her daughter Emily, who was born with Down’s Syndrome. Claudia Quintero Ulloa applies melodrama to her own life story as she depicts the past generations of strong females in her family (even including a family tree) and analyzes these women’s expression of emotion only while watching telenovelas. In Seelinger Trites’s piece, she reveals her own tumultuous trajectory through academia and finds analogous moments in Jo March’s nonconformist life from Little Women. Deyonne Bryant parallels her chosen path (both gendered and racialized) with that of the fictional Mary Jane from ">Dorothy Sterling’s 1959 novel about two black students entering an all-white school. Cindy L. Christiansen transforms her father’s sudden death when she was four years of age into a Nancy Drew-style mystery which she tries to solve in her essay. Joanna Hearne and Minjie Chen both construct the stories of their own families through recuperation of folktales of their youth and recording the stories of their elders.

Other books and authors examined in this anthology include: A Passage to India, The Teachings of Don Juan, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, The Secret Garden, the Nancy Drew series, The Bible, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Laura Ingalls Wilder, traditional Chinese texts, and many fairy tales. Any passionate reader will find something to their liking in this collection which guarantees many “me too!” moments.

Review by Sophie M. Lavoie

AngelBang

It's little wonder Belle Style's funky yet dainty jewelry has made cameos in films and television shows—like The Watchmen and Brothers and Sisters—and have been featured in magazines like Teen People, L.A. Confidential, and Tiger Beat. (Yes, the teeny bopper mag is still in print!) From Lisa Edelstein to Nicole Richie, the jewelry has wide appeal, and it's easy to see why.

I am not a girly girl when it comes to jewelry, but I fell in love with the AngelBang bracelet at first sight. Subtle and original in its design, this sterling silver bangle feels light and comfortable to wear. I do a lot of writing in my professional life, which means I don't want to have to take bracelets off and on because they're getting in my way. This bracelet made the cut for work.

Although the AngelBang is practical to wear to the office, it's also simple and elegant enough for an evening out. The clean, silver design is eye-catching and beautiful. Unlike other uniquely designed pieces, nothing is over-the-top or so colorful that you'd worry about looking out of place.

Each Belle Style accessory is like a small work of art, which is suiting because designer Heather Christine often draws inspiration from the Old Masters. The round charm on the AngelBang features a small angelface taken from Rafael's famous "Angels" painting. Those who don't have a thing for cherubs can also choose from an assortment of other charms and gems to accentuate your bangle.

Belle Style jewelry isn't cheap, but at $39, the sophisticated bracelet isn't ridiculously overpriced either. In fact, I think I just found my anniversary present.

Review by M.L. Madison

For a 15% discount on your Belle Style online purchase, use the Feminist Review Discount code: FR15. Please note the code in the comments section when ordering.

Afro-Punk Festival - Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM): Brooklyn, NY (7/3-7/12/2009)

In preparation for writing this review I watched the Matt Davis' documentary that inspired BAM's Afro-Punk Festival. Afro-Punk is a movement that gives “a voice to thousands of multi-cultural kids fiercely identifying with a lifestyle path-less-traveled,” particularly those who are into indie, punk, and hardcore music. The film is an insightful look at a topic that I had never really considered: what it is like to be an African American who is involved in a scene that is overwhelmingly White.

Afro Punk (the film) provides a peek into the internal conflicts Black people face by being one of the only people of color present in these musical and artist communities. Throughout watching the film I found myself wishing more young White people could hear these feelings, and was glad the Afro-Punk Festival would provide a way for New Yorkers of all backgrounds to come together. I had the opportunity to attend some of the Brooklyn events, and though most of the music was new, the introduction through both street fairs and the website was welcome.

I was familiar with The London Souls, so I enjoyed seeing play on July 5th. They played a great set of the bluesy yet danceable combination I adore. In true punk style, the festival was diverse and included an impressive range of voices, including many women. One honorable mention is Joya Bravo. You just can’t beat a musician who combines rap and violin. Her artistry is truly unique.

I was disappointed in the way the independent film segment of the festival was handled. Although I could not find any prices for the movies on the BAM website, which said all of the festival events were free, my friend and I were told we had to pay $11 when we arrived at BAM to see Two Towns of Jasper. Since I had already seen the film on PBS, we decided not to pay for a second viewing.

The closing block party included one of the most impressive street fairs I have ever attended. Each vendor was different from the last, and offered a variety of goods ranging from high quality clothing to housewares to crafts of all types. My favorite vendor, L.U.R.E., sold mobile art. Perfect for any urban travel enthusiast, get your art fix with colorfully decorated suitcases, hat bags, purses, and more.

On my way out of the block party I stopped by to speak to a woman from the Myrtle Avenue Brooklyn Partnership. We spoke about the festival and after I told her how much I was enjoying it I was told that the Partnership is going to be sponsoring a series of similar street fairs in the same area this September. I can’t wait!

Review by Janice Formichella

Capital Punishment: An Indictment by a Death-Row Survivor

By Billy Wayne Sinclair and Jodie Sinclair

Arcade Publishing

In 1965, Billy Wayne Sinclair accidentally killed a store clerk with a shot fired aimlessly into the dark after a robbery he had committed. One year later, at the age of twenty-one, he was sentenced to die in the electric chair for his crime, however unintentional. Sinclair initially dealt with his death sentence through denial, swallowing the tranquilizers the guards on death row dispensed to keep the inmates pacified. Thankfully, Sinclair became curious about the system that intended to kill him and the methods it had at its disposal to do so.

In 1972, the Supreme Court decided the case of Furman v. Georgia, effectively striking down the death penalty nationwide. Billy Wayne Sinclair’s sentence was commuted to life without parole. Over the next forty years that Sinclair spent in prison, he became a respected, award-winning writer and jailhouse lawyer. Since winning his freedom in 2006, Sinclair has established himself as a senior paralegal in a Houston law firm. Capital Punishment: An Indictment by a Death-Row Survivor is Sinclair’s second book.

The death penalty being the divisive issue that it is, it’s not likely that Capital Punishment will change many minds. The tales of miscarriages of justice, dirty politics, and DNA exonerations abounding throughout Sinclair’s book are enough to make one’s jaw drop in utter outrage. (Sinclair is fervently anti-death penalty, as might be inferred from past bitter experience.) However, that’s until Sinclair details the despicable crimes that led to the inmates’ death-row sentences in the first place, which generally caused me to lose any trace of pity I might have held. Perhaps Sinclair himself even realizes this, because the instances in which he actually discusses the crimes committed in a particular inmate’s case study are few and far between.

Sinclair is at his best when discussing in graphic detail America's present methods of executing condemned prisoners. Sinclair presents plenty of interesting anecdotes about the American way of death, past and present. For example, when Mary Surratt was hanged as a co-conspirator in Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, several people held her legs so that her undergarments wouldn’t “immodestly” show in her death throes. The sight of a woman’s underwear was more shocking to the public than the sight of that same woman dying painfully and publicly.

Thanks to several victim-blaming statements early in the book, I was not terribly impressed with Billy Wayne Sinclair's gender sympathies. He regained some ground in a later chapter titled “The Killers of Women” in which he discusses the disparity in the sentences given to those who kill women versus those who kill "real" people. Men who kill women are almost a legal anomaly. Two-thirds of all violent incidents against women in the United States involve a relative or an intimate, and six times as many women are the victims of violence at the hands of intimate partners as by strangers. However, men who kill intimate female partners are rarely if ever charged with first-degree or even second-degree murder. Generally, they plea-bargain down to lesser charges such as manslaughter and can serve even less time than automobile thieves. Capital punishment is rarely handed down in cases involving intimate partner murders. Sinclair makes the compelling argument that the murdered women are not viewed as "crime victims," but simply as victims of "domestic violence." Domestic violence victims, says Sinclair, do not receive the societal benefit of the justice of capital punishment when they are killed by rejected lovers and husbands. Of course, it doesn't help that socially, historically, and legally, women have been viewed as the property of men, to be disposed of as seen fit by her owner.

Female perpetrators of crimes serious enough to warrant the death penalty are extraordinarily rare. As of January 1, 2008, women made up only 1.5 percent of the United States' death row population. Because of this anomaly, and because Sinclair focuses mostly on Texas and Louisiana in his research, and furthermore because of his prior focus on disparate gender issues, I expected Sinclair to bring up the famous case of Karla Faye Tucker's execution in Texas in 1998. However, it merits only a one-line mention in an appendix of statistics. Karla Faye Tucker would have beautifully illustrated the hypocrisy inherent in America's thirst for blood vengeance, so long as that blood comes from the wounds of the public's image of a lower-class black male perpetrator. Tucker, however, was an attractive white female who had converted to fervent Christianity while imprisoned on death row for a brutal ax murder, thus contradicting in almost every way possible the "ideal" capital punishment candidate. Many at the time called for leniency for Tucker, who also begged for her life, but then-governor George Bush would not grant a stay of execution. The lesson here, one may surmise, is that women are treated more delicately and with more sympathy as convicted murderers (out of quaint ideas about the infirmities and inherent passivity and pacifism of women) than they are as the victims of brutality.

I'd liked to have known more about Sinclair's own life on death row, and I did have a few quibbles with his editing and facts, but on the whole I found this to be an exhaustively researched and well-written book, and perhaps enlightening and inspiring to others who have found themselves back outside after years in the penal system. Those who are staunchly and unflinchingly on one side or the other of the capital punishment debate will not likely be swayed to change their position, but there are plenty of facts, case studies, statistics, and anecdotes to make the undecided and the fence-sitters fall to one side.

Review by Natalie Ballard

Race, Place, and Environmental Justice After Hurricane Katrina: Struggles to Reclaim, Rebuilt and Revitalize New Orleans and the Gulf Coast

By Robert D. Bullard and Beverly Wright

Westview Press

Hurricane Katrina was one of those events that it was impossible not to be affected by because the images we all watched on our televisions and in the newspapers were so horrible. There was a sense of shock that U.S. citizens could be treated so poorly in their own country. Yet this outrage seems to have faded along with the general public’s memory of the storm.

Hurricane Katrina will forever alter the course of history in New Orleans and the life paths of thousands of families from the region. Bullard and Wright’s set of essays, Race, Place, and Environmental Justice After Hurricane Katrina, begins to make sense of the government policies that allowed New Orleans to flood, as well as post-Katrina efforts to rebuild the city and region. This collection is a reminder that there is a lot of work that still needs to be done in New Orleans, particularly in poor and African American communities, which have suffered disproportionately.

The twelve essays that make up the book are broken into four sections, encompassing the challenges of racialized place, health and environment post-Katrina, equitable rebuilding and recovery and policy choices for social change. Essay topics range from disparities in access to transportation to environmental contaminants after the hurricane. The most powerful aspect of the book is that it sheds light on the fact that Hurricane Katrina was only partly a natural disaster, which was substantially exacerbated by the way that government and society as a whole chose to (not) respond.

The authors argue that the lack of preparedness and dismal response to victims of Hurricane Katrina are profoundly impacted by race and class. The essays force the reader to ask themselves again and again, “What would have happened if New Orleans was full of predominantly wealthy white people?”

Race, Place, and Environmental Justice After Hurricane Katrina isn’t exactly an easy or light-hearted read, but it is full of important information that will be of particular interest to people interested in the theoretical importance of the concept of place, as well as anyone interested in better understanding environmental justice and racial disparities.

Review by Liz Simmons

The Female Brand: Using the Female Mindset to Succeed in Business

By Catherine Kaputa

Davies-Black

Ask yourself this question: what is your unique quality or attribute that makes you an asset to a company? Can you answer that? Whether you are a recent graduate or have been laid off from your job, you need to know how to market yourself and create your own brand. That's where Catherine Kaputa comes in with The Female Brand: she teaches how to brand yourself and helps you stand out from the rest of the applicant pool.

Throughout the book, Kaputa recognizes the differences between the female and male gender, and how they work differently in the corporate world. However, Kaputa emphasizes to her readers NOT to act like men, but use their feminine qualities to their advantage. Examples include being a team person instead of the barking leader, using your intuition to understand people, and having an unique image. When Kaputa discusses image, it's not about being a beauty queen, but projecting your confidence. This could be a suit that makes you feel like a million bucks, or (for me) a pair of cool glasses that always get noticed.

The emphasis of the book is to catapult women to the CEO and other top corporate positions. Besides the branding lessons by Kaputa, every chapter ends with a story by a successful woman who tells her story and her rise on the corporate ladder. In addition, inspirational quotes appear before each story from other powerful women.

As a member of the Class of 2009, every single section of The Female Brand was essential. It has taught me to re-sculpt what my professional goals are, and how to get them. An additional tool that the book provides is worksheets to help you put your plans into action. Kaputa also encourages communication with other co-workers and senior administrators to help you improve. Whether you have a job, looking for one or want a change, this is the perfect book to plan your corporate image.

Review by Elizabeth Stannard Gromisch

Who’s Afraid of Kathy Acker?

Written and directed by Barbara Caspar
Fragile Features

Finally, a documentary on legendary writer Kathy Acker, whose influence on sex-positive, brazen, post-modern feminist literature and art is unsurpassed. Perhaps there would have been no Riot Grrrl movement if Acker had not spoken to a young Kathleen Hanna. Hanna recalls that “Acker asked me why writing was important to me, and I said, ‘Because I felt like I’d never been listened to and I had a lot to say,’ and she said, ‘Then why are you doing spoken word?? No one goes to spoken word shows! You should get in a band’.”

Who’s Afraid of Kathy Acker? contains interviews with well known icons like Hanna and Semiotext(e) publisher Sylvere Lotringer, yet also features young female students who all give different interpretations on Acker’s work and influence on their writing. There are also, of course, family members, ex-lovers, friends, and peers who all give insight into the life, work, and early death of Kathy Acker, who died in 1997 from breast cancer.

Acker, covered in tattoos and piercings, with her shaved head and a gold tooth, was a punk rock literary genius. Her experimental, post-modern writing reflected the anger, struggle for power, vulnerability, and schizophrenia of being a strong, sexually deviant woman in a patriarchal society. She turned male literature on its head by re-writing several misogynist texts from the perspective of women. Her characters blur gender and are not constrained by space, time, or death. Acker saw language as a system similar to capitalism and patriarchy—therefore, one to be deconstructed. Her work was cut-up, non-linear, sexually explicit, offensive, and sometimes nonsensical. Banned in some countries and derided by some feminists, the true genius of Acker’s work emerges in the differing of opinion and interpretation of it.

Like all good biographical documentaries, we see glimpses of Acker’s early life through photographs and archival footage as well as interviews. We also get to see her naked and masturbating in an art film she made in college! But this documentary is experimental in its own right, reflecting the cut-up, post-modern nature of Acker’s writing, through techniques like animation and voice-overs, arty shots with text across them while interviewees talk behind it, pornographic clips, and ambient electronic and punk music. It all combines to create a non-linear telling of Acker’s life story and brilliant mind.

At eighty-four minutes, it is a long biographical documentary, sometimes meandering in repetition and its own artfulness. A straight-up story of Acker’s life could have been contained in less time. Yet anyone familiar with Acker’s work knows that would not have been an appropriate homage to a writer whose work is still a huge influence on experimental writing and feminist theory.

My only irritation with the film was the interviews with the young students, which, although interspersed within the entire documentary, open the film, creating a vague and confusing introduction to an extremely dynamic person’s life. The presence of the students also breaks the flow and feels disconnected from the rest of the documentary. Perhaps, as a nod to Acker, that was intentional.

In any case, as with Acker’s work, you may get confused, annoyed, enthralled, offended, and turned on by this documentary. It is a great portrait of a life and mind that should never be forgotten.

Review by Jyoti Roy

The Slave Next Door: Human Trafficking and Slavery in America Today

By Kevin Bales and Ron Soodalter

University of California

Before starting this book, prepare yourself. Bales and Soodalter take an in depth look at slavery in America, and they reveal some dark stories that some people may find too disturbing. Slavery, unfortunately, did not end in the United States with the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment. It exists throughout the world through house, field, and sexual servitude. Many of the victims of slavery go unheard or receive little support; if they are afraid to report or do not have the proper paperwork, they face deportation and returning home in shame. Others do not get the necessary psychiatric help after the devastation they endure.

The treatment of the slaves described in this book is deplorable. One of the first stories given is about Maria, who was lured from Mexico with promises of an education, and then was enslaved. The young girl was ordered to do housework and was subject to physical and sexual abuse. When she was not working, she was chained outside and sometimes was forced to eat dog feces. If a neighbor had not seen Maria (the yard had an eight-foot concrete fence), she might have died. The sad part is Maria's story is not uncommon; what is rare is her being rescued.

Would you be able to identify someone held in captivity? Would you know what to do? Many people may say that it could never happen in their town, but it exists everywhere. You may be surprised. Bales and Soodalter referenced cases in Connecticut, which I've never heard of, even though I have lived in the state for fifteen years. However, besides describing the serious offenses of slavery, Bales and Soodalter offers stories of Good Samaritans who have made a difference. In addition, at the end of the book, resources are provided if you want to get involved in fighting human trafficking. The Slave Next Door provides an exceptional view of slavery in the world, and is a valuable tool for human trafficking activists.

Review by Elizabeth Stannard Gromisch

Eliza Redford Necklace

The Eliza Redford Necklace from Paper Treasure is definitely unique. It was named after a ship that wrecked in a storm on Lake Ontario on November 16, 1893. The necklace it makes you think about the ship that wrecked and the people on it. It takes you back to a far off place and time and makes you wonder about what happened on that day.

The necklace has a round, gold locket that opens, allowing the wearer to keep a picture of a loved one close to your heart. Both the face of the locket and the inside can hold a photo. The locket has a smaller medallion and a feather attached to it. They are almost pewter in color so the charms contrast with the gold. The medallion has intricate etchings on the front and back, including an inscription of the word dragon, which is quite lovely.

The chain for the piece is made of recycled gold with vintage silver-toned links. It is quite long, so the locket naturally hangs low on the neck. You don’t have to wear the necklace long though; you can adjust the length of the chain to suit your needs. At the clasp's end there is a tiny etching of a ship sailing through the water, which is a neat little surprise!

The company's name, Paper Treasure, invokes the feeling that simply by visiting the website you are sure to find a beautiful bounty just like the Eliza Redford. The piece is not just decorative to the body, but can also function as wall art by hanging it from your mirror or somewhere special to give it meaning. When your friends and family ask where you found such an unusual piece of jewelry, you will certainly have a story to tell them.

Review by Amber Whitman

Vegan Brunch: Homestyle Recipes Worth Waking Up For - From Asparagus Omelets to Pumpkin Pancakes

By Isa Chandra Moskowitz

Da Capo Press

Vegan = tofu = dreadlocks = body odor = weird. This review is not about debunking the vegan stereotype equation, and all its variations, but rather about introducing the equal opportunity indulgence: brunch.

In a first read through, Isa Chandra Moskowitz's cookbook Vegan Brunch is nearly perfect. There are large color pictures for almost every recipe, which is an amateur chef must. There are clear and accessible ingredients, measurements, and instructions. Moskowitz even includes a shopping list for your vegan pantry and tips for serving a fabulous and delicious brunch. I would make the clichéd request for a spiral bound copy, so I’m not propping it open with a can of corn.

Do not be mistaken; this is not a raw, whole food, health cookbook. This is a cookbook to provide all the staples of a fantastic, 11am on a Sunday with a Bloody Mary (or Bloody Moskowitz, as the cookbook offers), just as one craves after a Sunday morning run, or Saturday night bender.

But, as they say, the proof is in the soy pudding. I had to try the recipes to really give this cookbook a critical review. The perfect opportunity presented itself when my New Yorker husband and mother-in-law met my Texan family in the Lone Star State. Without a vegan in the audience, I chose three recipes that I thought offered a fair scope of the recipes within.

On the first morning, I prepared the Polenta Rancheros. It was a resounding success, and nobody even asked where the meat products were. A variation of Huevos Rancheros, the creamy polenta replaces the eggs, creating a spicy, filling meal in one bowl. Approved by all the Tex-Mex fans at the table, the only glitch was that the coriander seeds didn't quite blend, but I think that was user error.

Second morning, I baked the Tomato Rosemary Scones. Relatively simple and quite pretty when finished, the scones were devoured. The sweetness of the tomato was nicely balanced with the fresh rosemary. The only mild criticism was that they didn't have the consistency of scones, but rather bread. This is true—the crumbly texture of a traditional scone was missing—but I didn't miss it one bit.

Finally, to lure my twenty-one year old brother to my parents' home, I prepared the Chocolate Beer Waffles. The batter is quick and simple to make, and the end product is dessert-like. I prepared them with the recommended Cashew Cream with cinnamon and Chocolate Syrup. A minor quip: even though the recipe says to follow manufacturer’s instructions for the waffle iron, I ended up cooking them twice as long as traditional waffles and they stuck a bit. Also, plan ahead for the cashew cream. You have to soak the cashews for at least an hour, and then it needs about an hour to thicken up. But overall, this was delicious and goes well with leftover beer—if you don’t mind drinking beer at brunch.

I think the real success of this cookbook is that it is not overrun with substitutes or faux-meat products. There are quite a few mouth-watering tofu scrambles, vegan sausage recipes that call for wheat gluten, and several uses of tempeh (fermented soybeans). These are all easily acquirable products, and relatively unprocessed. I didn’t notice any instances of processed, faux animal products, which can be good, but can also taste like a salted rubber band. This cookbook makes being vegan easy—perhaps too easy, as I drool over the Caramelized Vidalia Onion Quiche recipe, and try to think of an excuse to make another brunch.

Review by Claire Burrows

Old World Daughter, New World Mother

By Maria Laurino
WW Norton

Taking us from her childhood to the present, Maria Laurino explores what it’s like to be an Italian American woman through the lens of identity, feminism, ethnicity, motherhood, pregnancy, and economics in Old World Daughter, New World Mother. Laurino unveils the restrictions she faced as a feminist daughter, as well as all that a traditionally Italian upbringing entails. We learn of her severely over-protective mother who gets up at dawn to make the day’s meals, how this mamma’s actions and attitudes have rippled across the pond of Laurino’s life, and why this mamma did not serve as a role model for her daughter because she remained stuck within an ever “motherly” and self-effacingly sacrificial role.

This theme of sacrificial motherhood is ubiquitous in the book, and Laurino later ties it in to her deep analysis of feminism and motherhood in America today. In a way, Laurino’s story is epic because it is both personal and boundless. At least part of her story—her thoughts and feelings about life lived through the stark lens of feminism—will resonate with most readers. While Laurino is fond of details her humanity broadens their reach, which is precisely what makes this book so touching, graceful, and important.

Laurino shares the connections that she forms with herself and everyone around her, even when they’re not reciprocated. There is enough intimate divulgence to let us perceive our narrator’s sensitivity in the face of a callous world, and we see strength inhabit Laurino as she surpasses obstacles to evolve into the writer who lived to tell the tale. As I read, I truly marveled at the uninhibited candor and courage stemming from this person who is, in the end, so much like each of us.

This book deals largely with “reconstructive feminism” or “family humanism.” Laurino explores ways in which feminism can approach class and economic equality, mitigate the difficulties of working-class parents (women in particular), and deconstruct the myth of independence anchored in American culture that leads mothers to make false choices about their careers. When she interviews Nidia, a working-class mother who lacked the opportunity to get to know her children because she had to work (with no benefits, minimal vacation time, and no flexibility to even use an office phone to call home and check that her children had gotten home safely from school) an embarrassed Laurino if Nidia is a feminist or supports the movement: “’Let me see,’ [Nidia] replied with a sly smile, ‘is that when women fought for the right to employment?’”

Essentially, Laurino believes it imperative that the “two strands of the women’s movement—one that sought to protect women’s interests as wives and mothers, the other that fought for universal human rights—converge once again.” She affirms there need not be contradiction in a “feminist motherhood agenda,” which would serve us all—mothers and otherwise—supremely well. Laurino introduces ideas for legislation to guide us in moving forward that utilizes cultural perspectives inspired by her Italian upbringing. She also suggests actions we can take right now.

Appropriately, this book has reminded me that we are all linked together. We all matter because we are all riding the same wave of life, as Laurino likes to say, and injustice against one will duly impact everyone riding it—and so will compassion. This is a memoir that cruises through politics, ethnicity, motherhood, and identity politics while pulling the reader back into the palpability of these encompassing themes.

Old World Daughter, New World Mother is an important and potentially paradigm-shattering book with a lot to offer feminists, especially to those privileged enough to get their hands on it. As Laurino walks us through her deconstruction of myths, prejudices, and familial ingrained ideas, her concepts breathe a tender and brave vitality onto us, and stretches our minds to blur misconceptions about motherhood, ethnicity, class, the economy, and feminism itself.

This book is nourishment. Don’t miss it.

Review by Natalia Real

Starfucker - Jupiter

Badman Recording

I don't dance. At least not well. So an evening of bopping or grinding or shaking (or whatever the kids are into these days) isn't my scene. But that's no excuse to excise whole genres from my potential music library, and more electronic acts are creeping in by the day. Some of this music is too overwrought and pretentious for my taste, but from a group like Starfucker, which doesn't take themselves too seriously, the music can be gosh darn fun.

The three-man group, based in Portland, Oregon, is comprised of Josh Hodges, Ryan Bjornstad, and Shawn Glassford. Hodges' career before forming Starfucker included an album of '80s covers. That background which shows itself here in a nifty cover of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," as well as in his songwriting on the seven other tracks, each an original composition. The first, aptly titled "Medicine," gives the listener an immediate dose of what Starfucker is all about: catchy hook, techno beats, and interesting samples. Tune out if you like and bob along without a thought, or tune in and muse about the androgynous vocals or the retro samples of a lecture expounding on the meanings of "philosophy" that weaves in and out of the music.

Techno pop is implicitly optimistic, celebrating better living through science, robots, and outer space. Even though I did not grow up on the genre, a childhood of Star Wars and video games prepped my ear to enjoy it. The synthesized music here is repetitive, like a video game's soundtrack, but never boring. The second track, "Boy Toy," could have been written and performed by a pining R2D2 or Mega Man. Again, it is instantly catchy, but more aggressively techno than the first song, utilizing a full range of beeps and whistles. The following "Dance Face 2000" continues in that direction with computerized vocals that teasingly sound almost like discernible human speech, but not quite. Track 5, "Biggie Smalls," stands out by using oriental scales behind a synthesized organ.

All of Starfucker's songs feel immediately familiar, so a song we are familiar with can hoodwink us. The sixth track brings us to the aforementioned cover of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." A listener who hadn't studied the title list beforehand might think it was another original composition until the recognizable lyrics kick in. If we'd been lulled by the album's listenability thus far, suddenly we are paying attention. Well-known lyrics like, "Oh Daddy dear, you know you're still number one," in a male voice are refreshing to both ear and mind, coyly forcing the listener to consider the ambiguity of gender. It seems that both girls and boys like to have fun.

Like Starfucker's first album, Jupiter was recorded with Dylan Magierek. There is nothing "indie" about the flawless production. My only complaint is that the album is too short.

Review by Charlotte Malerich

Repeat After Me

By Rachel DeWoskin

Overlook

Rachel DeWoskin’s debut novel, Repeat After Me, is a cultural love story between two people whose lives briefly intertwine. Afterwards, they are never the same again. The story follows the relationship between a young neurotic ESL teacher in Manhattan, Aysha Silvermintz, and her student, Da Ge, a mysterious, silent, Chinese national who comes to the U.S. just after the Tienanmen Square uprisings.

Whatever they may lack in communication skills, they compensate for in emotional understanding. Both come from difficult families and have personal baggage to deal with. The day Da Ge walks into Aysha's classroom, Aysha begins to fall in love with him. After they spend time together, Da Ge abruptly asks Aysha to marry him so he can obtain his U.S. citizenship. When Aysha becomes pregnant, she does not tell Da Ge right away because she is not sure how he will react. Sometimes, he is distant from her, while other times, he is emotionally close. He also spends days away from the apartment without telling her where has been and she does not question him. He only says he has ‘business.’

Da Ge married her for citizenship. But, Aysha married him for more. She married for love and his ideals. The tension of what this arrangement entailed constantly lingered in their interactions. Then, one day Da Ge takes off again and after a few days, Aysha finally goes looking for him. She finds that he has committed suicide. To make sense of his life and death, she moves to China to deliver and raise her child.

DeWoskin writes her novel in a multicultural narrative which immediately captivates a reader’s attention. Her writing is emotional, graceful, and provocative filled with beautiful, sometimes painful images. But her story is always focused on the human spirit. The characters she portrays are seekers trying to find answers in the world, trying to follow a path, and find peace. The torment in Da Ge was too great. He was a child of Tiananmen Square. His continuous teachings to Aysha of China, both of its past and present, illustrate his internal struggle of wanting a democracy in China. The physical bruises and scars are manifestations of his fight with the powers that be. His willingness to learn English and his inability to survive in new culture surface a wounded soul. Aysha needed to go to China to discover a peace for herself. She had to now practice Da Ge’s teachings. After years of living alone, she now would become a nurturer to her child. She wanted to be as close as possible to Da Ge’s spirit as possible with all the tastes, smells, culture, and reminders. This would be her salvation.

DeWoskin’s novel is character-driven and sophisticated, but does not lack in plot. She vividly describes her characters' moods, expressions, habits, and desires without giving too much away. Readers will not get bored. She gives her readers enough information so they will care about her characters. She engages them to read on. This is a rare talent. The story is also one which is bittersweet, and is told with raw honesty.

Review by Mona Lisa Safai

Atmospheric Disturbances

By Rivka Galchen

Picador

In some cases, you may be midway through a story, novel, or film before realizing you’re dealing with an unreliable narrator. He or she is biased, withholding information, or mentally unstable. (Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s disturbing story “The Yellow Wallpaper” springs to mind as just one example.) In Atmospheric Disturbances, the debut novel by Rivka Galchen, it is apparent early on that the main character, psychiatrist Dr. Leo Liebenstein, is off his rocker. Perhaps that’s putting it too strongly. Liebenstein is delusional, but his delusion is at first confined to one specific aspect of his life: he is convinced that his wife Rema has been replaced by a double, who he terms a simulacrum.

As Liebenstein sets out to “find” his wife in a very roundabout manner, we learn how they met at the Hungarian Pastry Shop in Upper Manhattan shortly after Rema arrived in the U.S. from Argentina. We also learn that she is now a translator at the same hospital where Liebenstein works and we are told about one of Liebenstein’s patients, Harvey, who is convinced he is a secret agent of the Royal Academy of Meteorology. The Academy, he believes, is able to manipulate weather and must act against mysterious forces that would use meteorological phenomena for their own purposes.

While treating Harvey, at Rema’s suggestion, Liebenstein decided to play along with Harvey’s version of the world and pretend to be an agent of the Academy as well, a higher-ranking one passing orders along. To make the story convincing, Liebenstein and Rema chose the name of a scientist at the Royal Academy, Tzvi Gal-Chen, who was supposedly issuing Harvey instructions through his therapist. The ruse works and Liebenstein is able to keep Harvey from leaving town without warning by telling him that his assignment is to monitor the New York weather. But now, just hours before the simulacrum appears, he has gone missing. As Liebenstein ponders the meaning of Rema’s doppleganger and how he can find the real Rema, he becomes increasingly obsessed with Tzvi Gal-Chen, believing that his meteorological publications contain instructions that will lead him to Rema. As Liebenstein becomes more and more part of the world Harvey has constructed, the reader must ask, what is the distance between patient and healer?

A friend noted that the book calls into question everyone’s perceptions of reality, and in a way that’s true. For example, Rema and her mother have different opinions of what happened to Rema’s father, both plausible, and neither woman seems delusional. Perhaps one of them is in denial, or perhaps they really don’t know. Later, Rema’s overheard telephone conversation reveals her perception of her husband, which differs from her mother’s and probably his own.

Galchen, herself a psychiatrist, writes with an ease and an eye for detail that draw the reader in. While the focus of the story is narrow and there are only a handful of characters, the writing is playful and smart. The reader delights in finding clues as to Liebenstein’s behavior and personality and gaining insight into his character. And while we become frustrated with the errant doctor, his devotion to his wife and her real feelings for him keep us reading.

I found myself exasperated and touched by Liebenstein. His dependence on Rema to ground him is apparent and he describes almost every woman he meets in comparison to Rema. He is also kindhearted in his own strange way, noting that it was wrong of him to leave the simulacrum without a word. His empathy towards her, all while refusing to accept her evidence that she is, in fact, the real Rema, is heartbreaking. Galchen’s prose expresses his longing: “Her voice in the dark, so familiar—is was almost as if Rema was actually there with me, in the absence of luminosity, and maybe she really was there, paying me a visitation.” Seeking Rema has become a kind of holy quest.

Atmospheric Disturbances ends without resolving the questions it raises about Liebenstein’s sanity, Harvey’s strange reappearance, or the existence of Tzvi Gal-Chen. In another novel this might be unsettling, but in this case the beauty of the prose offers the completion that is lacking in the plot. A beautifully written, original debut.

Review by Karen Duda

Linda Draper - Bridge and Tunnel

Planting Seeds Records

Linda Draper makes folk music of the best sort: lighthearted and charming with firmly grounded melodies and honest, straightforward lyrics with a poetic yet realistic slant. Bridge and Tunnel's opening track, “Limbo,” is a good indication of what’s to come. It’s a slow yet fairly upbeat tune with understated organ, acoustic guitar, drums, and electric bass and showcases her lovely voice, particular on the drawn-out vocals of the refrain.

An echoing chorus, upright bass, and an irreverent attitude distinguish “Sharks and Royalty,” while Draper’s vocal, which teeters on the edge of a breathy soprano, is showcased on the chiming “I Will.” The peppy “Time Will Tell” stands out for its jaunty beat; muted bells and chimes contribute to its jazzy feel. Her clever lyrics are amply displayed here too: “Everybody else needs somebody else who/got something more than them to lose.” And the rhymes trip off her tongue on “Broken Eggshell,” an appealing upbeat tune. “Every corner that meets/there’s two more empty streets/I’ve been walking down.”

The slow and plaintive “Close Enough” is a change of pace and deals with a troubled long-distance relationship. Draper’s cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Mother’s Little Helper” is noticeably different from the rest of the songs. It is essentially a cappella, with Draper’s chanted vocals accompanied only by tambourines. While I don’t know what Mick Jagger et. al. had in mind as the “helper” in 1966, today’s audiences will undoubtedly think of Prozac. The tongue-in-cheek lyrics and oddly echoing vocal create a jarring though enjoyable ambiance, and describe the life of a disaffected housewife with an uncanny immediacy. The more things change, the more they stay the same, she seems to be commenting with this song choice.

The tracks on Bridge and Tunnel are deceptively simple at first, but upon repeated listening they get under your skin and you find yourself humming along. Draper’s vulnerable yet clear-sighted persona makes it easy to relate to her music, and her voice carries the album.

Review by Karen Duda

Laughing without an Accent: Adventures of an Iranian American at Home and Abroad

By Firoozeh Dumas

Villard

Laughing without an Accent is Firoozeh Dumas’s second book, after her debut memoir Funny in Farsi. Dumas is an Iranian-American who writes about the similarities and differences in Iranian cultures through her own experiences growing up in Iran and America. The book is a compilation of twenty-eight vignettes which span her life in both countries. The vignettes portray her childhood, adolescence, and adulthood in the most memorable ways, usually leaving the reader with a smile or laugh before eagerly turning to read the next story.

These days, Iranians are fighting for free, fair, and democratic elections and for their personal rights and freedom. Humor is not the first thing that may come to mind for Americans when thinking about Iranians right now. However, Dumas, who is married to a Frenchman, writes her stories with such ease that humor is exactly what readers find in each story, along with kindness, compassion, love, and sometimes chaos. Almost all of her stories are about her family, and how Persian culture really defines itself in society—or... well... doesn’t (hence, the humor).

One example of calamity is the cultural clash that occurs over a holiday feast her husband cooks for her parents. This is a hysterical but good-hearted read along with her other story of the amazingly bright red comforter that Firoozeh’s mother brought for them that just wouldn’t disappear. Her stories are meaningful because readers, regardless of origin, can relate to the humanity behind her writing.

Dumas’ descriptive skill gives her the leeway to explore her characters more freely, and set a peaceful tone for her readers. She challenges us to look beyond the dissimilarities and focus on the similarities which bring us together. She cleverly uses humor, grace, and respect for the written word as her instruments in one unique symphony. The music that she creates is our laughter—some with accents, some without.

Review by Mona Lisa Safai

Call Me Ahab

By Anne Finger

University of Nebraska Press

Anne Finger’s award-winning Call Me Ahab showcases a plethora of historical and literary characters—each of whom is in some way disabled—and imagines new scenarios for their lives. It’s an exciting concept and while several of the stories in the nine-story collection left me cold, Finger is to be lauded for her originality.

Her talent is particularly vivid in "Vincent." Here, Finger brings Vincent Van Gogh into the late 20th century. Instead of brother Theo endlessly supporting his deranged, if talented, sibling, he cuts him off, leaving Vincent to fend for himself on the teeming streets of New York City. Vincent’s heartbreaking existence is juxtaposed with that of a young, male bureaucrat employed by the Social Security Administration. The pairing is better than a social science text on service delivery, poignantly demonstrating the system’s betrayal of them both.

"Gloucester" re-imagines King Lear, but this time through the contemporary eyes of Gloucester Barrows, a middle-aged man dying of AIDS. Although Barrows is from a prominent political family—think the Kennedy or Bush clans—his marriage dissolved when his wife-of-convenience divorced him following his diagnosis. Now blind, Gloucester is eager to settle his affairs and has no choice but to rely on his two sons. Dexter, the elder, is pursuing elected office and has little time for his ailing dad; Charlie, just 20, is a hippie’s hippie who has renounced material privilege to live in horrifying squalor. Gloucester’s navigation of this rocky terrain is pitch perfect and emotionally riveting.

"The Blind Marksman" takes readers into a mock socialist dystopia under the rule of “the Great Pilot of Our People, the Beacon of Hope to the Proletarians of the World, the Heroic Leader of the Struggle Against the Fascist Invader,” and introduces a blind marksman whose one-time feat with a bow-and-arrow is embellished with each telling. Like the children’s game of “telephone,” the story becomes more and more absurd, until in the end regime change renders the marksman a caricature of his former self.

The story implies that socialism is no better at protecting individuals than capitalism. But is this true? Call Me Ahab, winner of the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Fiction, is full of questions and what-ifs. For example, what if Moby Dick was told from Ahab’s perspective? What might Helen Keller and Frida Kahlo have discussed if they’d met? Finger’s "Helen and Frida" presents a bawdy conversation between the two that will leave you reeling, grinning, or both. Other stories feature those whose perspectives are not typically considered—the dwarf in painter Velasquez’ Las Meninas; a Jewish artist commissioned to draw disfigured internees for Hitler’s medics; and feeble-minded Ned Lud, the man behind the anti-machine Luddite Rebellion, among them.

Throughout, there’s attention to the Holocaust, anti-Semitism, sexism, racism, and discrimination against people with disabilities. While message is never sacrificed to craft, Finger wants readers to appreciate the contributions made by those with physical and psychological limitations. “Who is our greatest poet after Mr. Shakespeare?” she asks. “Why blind John Milton. And in my own century of origin, Monsieur Proust was by his asthma-laden lungs impaired in a major life function… I could mention fit-shaken Van Gogh, dwarf Toulouse-Lautrec, and mad Miss Woolf…Look to the signing of the Declaration of Independence. What see you? A one-legged man, and another who adds a palsied scrawl. Who raised the nation up from the depths of the Depression? Why a man with a pair of legs like cooked spaghetti.”

World affairs and letters have clearly benefited from the talents of the disabled. But Call Me Ahab is no diatribe. Instead, it is a cheering section for the forgotten and under-appreciated and a testament to creativity, whimsy, and intellect.

Review by Eleanor J. Bader

The Return of Depression Economics

By Paul Krugman

WW Norton

Paul Krugman's The Return of Depression Economics is one of the most accessible reads on the current financial crisis. The 2008 winner of the Nobel Prize in Economics successfully avoids jargon in presenting a smart, interesting take on global financial crises in the 1990s. Originally published ten years ago, Krugman updated it to reflect current events.

In The Return of Depression Economics, Krugman mainly places blame on leveraged credit, which substantially increased risks associated with investment. He chronicles the creation of “shadow banks,” secondary institutions that provide unregulated monetary advances, and intelligently refutes those polemics who would state the financial crisis has no immediate precedent. Krugman plainly examines smaller yet similar meltdowns in Latin America and Asia.

Those without a background in economics or international studies can understand the scale of the crisis encountered in 2008. Krugman states a number of recommendations for policy makers. He says, “What the world needs right now is a rescue operation. The global credit system is in a state of paralysis, and a global slump is building momentum. Reform of the weaknesses that made this crisis possible is essential, but it can wait a little while.” For the immediate future, he advocates increasing spending, reviving credit, and essentially introducing legislation for a “new regulatory regime.”

Consistently, Krugman manages to engage the reader. In describing the vicious cycle of the economic meltdown, he uses a self-described “whimsical” example of a baby-sitting cooperative to explain the effects of a recession. Krugman does, however, underscore the gravity of the subjects he discusses. He states: “Fifteen years ago hardly anybody thought that modern nations would be forced to endure bone-crushing recessions for fear of currency speculators, and that major advanced nations would find themselves persistently unable to generate enough spending to keep their workers and factories employed. The world economy has turned out to be a much more dangerous place than we imagined.”

Krugman clearly defines the importance of learning lessons from the Great Depression. Indeed, now, there is no longer an excuse for blatant ignorance on the subject of recent events in the global economy.

Review by Anita Sonawane

Karma Calling

Directed by Sarba Das

Shakti Productions

Director Sarba Das has taken the stomach-churning subject of credit card debt and used it as a hilarious plot device in this endearing romp of a screwball romantic comedy. Watching Karma Calling is definitely non-stop farcical fun as the maxed out Raj’s, a Hindu family living above their means in Hoboken, are pestered by credit card call center collectors based in India.

Ingenious scenes highlight the absurdity of our hyper-globalized world as the Indian collectors learn how to sound American and choose fake names based on popular American sitcoms. The plot thickens when a relative of the Raj’s arrives from India, intending to influence her family to stop eating meat and start meditating. Traditional India meets Americanized Indians and it all adds up to the exploration of basic human values: family unity, love and money.

The set up is this: one day, the smoothest operator from the India call center, the absolutely adorable and charismatic Rob Roy, calls the Raj house and daughter Sonal picks up the phone. Soon the two are chatting away and the chemistry is immediate. What Somal doesn’t know (because of his finely perfected American accent and slang) is that Rob is an ocean away instead of being a boy next door.

Adding to this comedy of cultural errors is Sonal’s brother Shyam, who dreams of making it as a hip-hop artist with a song that features a Japanese title. While “hanging out in the ‘hood,” Shyam suddenly finds himself smitten with an Indian girl who recently arrived in the nabe and is about to marry a Dollar Store mogul in an arranged marriage. What to do? Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Raj try to figure out how to pay the bills, duck the creditors and figure out life in America.

The film has broad laugh appeal, and better yet, many wonderfully hip, small moments that offer snappy insights. One of these moments occurs when a pompous trainer at the call center, seeking to win a trip to America, coyly passes out bags of Doritos, hoping to inspire demoralized Indians to act more like Americans. By flipping the equation of cultural identities and spotlighting deficits, Karma Calling nails it: no matter where you live, the color of your skin or how much money you have (or don’t have), what the world really needs now is love, sweet love. An additional caveat? To thine own self, be true!

Review by Cheryl Reeves

Louise Bourgeois: The Spider, The Mistress and The Tangerine

Directed by Marion Cajori and Amei Wallach
Zeitgeist Films

“You have to be very aggressive to be a sculptor,” Louise Bourgeois announces at the start of The Spider, The Mistress and The Tangerine, a fascinating, but flawed, 99-minute documentary about the Parisian-born artist’s life and work.

Later, she confesses that aggression alone is insufficient and implies that trauma and loss are equally essential. “I make in my work unconscious connections. All of my work of the last fifty years has found inspiration in my childhood,” she says.

Indeed, as the now 97-year-old Bourgeois ruminates on the past, her pain is obvious, clearly visible to the viewer. Robert Storr of the Yale School of Art says it best: “She generates energy, psychological energy, and she sucks up psychological energy.”

This makes Bourgeois a complicated character. A wildly successful artist and sculptor—she was the first woman to have a major retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City; she represented the U.S. at the 1993 Venice Biennale; and she was the first artist to fill Turbine Hall at London’s Tate Modern—her work has been exhibited throughout the world, from Havana to Tokyo.

That her impetus to create comes from emotional turmoil wrought eighty-plus years ago, is surprising—and revealing. In fact, her father’s incessant womanizing, including a ten-year relationship with the family’s live-in nanny, continues to wound his disappointed daughter. In addition, a memory involving her father’s running commentary—in which he compared a beautiful tangerine to the daughter he found less than comely—still has the power to bring Bourgeois to tears.

As we voyeuristically watch this response, the elegant Bourgeois we see on screen is juxtaposed with the person she sees in her mind’s eye—a tiny being filled with insecurity, self-loathing, and doubt. That said, Bourgeois can also be imperious, and we simultaneously hear her sharp-tongued replies and demands. “You need to read between the lines when I talk,” she quips, her impatience evident.

And herein lies the film’s major flaw. In allowing viewers to read whatever they want into her statements, we’re left to wonder about an enormous number of things. How, for example, does Bourgeois feel about the feminist art movement and groups like the Guerrilla Girls that have made her an icon of female ascension? Her thoughts on women’s liberation and other 20th and 21st century movements would have allowed her on-screen persona to become more fully-dimensional. In addition, she says virtually nothing about either motherhood—she bore three sons—or marriage, leaving the viewer to wonder how she juggled the multiple demands on her time. A passing comment about her career taking off after the deaths of her father and spouse is not explored, leaving a crater where explication could have gone.

These flaws are substantial. Nonetheless, Bourgeois’ sculptures—whether constructed of cloth, glass, metal, stone or wood—are so majestic that spending time in their presence is enriching. The film ends with a panoramic look at her world-famous Maman pieces, enormous spiders Bourgeois says represent her mother. The magnificent giant arachnids combine playfulness with something terrifying, emblematic, perhaps, of the artist herself.

Review by Eleanor J. Bader

Coombs Farmily Farms Organic Maple Syrup

Perusing vegan cookbooks recently, I've noticed a tendency to recommend maple syrup as a sweetener. Yes, it's sucrose, but perhaps tree juice is ahead of refined cane sugar and the demon corn. And it also has flavor.

I cannot abide most artificial flavorings, and although some faux maple comes from the authentic spice fenugreek, there's nothing like the real thing. Coombs Family Farms' maple syrup is very real. The Coombs have been tapping trees for seven generations, some of the maples now three hundred years old and twenty feet in girth, and the tasty results culminate in a 100% pure organic maple syrup voted #1 by Gourmet magazine.

Of course it's a favored breakfast and dessert flavor, but I heard that some use it on grapefruit. I'll have to try it, perhaps in a salad dressing with grapefruit segments and baby spinach. Okay, and a few pecans, toasted with roughly ground black pepper. (I beg your pardon: I've been restricted to institutional meals recently, and am experiencing detailed fantasies regarding seasonings, fresh produce, and cheese that is not an unnatural glowing orange hue.) Granddaddy Coombs said, “Do right by the forest, and it will do right by you.” Sure does.

Review by Erica Mikkalo

Dragon Ladies: Asian American Feminists Breathe Fire

Edited by Sonia Shah

South End Press

Incredible. Insightful. Inspiring. These are the words I use to describe Dragon Ladies: Asian American Feminists Breathe Fire, the pivotal textbook on the growing politics of Asian American women. Essays embrace wide-ranging issues that include domestic violence, health, exploitation in the global trade, the role of spirituality, and punk-rock culture—all in the light of organizing and activism.

The anthology’s key concern is with the attitude of mainstream feminism whose individualistic and essentialist views are at odds with the affairs and experiences of Asian women. Sonia Shah, editor of Dragon Ladies, believes that a singular Asian American feminist movement is essential in representing Asian American women’s interests. The term ‘Asian’ is problematic in that it corresponds to a diaspora of ethnic identities, but Shah nevertheless manages to take into account the realities that females face from this walk of life.

As Juliana Pegues points out in “Strategies from the Field,” unlike white activists, Asian women have to deal with invisibility as well as “exotic” racial stereotypes and labels like “well-behaved,” “hard-working.” and “obedient.” The trouble is that Asian women’s perspectives are ignored when race is viewed in terms of black and white. When it comes to organizing resistance, “groups in many cases act as all-white groups internally, and white perspectives and standards are the norm.”

Purvi Shah’s article “Redefining the Home” is very engrossing, though the entire text is by no means an easy read. In fact, a lot of the material is tough, but if you’re passionate enough about this topic, you’ll fly through it. Shah discusses the belief that the personal is political when it comes to abuse within the home. Community elites seem to be the culprits in seeding the idea that culture and politics are separate issues—matters of the Home/Marriage for instance are cleverly disguised as tradition; these leaders are in essence threatened by organizations that challenge their norms. Rightly so, Shah proposes that “a home in which violence occurs is a public space” and a political problem that is affected by a range of factors like social, cultural and environmental.

Many prominent figures have come together to comprise this collection of interviews, personal essays, and eye-opening historical and current facts such as on the slave-like treatments of overseas Filipina workers. The joint mother-daughter article “Bringing Up Baby: Raising a ‘Third World’ Daughter in the ‘First World’” was a piece I found quite amusing and relevant to my own view of reality. Shamita Das Dasgupta and Sayantani DasGupta talk about balancing their different identities—Indian immigrant and American-born Indian—against Western culture. The idea of community is important to Indian culture and therefore for Indian women, it forms part of their identity; adopting the model of western feminism whose emphasis lies on the ‘individual’ would inevitably further alienate them; the issues concerning white feminists do not always apply to women of Asian origin.

Dragon Ladies: Asian American Feminists Breathe Fire in itself deconstructs the Asian woman stereotype conveying instead an image of the “virangana”—the ‘warrior woman’ thirsting to battle for change and victory. The contributors are good role models to rouse the next generation to self-reflect and take part in some form of action to empower the disadvantaged. From a spiritual standpoint, Cheng Imm Tan makes an important assertion: “When activism is fuelled by anger and hatred, we end up objectifying the ‘enemy’ just as we have been objectived.” What Tan then subtly suggests is that injustice can be met with compassion, and an intent to transform our aggressors rather than destroy them.

Certainly, this is a book with great ideas from women who not only breathe fire but speak with absolute conviction.

Review by Payal Patel

Arm the Spirit: A Woman’s Journey Underground and Back

By Diana Block

AK Press

Upon finishing the initial chapters of the memoir Arm the Spirit, I was caught off guard by how different the experiences of Diana Block were from my own. Written from her memories of participating in revolutionary movements and subsequently shifting to life underground, Block’s stories did not reflect the political landscape that I am familiar with today. Her descriptions of fleeing the FBI and assuming new identities like changes in clothing brought to mind Giaconda Belli’s writings about the Sandinistas in Nicaragua more so than contemporary American feminist writers. But as I dove farther into the book, Block slowly bridged the gap between her political experiences and my understanding of political activism.

Throughout the course of the book Block artfully maps out the shifting political landscape over the course of several decades, infusing political theory with her lived experience as a mother, wife, activist and woman. Her narrative is saturated with historical information, and her memories forced me to come to terms with the fact that perhaps I am not living in what I would like to imagine as the “land of the free.”

Beginning with her initial experiences with radical organizing as a young woman fresh out of college, and expanding slowly into her participation in the Weather Underground, Block allows the reader a window into the revolutionary struggles that are mythologized today. Block weaves in her experience as woman, including her critiques and personal experiences, in a way that makes the political real; this blurring between the personal and the political is precisely what makes Block’s memoir so powerful.

Throughout most of the book Block recalls her experiences living underground with several other political allies, a move she made after discovering a bug placed in her vehicle by the FBI. Her association with anti-colonial revolutionary groups made her a target and, as a result, her life and the life of her baby son were irrevocably changed. Hyper-aware of how vulnerable their visibility was, Block and her partner (who was also living underground) were required to play heteronormative house in order to ensure their invisibility, an emotionally burdensome task that Block conveys through poetry interspersed in her narrative.

Despite the difficulties that Block faced in life underground, her descriptions of the political prisoners suffering painful interrogations and long sentences with no access to family or loved ones, remind us of what she escaped through living underground. In fact, perhaps the initial shock I experienced when reading Arm the Spirit was not because Block’s narrative did not resonate with my life, but because it was difficult to accept that I was living in the same country that Block described. The thought of living in a nation that not only internally incarcerates people (men of color disproportionately so) at a ghastly rate, but one that is actively engaged in a war that serves neo-colonial purposes is a paralyzing realization.

Arm the Spirit serves to remind us of the political realities that we are faced with and of the dangers of apathy. Block’s narrative paints a picture of a world filled with suffering, but conversely one in which people are motivated to change the course of things. This narrative presents us with an empowering vision of the past that can hopefully resonate with the political and the personal landscape today.

Review by Lizzy Shramko

WonderToast Onesies

I originally noticed Ann Woltz's charming illustrations when looking for a birthday gift for a surrogate niece. Odetta is flourishing on the other side of the planet, but no matter where she's planted, I have no doubt she will bloom. And what better food for a flower than knowledge of global cuisine? Even though one may be mashing bananas through its fists, it's never too early to expand an infant's palette.

The items available at the WonderToast site provide assistance. Short- and long-sleeved one-hundred percent cotton onesies are available in bright cerulean, pale yellow, tangerine orange, aqua, and avocado green. Cartoon foodstuffs declaim “D is for Dim Sum,” “N is for Nigiri,” “T is for Tandoori,” “G is for Guacamole” and “F is for Falafel.” A coloring book and cocktail napkins are also available. Tots can wear the healthy reminder “V is for Vegetables” from the sale section. And who could resist chatty ebi? This is the place to pick up 100% of the daily recommended whimsicality value.

Review by Erica Mikkalo

Running from the Devil

By Jamie Freveletti

Harper Collins

Jamie Freveletti’s authorial debut, Running from the Devil, begins with the story of Emma Caldridge, a chemist and ultra-marathon runner who boards a plane for Bogota and ends up in a plane crash in the Colombian jungle. She is thrown from the wreckage during the crash, and thus spared from being taken hostage by a group of Colombian guerillas. What initially appears to be a fairly standard kidnapping-ransom situation soon reveals itself to be much more as the stories of the other passengers, the hostage takers, and the rescue teams come to light. Emma Caldridge finds herself in the middle of this terrifying and dangerous situation and, due to a recent research discovery that she has carried to Colombia with her, hidden in the form of a lipstick, she soon realizes she is the catalyst of the situation as well.

Running from the Devil is a very entertaining novel, and an impressive debut from this new author. She intertwines the storylines in a way that is easy to follow without losing any of the suspense that builds throughout the chapters during the transitions. The characters are fairly stereotypical and easily categorized as hero, heroine, or villain, but Freveletti does give the story’s primary heroine, Emma Caldridge, some unconventional qualities, such as her athletic prowess and her scientific knowledge. I found the attribution of good looks to the characters with the most cunning to be cliché, and the mentioning of Emma Caldridge’s “cat-shaped and vibrant green” eyes to be a bit excessive, but at the same time, the weapon hidden in the lipstick seems to suggest that strength and power can be found under the most seemingly superficial of appearances.

I would like to infer that the jungle in Running from the Devil is actually a metaphor for the working world, in today’s developed countries. In this setting, traditionally masculine traits, such as athleticism and a scientific mind can prove advantageous to women who excel in these areas, but at other times these are traits that make some men feel threatened. By the same token, some women embrace traits such as their sexuality and appearance in a way that helps them to be more successful and feel more empowered in the workplace. This allows women to use what is uniquely feminine about them—those qualities that set them apart from their male competition—to their advantage. But, as the lethal weapon hidden in a lipstick container in Freveletti’s novel shows us, sometimes a woman’s excessive focus on the superficial aspects of her person can pose the greatest threat.

Review by Rebecca McBride

Statistical Panic: Cultural Politics and the Poetics of Emotions

By Kathleen Woodward

Duke University Press

When I finished Statistical Panic I was left mulling over the ideas presented in the book for the next few days. A deeply theoretical exploration of the emotional landscape, Kathleen Woodward frames her book in American culture over the past fifty years, revealing the political, social, and cultural power that emotions have in our lives. She argues that emotions are largely undervalued in the social sciences, and that conveying emotional experiences can be a powerful form of communication, organizing and socializing.

An avid reader, Woodward allows personal narratives to help her navigate this exploration. Joan Didion, Toni Morrison, Virginia Woolf, and many other writers infuse Woodward’s theory with personal experience and literary sensibility that bring her text to life. Woodward also does an impeccable job of mapping out emotional outlets in the media from tabloids to politics and, in doing so, we begin to see why her incorporation of narratives allows for a more thorough conveyance of emotions in our media driven world.

Statistical Panic offers a thorough examination of the political aspects of emotions, something that contrasts with 24-hour news cycles, Twitter, and other media outlets that rely on shock and the quick turnover of emotional response. From shame to compassion, Woodward’s analysis bridges the emotional with the social and political, critically assessing emotions in a way validates their importance. Using Freud and Virginia Woolf, Woodward scrutinizes anger. She ties this to the social implications of experiencing anger as a woman and moves into a discussion on the uses of anger in feminist writings. Jean-Paul Sartre and Toni Morrison help guide Woodward’s understanding of shame and how it operates in a society wrought with sexism and racism. Part of what makes Statistical Panic such a powerful read is Woodward’s insistence on including “experts” like Sartre and Freud, while at the same time refusing to examine emotions in the vacuum of white male privilege. As a result, the scope of Woodward’s work is immense, offering the reader an enormous wealth of theory, social analysis and of course, literature.

When Woodward’s analysis moves to the political realm we begin to understand the tangible consequences of what she calls “statistical panic,” and how this has legislative and bureaucratic repercussions. First Woodward discusses compassion, both analyzing liberal guilt and compassionate conservatism (something the George W. Bush familiarized the nation with) as tools of organizing. Woodward also covers bureaucratic rage, a growing phenomenon due to the horrendous state of health care and finally, statistical panic, a feeling that Americans have been inundated with over the past fifty years, and even more so since September 11th.

Statistical Panic offers a critical exploration of emotions, how they are used for political gain, how they normatively reinforce social inequality, and how their subversion can combat the same inequalities. Woodward offers emotions as a source of political and social mobility, and her writing challenges us to be critical of the way statistical panic is used. She urges us complicate our understanding of our own emotional responses to everything from personal relationships to Twitter feeds.

Review by Lizzy Shramko

Miss Don't Touch Me

By Hubert & Kerascoet

NBM Publishing

Miss Don't Touch Me is the story of a girl, Blanche, who works with her sister, Agatha, as a live-in maid in Paris at the turn of the twentieth century. When Blanche witnesses her sister’s murder, her world is destroyed. People think Agatha committed suicide, and nobody will believe Blanche. She goes on a mission to avenge Agatha’s death, which takes her into a realm of prostitution, murder, and deceit.

It is both hard to believe and a relief that Agatha can manage to work at a brothel and not even have to take off her clothes. She is a virgin and does not want to “sell [her] virtue” (emphasis mine). So she presents her conundrum of sorts to the madam boss, who offers her the ideal position: a “virgin of steel” dominatrix who “whips, but [is] not to be touched.”

This setup, however, reinforces the virgin/whore duality in the novel. Blanche’s virginity is the main characteristic that differentiates her from every other woman from this point forward, something that even induces hatred toward her from some of the “whores.” One of them even cuts off Blanche’s long dark hair in her sleep, thickening the line that separates them. Blanche only gets along with the two other “special girls” in the brothel: Annette, who looks stereotypically angelical but harbors a dark secret, and the “madame/monsieur” Miss Josephine, her gender-bending confidante and the only other prostitute in the brothel with short hair. The authors have made it clear that Blanche does not belong on the “whore” side of the dichotomy through her asexuality, her appearance, and her very name (“blanche” means “white” in French).

Does this graphic novel stretch the virgin/whore dichotomy to create a new space? What’s for sure is that Blanche is gutsy, clever, cunning, and even cruel. She’s good-looking enough to be a prostitute but has chosen another route. She’s also goal-driven and steadfast. But, her character is not very believable. Not only is her character an amalgam of her aforementioned traits; there are also problems in the narrative that affect her credibility as a character.

The novel reads quickly, and it is enjoyable. But something feels amiss throughout. The authors at times skip from one crucial scene to the next. For example, when Blanche's sister Agatha is murdered, Blanche's life suddenly changes drastically. Blanche, naturally, cries over her dead sister following her murder—and then never does it again. We aren't even told why this is; is Blanche the kind to bury her feelings? She does not seem to be that at all. What’s more, she’s impulsive precisely because she can’t seem to control them. So what gives?

These missing feelings and thoughts—which are ostensibly the very engine behind the plot—make Blanche seem at times incongruous and even robotic. Something important is lacking. While she does think about Agatha and does all she can to avenge her death, Blanche lacks the corresponding depth. And while no other characters display notable depth either, one would think that at least the main protagonist of the novel would. Alas, this is not the case. When she sheds blood, she doesn’t even blink.

The illustrations are sketchy but defined; each character is visually unequivocal from the next. Nudity is ubiquitous, as is to be expected, as well as uninhibited, which shows in the casual lines traced by Kerascoet. There is much play between light and shadow, and although sometimes there are so many details in one panel that you must squint to find what you’re looking for, overall the drawings are sharp and witty.

In the end, this novel is a sassy and even controversial murder mystery that will entertain. It would be even more pleasing if it finished what it started.

Review by Natalia Real

The Dhamma Brothers: East Meets West in the Deep South

Directed by Jenny Phillips, Anne Marie Stein, and Andrew Kukura
Freedom Behind Bars Productions

What would happen if the American prison system was based on a treatment model versus a punitive model? The administrators at the W. E. Donaldson Correctional Facility wondered what would happen if they introduced the ancient Vipassana meditation techniques to prisoners. The Vipassana program is modeled after a program in India. The administrators hoped that the Vipassana meditation program would have a calming effect on the prison population. Donaldson Correctional Facility is a maximum security prison located in the countryside southwest of Birmingham, Alabama. The facility houses about 1,500 prisoners with sentences ranging from six months to life terms. The administrators decided to offer a Vipassana retreat for prisoners who wanted to participate in the program. Participants would be required sit in silent meditation for ten days. Vipassana is the Theravada Buddhism mediation technique known as Insight meditation. Vipassana requires the mediator focus the concentrated mind on suffering, impermanence, and lack of the enduring self. The program would allow the inmates to deal with their anger and to rise above the prison culture of revenge, hatred, and retaliation.

The program was met with skepticism from prison officials and local residents. Prison officials feared that some inmates would use the program as a way to get out of being in the prison block and they would not really devote themselves fully to the program. There was also resistance to teaching Buddhist meditation techniques to predominately Christian prison population.

I found the documentary to be very interesting and inclusive of the viewpoints of prison administrators, inmates, community members, and teachers. According to the directors of the film, The Dhamma Brothers seeks to tell the story of spiritual development and the formation of a bond of brotherhood among inmates in maximum security facility. The film focuses on a select group of inmates and their search for a sense of peace and redemption.

The inmates who participated in the mediation retreat did take the program seriously and were profoundly changed. The prisoners were able to take the time in the silent retreat to explore the sensations driving their behavior. Many of the participants were able to confront their emotions and learned to forgive themselves as well as other people in their lives. Inmates continued to meet for mediation groups after they graduated from the program, but they had to discontinue meetings due to opposition from the prison chaplain in 2002. Meditation groups were able to resume meetings in 2006 when the prison administration changed. Rick Smith, an inmate serving a life sentence and who participated in the program, summed up his feelings by saying, “I thought my biggest fear was growing old in prison. I realized my biggest fear was growing old and not knowing myself.”

Review by Rekesha Spellman

Camille Jones – Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Tommy Boy

You either love European electronica or you hate it. Growing up in a very Mid-American rave scene, I like to believe I’ve moved beyond partying in vacant co-opted strip malls and refined my tastes in all things club music. Camille Jones is a Danish pop singer and producer, but thankfully for her international audience, she sings her breathy tracks in English. Best known for her 2004 single “The Creeps,” Jones’ new release, Barking Up The Wrong Tree is an excellent example of what modern Euro electropop can be.

Maybe your definition of club is not mine. Just because I used to wear those embarrassing homemade bead bracelets doesn’t mean I haven’t grown up, nor does it mean I adopted tube top club culture. I don’t need to get all sweaty and writhe around on the dance floor, deafened by amps pumping DJ music. I’m perfectly content for the “club” to consist of uncomfortable couches, Moroccan-themed appetizers, overpriced unpronounceable drinks, and a tiny corner for the turntables. From the unobtrusive speakers, I expect to hear mellow, uncomplicated jams like Jones’.

“Difficult Guys” immediately became my repeat-one song of the week—press play, let it cycle through again and again. In addition to the booty-shakin’ beat, I kept wondering about her reference to liking “difficult guys, ordinary girls know they shouldn’t fall for.” Is Jones yet another single straight gal trying to hook up with her gay male pals? “They don’t like girls/I’m barking up the wrong tree.” I once kissed my gay best friend before he came out. Luckily, I learned that lesson young.

Jones’ songs are not overtly feminist, but they’re a pleasurable enough listen and make a solid addition to a soundtrack of understated female dance pop. “I Am (What You Want Me To Be)” is either a nod to conformity—in Danish, there’s a concept called janteloven that might be appropriate to employ here—or a big ironic middle finger to anyone with expectations. I suspect the former, but I retain high hopes for discovering rebel Danes.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Love and Other Natural Disasters

By Holly Shumas

5 Spot

This is your life, now what?

This is the question Eve has to answer when she finds out during Thanksgiving dinner that her husband, Jon, has been having a long distance emotional affair with another woman for the past year. Eve is devastated and demands that Jon move out that night. Jon complies and leaves their house. Eve’s feeling of betrayal and mistrust lead her to start hacking Jon’s email in order to find out more about the other woman, Laney. Eve reads all Jon’s correspondence with Laney, but she is unable to figure why Jon lied to her for a year. Eve questions Jon’s motives for the past year of their marriage. The affair causes Eve to reexamine her life as well. She truly wants to figure out what she wants out of life and from her marriage. Eve wonders about the “what-ifs” in her life (getting pregnant, marrying Jon) and what her life would be like if she had not married Jon.

Eve and Jon must also deal with the judgment of family and friends. Eve and John’s friends and family feel that if Jon did not have sex with Laney, then all should be fine with the marriage. After all, it was just an emotional affair. But Eve does not see it that way. Eve cannot understand why her husband would spend a year secretly communicating with another woman, confiding in her and sharing details of their marriage. Lil, Eve’s friend, sums it up when she says, “If he were having sex with the woman, you could chalk the whole thing up to novelty. It could be that he was so overcome by lust that he lost his mind for a while. You could even say he was so hot for her that he mistook it for love, and once they go thinking it’s love, well, everything’s fair game. But a year of emails phone calls—that’s about his mind and his heart, not just his dick. Call me crazy, but the dick’s preferable.”

Love and Other Natural Disasters is not typical chick lit. Holly Shumas’s perspective as a licensed family therapist allows her to get into the complications of fidelity and emotional intimacy in the novel. Eve learns more about herself during the time that she and Jon are part. Eventually, Eve and Jon learn to deal with their anger and to forgive each other. They both take responsibility for their actions and their relationship. Although Eve and Jon decide to take another chance on their marriage, their future is uncertain.

Although the actions of Eve and Jon were at times annoying and frustrating, I found Love and Other Natural Disasters to be an enjoyable book. I wanted to know what happened to the characters and how their problems were resolved.

Review by Rekesha Spellman

Gold Dust on His Shirt: The True Story of an Immigrant Mining Family

By Irene Howard

Between The Lines

When you think about migrant memoirs of North America, stories of moving north from Latin America often come to mind more than those detailing moves east and west. Flipping around that common assumption, Gold Dust on His Shirt tells the story of Irene Howard’s Swedish-Norwegian immigrant family’s tumultuous life in Canada at the turn of the twentieth century.

After the death of her first husband in Norway, Howard’s mother Ingeborg immigrated to Canada. She left her young daughter Inga behind with the child’s grandparents, promising to send for Inga as soon as she was settled. Instead, once she arrived in Prince Rupert (in current day British Colombia), she met and married a Swede, Nils Alfred in 1913. Only seven years after Norway had gained its independence from Sweden, the couple felt—and was—thousands of miles from the political controversies of their homeland. Six months later, Ingeborg gave birth to their first son, Swedish-Norwegian-Canadian Arthur Ingemar.

Over the years, Ingeborg and Alfred had several more children—Verner Erik, Nels Edwin, Irene—and were uprooted from their home several times. Alfred’s job working on the railroad demanded that the family relocate as work became available. As Alfred became involved with the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) and began mobilizing other immigrant workers, his job prospects were often limited due to his radical organizing.

Reading about language barriers, death by tuberculosis or mine collapse, police raids, and workers’ struggles against mining companies is a sobering experience. Living a reverse tale of sorts—an American in Denmark, mostly unable to speak Danish—I have a lot of empathy for the characters in this story. I also suspect that my own Norwegian background and my adopted Danish family made this a more interesting tale for me. I didn’t mind reading about characters named Sigurd Ullstreng, Olav Trygvasson, and Elling Erikssen Aarvig. For me, it was a bit comforting and homey—or “hygge,” as we say in Danish.

Howard’s history is fascinating, though her presentation is a bit dry. At times, the book reads like a genealogy scrapbook instead of a memoir, listing people and events in a factual if uninspiring way. For history buffs, this is no doubt enjoyable. I will admit to struggling at times to wade through the details of a time and place with which I have no real familiarity. Yet Howard’s story is valuable and often untold, and her objective storytelling—in which she often removes herself entirely from the narrative, even though she lived through the same events—is a refreshing departure from the self-centered account most memoirs provide. I suspect I will revisit this book for years to come, perhaps as my roots deepen and spread among the Nordic states and North America.

Howard was born in 1922 amidst her father’s career change from mining to fishing. That she has survived the last eighty-seven years—three less than my own still-living Norwegian grandmother—with her story intact, now fully documented and published, is no small feat. In Norwegian, we say, “gratulerer”—congratulations.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Free From Lies: Discovering Your True Needs

By Alice Miller

Translated by Andrew Jenkins

WW Norton

In her latest study, Free From Lies, famed psychologist Alice Miller examines the way child abuse shapes the psyche and the effect it can have on humanity. While the human brain has an incredible ability to normalize traumatic events, Miller argues that abuses suffered in childhood can never truly be repressed. It appears as though humanity is suffering from a collective amnesia regarding the wrongs we suffered in infancy. These wrongs, according to Miller, will manifest themselves later in life. We see evidence of this everywhere—in the form of domestic abuse, war, and genocide—all of which are prominent throughout our history. Those who have been able to break away from the cycle of abuse (a minority of about ten percent) are not without their problems, often suffering from serious health conditions later on in life.

Miller argues that humanity has, for the most part, come to define child abuse as "good parenting." The negative implications of this are two-fold: first, the child develops conflicting views regarding their parents, who act simultaneously as care-giver and as tyrant, and secondly, that the general, worldwide acceptance of child abuse will ensure it is passed down from generation to generation.

Miller examines horrific dictators like Adolph Hitler, revered icons like Marilyn Monroe, serial killers, and domestic abusers. While the common denominator among her subjects is, of course, child abuse, Miller looks at the way her subjects have been psychoanalyzed. She argues that history tends to analyze and treat severely traumatized and/or psychotic adults by looking at the symptoms of their pain rather than determining the causes of it. Miller stresses the importance of asking the right questions when dealing with these seemingly traumatized adults. This, according to Miller, is the only way to determine the root cause of abuse and determine the appropriate course of therapy.

Free from Lies is a logical, well-documented study that examines the ideologies that society has been reluctant to confront. Miller challenges others in her field head-on, wondering aloud why some child psychologists continue to deny and document the existence of child abuse. Not only is her fearless study convincing and engaging, the book is also extremely readable. Miller's approach to writing is refreshingly no-nonsense; she refrains from padding her observations with diatribes and academic-speak, ensuring her work can be read and enjoyed by a mainstream audience.

A compelling read, Free from Lies belongs on the bookshelves of everyone from the novice to the well-seasoned psychoanalyst. This important study has all the trimmings of a classic in the making and it is bound to invite and create debate and dissection for many years to come. The study is best appreciated through multiple reading as it will reveal new truths and insights each time. If we want to better our communities, it is imperative we understand our own inner-workings. Free from Lies will serve as an excellent aid by promoting open discussion and release from our own forgotten abuses.

Review by Cheryl Santa Maria

Margo Reymundo – My Heart’s Desire

I’m tossing my reviewer’s hat on the floor for this album because it’s hard to be objective about a record that I loved from the first time I played it. I tend to associate certain albums or songs with a memory or time that stands out in my mind, and I will always associate this one with summer 2009.

When I listen to Margo Reymundo’s music, there’s a lightness and carefree quality to it that makes the day seem just a little brighter even on an overcast day. It’s almost like taking a mental vacation and imagining yourself on a tropical beach drinking margaritas. But don't mistake that lightness for a lack of substance because Reymundo is no artistic slouch when it comes to her vocals and instrumentation.

Reymundo describes her sound as “Organica.” She describes Organica as “articulating a world constructed of unfettered vocals that rivals anything created with a synthesized sound.” Whether it’s the jazzy pop sound of the title track “My Heart’s Desire,” or her unique take on Sting’s “Wrapped Around Your Finger,” Reymundo has a unique appeal that transcends artistic and cultural boundaries.

My favorite song is “You Belong to Me,” a Euro-rhythmic version of the Carly Simon classic. Reymundo’s Mexican roots are apparent in her bilingual lyrics and the guitar instrumentation that is reminiscent of the Gipsy Kings. Reymundo isn’t afraid to tackle these classics and make them her own while somehow remaining true to the original. For example, hearing her sing “Ain’t No Sunshine” makes you forget that the song is about a man missing a woman. I don't think I’ve ever heard a woman cover that song before, but by the end of the song, I’m a convert.

Reymundo has an interesting life story. She is a classically trained singer who has been singing since the age of four. Her father, a cliff diver in Acapulco and her mother, a flamenco dancer, came to the states (Dallas, Texas) when Margo was one year old in search of a better life. The rest, as they say, is history.

Review by Gita Tewari

White Elephant Necklace / Raspberry Earrings / Pig Earrings

I am so thankful that my fabulously dainty ‘white elephant’ necklace does not live up to its name. Neither a possession of disproportionate upkeep costs, or a regift from a bad party game, the newest tiny charm on a chain comes courtesy of Cornyness, a delightful online jewelry shop.

Cornyness, run by a super nice gal named Danwei, offers a variety of handmade accessories to suit just about anyone with a taste for the quirky and cute. From earrings to phone charms to fuzzy pendants, every creation is handmade, “unique and made with love.” Never garish or bulky, most items are on the small side while still remaining fashionably noticeable.

For a veg head like myself, few accessories are cuter or more appropriate than dainty earrings of raspberries and pigs, respectively. Pigs—the fourth smartest animal, mind you—are some of my favorite four-legged friends, and what better way to proclaim my love of curly tails and oinks of joy? Have you ever given a pig a back scratch? You really oughta try it. You may have pandemic-related concerns, but maybe you could at least start with some dangly little charms to warm up to our pink pals.

Shop merchandise rotates regularly and the site even features a “sold out gallery” with some of the recent popular pieces that have since been shipped off to happy customers. If you’re really stuck on a particular sold out item, ask politely for a custom order.

If you fear online ordering—though that’s likely untrue if you’re reading our fabulous blog—you can also pick up Danwei’s creations in shops around the globe, from Boston to Marseille to Malmö.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Women's Movements in Twentieth-Century Taiwan

By Doris Chang

University of Illinois Press

Women's Movements in Twentieth-Century Taiwan by Doris Chang offers a compelling history of the recurrent feminist movement in Taiwan’s imperial and post-war eras. Though Chang’s primary concern is establishing a historical survey of Taiwanese feminism, the book contains an even more valuable—if largely incidental—subtext about the vulnerability of feminism against competing political and cultural movements.

We tend to think of sexism as the final barrier following a millennium of social progress; after centuries spent peeling away layers of barbarism and prejudice, it is a final lingering injustice. We also imagine that, following these other achievements, the realization of women’s rights should be natural and frictionless. Chang shows us that this is exactly wrong.

In fact, feminist thought ebbed and flowed in colonial Taiwan under the Japanese, then under the Chinese, and then again under the autonomous Taiwanese government, always emerging briefly before being shuttered away by competing political and cultural identities. In a time when women were married off as chattel or sold into brothels, advocates for women’s rights were again and again cast as selfish agitators sapping vitality from the political cause du jour.

This is not to say that the violent swaying of Taiwanese politics was in any way frivolous. Taiwan confronted the Sino-Japanese War, World War II, the Chinese civil war, and then decades of martial law under the Kuomintang. Each period sagged under the weight of ethnic and class inequalities, all of which retarded economic growth and democracy. Throughout this turmoil, feminist groups were repeatedly encouraged to ally with cultural movements, political parties, and class-based entities, and then were admonished to abandon their objectives to the greater goals of their partners.

This will sound familiar to progressives who feel themselves pushed to put women’s issues on a back burner. The implication was—and remains—that in times of distress, women should shelve their feminist ideals and divert their attentions to some larger cause. Of course, it is impossible to ask a woman to prioritize her gender identity over her national identity or her class sympathies. Yet Chang shows us that this very tension drowned the advancement of women’s rights at every moment of political reckoning.

The implications of these observations are unclear. Maybe the recent successes of Taiwan’s feminists could only have been realized in the absence of war, imperialism, and censorship. Perhaps it was the eventual triumph of democracy that paved the way for women’s freedom to marry, divorce, work, and study as they choose. But it begs the question: If the feminists of the 1920s had been able to find their voice, would it all have taken so long?

Review by Rebecca Zerzan

The Real Cost of Prisons Comix

Edited by Lois Ahrens

PM Press

As activists know all too well, crafting a political message and effectively mobilizing an audience is an elusive task. In The Real Cost Of Prisons, Lois Ahrens and her contributors beautifully stage a difficult dialogue—about mass incarceration, mandatory sentencing, and the “war on drugs”—with comics. Comics are an accessible, popular form of education, and most importantly, addictive, and hence become a subversive way to raise awareness. The Real Cost of Prisons Project has distributed 115,000 comics to the incarcerated, affected families, and social justice organizations free of charge. Comics are just one part of the organization’s mission to end mass incarceration; since Lois Ahrens founded organization in 2000 a coalition of artists, activists, and researchers has produced and distributed educational materials about the costs—material and affective—of the prison industrial complex and it’s devastating impact on family preservation, women’s reproductive rights, rural economies, and much more.

“What does it cost to lock up 2.3 million people each day in the world’s biggest prison system?” ask Ruth Wilson Gilmore and Craig Gilmore in the introduction to The Real Cost Of Prisons. In addition to the staggering economic costs (the U.S. spends $60 billion per year on prisons) that could otherwise be directed at health care, public education, and other social services, the human costs are immeasurable. In the comic “Prisoners of a Hard Life: Women and Their Children,” illustrated by Susan Willmarth, we learn about the cost of incarceration for women and their children:

*One out of every 109 women in American is incarcerated, on parole, or on probation.

*Half of all women in prison are incarcerated more than 100 miles from their families.

*Seven million children have a parent in prison, on probation, or on parole.

*Seventy-nine percent of all women in New York State’s prisons are Black or Hispanic.

The Real Cost Of Prisons documents the vital efforts of the movement to end mass incarceration, and is an exceptional resource for all activists seeking creative ways to build and sustain a political movement.

Review by Jeanne Vaccaro

Crazy Enough - Portland Center Stage: Portland, Oregon (6/12/09)

Written and performed by Storm Large

Directed by Chris Coleman

Her mother tried to poison her with turquoise "chicken noodle" soup, she tried to become a "dick whisperer" at age 12, and she was addicted to heroin by age 21. Is Storm Large "Crazy Enough?"

Decide for yourself before this show ends August 16, or spend the rest of the summer regretting that you missed her. Large, who starred on CBS's Rockstar: Supernova in 2006 and whose band Storm and the Balls had a Top 10 hit with "Ladylike" that same year, lets everything hang out in this one-woman show—including her boobs, which she refers to as a "$4,000 growth spurt."

She is agonizingly honest about life with a mentally ill mother and a geographically and emotionally distant father; about trying to find love through nasty sex with much older men; about what it felt like to get addicted to heroin and go through withdrawal on her bathroom floor—think feeling like your skin is being scraped by a cheese grater as you watch her perform. All the while growing up, she's also terrified of becoming "crazy" like her mom.

But in the end, her message is one of enormous strength—one that I believe is reaffirming for girls and women of all ages. She's six feet tall, sexually omnivorous (Large's preference to the noun "bisexual"), and yes, (Susan) Storm Large is her real name! If you don't like it, too fucking bad for you.

Despite having a voice like gorgeous dynamite, Large was told by mostly male record talent scouts that she was "too aggressive," "too old" at age 27, but did she mind giving them a blow job while she was there?

This incredible performance will make you fucking pissed off, might very well make you cry, and will definitely make you roar with laughter—who else can pull off singing a song about an eight-mile-wide vagina? If you don't live close to Portland, Oregon, you should definitely check out the play's soundtrack. Just don't start humming it at work.

Review by M.L. Madison

Photo by Owen Carey via Flickr

Imperia Necklace

Have you ever heard a peacock scream? While I was visiting Kolkata's Marble Palace during last summer's monsoon, I happened across the mansion's hodgepodge collection of animals, which I am hesitant to call a "zoo" despite that being what it is. My friends and I were buying time since our trek across town to the museum was through knee-deep water, and we wanted the level to fall a bit before heading back on to the street. After being licked by a barking deer, I was feeling giddy when I saw the male peacock dancing around its cage; that is, until he let out a mating cry.

I'm telling you it was the most godawful noise I have ever heard. It was loud, piercing, and made me wince in pain whist throwing my hands to the sides of my head to protect my precious eardrums from harm. It's amazing, really, that such a majestic and beautiful creature can emit such an abrasive and foul sound. (Bad pun intended!) Oh, if something could capture the beauty without that horrific wail...

Stacy Christopher's Imperia Necklace embodies all that is elegant about the regal bird without the traits that are not. The teardrop cabochon pendant hangs from an 18" gold-colored brass chain, which lands the painted bird in the middle of one's chest. Its vintage style makes the piece versatile for wear; it can be a nice accent piece for a more formal occasion, but works well with everyday outfits too.

Named after a coastal city in Italy that was settled in the thirteenth century, the Imperia Necklace gives the impression of strolling through the seaside town, which is on but slightly removed from the country's tourist circuit. Imperia (the city) is known for its food--though what Italian city isn't? Visitors can indulge in pastas with homegrown olives and, therefore, fresh olive oil before taking a stroll on the beach. If you come across any peacocks while you're walking, go the other way. The painted one around your neck should suit you just fine.

Review by Mandy Van Deven

Sylvia Bennett – Songs from the Heart

Out of Sight Music, Inc.

I’ve listened to Songs From The Heart a number of times now since first receiving it in the mail. Each time I listen, I find myself immediately pulled into the lyrics and Bennett’s smooth and jazzy interpretations of songs like “Someone to Watch Over me” and “As Time Goes By.”When I was a lot younger, I used to think of vocalists like Bennett as creating music for “older” people, but as the years go by, I find myself more and more drawn to jazz in its myriad forms—is there a connection here?

Years ago, my voice teacher assigned the song “My Funny Valentine” to me and I remember her telling me that I hadn’t lived enough to really sing the song with the emotional conviction that was needed. “You’ll understand when you’re a bit older and you’ve really been in love,” she reassured me. I remember feeling annoyed at the time that she had assigned a song that was outside my emotional range. When I heard Bennett’s interpretation of “My Funny Valentine” on this album I finally got it. “That’s what she was talking about all those years ago,” I thought to myself.

Every time I hear Bennett sing the lyrics to “Someone to Watch Over Me,” I can’t help wondering if that song would have been written today. The idea of needing someone to watch over me sounds both comforting and somewhat creepy to me, but Bennett manages to make each of these classics her own, which is no small feat. My favorite song on Songs From The Heart is “As Time Goes By.” As I listen to Bennett, I can almost imagine myself in Casablanca with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman listening to Sam the piano guy tickling the ivories.

Review by Gita Tewari

Personal Politics: An Interview with Rebecca Walker

By Ellen Papazian

The Feminism 101 dictum “the personal is political” has been writ large across third wave feminist founder Rebecca Walker’s work since she published her first book, the 1995 anthology To Be Real: Telling the Truth and Changing the Face of Feminism—her generation’s response to second wave feminism.

Since then, she has written memoirs and edited anthologies that explore her own biracial identity (Black, White, and Jewish: Autobiography of a Shifting Self), raising a son (What Makes a Man: 22 Writers Imagine the Future), and first-time motherhood (Baby Love: Choosing Motherhood After a Lifetime of Ambivalence).

Her latest book—the anthology One Big Happy Family: 18 Writers Talk About Polyamory, Open Adoption, Mixed Marriage, Househusbandry,Single Motherhood, and Other Realities of Truly Modern Love—is a re-envisioning of the American nuclear family, partly inspired by Walker’s memories of her own “fragmented” family (her parents are feminist icon Alice Walker and civil rights lawyer Mel Leventhal). The collection features essays by Dan Savage, Dawn Friedman, Min Jin Lee, and asha bandele, among others.

Walker’s recent work has ignited some debate, including discussions about whether there’s a difference between loving an adopted child and a biological one (Walker says there is) and whether a mother-daughter estrangement as dramatic as the one that played out between Walker and her mother signals a greater generational “rift” between the second and third wave feminist movements.

Feminist Review recently interviewed Walker about her new book on families off the “hetero-normative grid," the power of disclosure in her work, and why she never anticipates controversy.

You’ve written two memoirs and edited three anthologies, including your latest, One Big Happy Family. How are these processes different for you?

A collection is more like a prism than a magnifying glass. Anthologies are more democratic—everyone has their say. The form is radical in that it implicitly acknowledges many voices; the truth of multiplicity is built into its DNA.

In terms of process, I work with other writers the way I try to work with myself—to get to the heart of the story and support its birth. I try not to get too focused on craft. If I meet someone who can’t write a paragraph, but has a true, moving story, I’m there. I encourage that inside voice and coax it out. I do that for myself, and yes, I would say it is a joy, an honor even, to do that for others.

Who is the audience for One Big Happy Family?

One Big Happy Family is for you, your neighbors, the Supreme Court, and your uncle Robert. It’s for anyone doing family differently than the way it’s done on TV or at their grandmother’s house. It’s for people who are making up their version of family as they go along, following love and their own longing for connection. One Big Happy Family is for those who refuse to let love be defined by anything other than the truth of its existence. It’s a kind of Dr. Spock for the millions of people living life off the nuclear, hetero-normative grid.

You open the anthology with a piece by Jenny Block about her polyamorous marriage. Why that particular piece as the opener?

Polyamory has a PR problem—people think those who love more than one person at a time are part of a seamy scene, nymphomaniacs, or delusional, at best. Jenny Block, who wrote the essay, is so not any of those things. It’s one of my favorite pieces in the book because she is so honest and accessible, brave and tender. The essay does a great job smashing the stereotype, and I like that. Putting it front and center pushed the envelope.

You wrote in Newsweek about how President Obama has changed our concept of manhood. Do you feel he and Michelle Obama will shift national discourse on family values?

Modeling partnership between mutually adoring and respectful equals certainly feels like a step in the right direction. I’m encouraged by their apparent openness to families of all kinds, and by their insistence on putting the health and well-being of their children first. It seems so simple, and yet, so many do not do the work.

You’ve written memoirs that have raised the curtain on your childhood and, with Baby Love, your estrangement from your mother. Many writers choose to keep their private lives to themselves, while others make the so-called private, public. Why have you chosen disclosure for your work, and how do you feel it has served you as a writer and activist?

As a child of feminism, I think the real question would be why wouldn’t I choose disclosure? Feminism 101 teaches that the personal is always political—this does not stop being true because the personal may negatively impact the matriarchy.

My work has given voice and agency to many. Like the feminist writers whose work I’ve devoured for decades, I prefer to live my own life, and tell my own story, than have it presumed, projected, or in any other way defined by those who would benefit from my silence. I think my readers resonate with that and are encouraged and emboldened to do the same in their own lives. In this area, you could say I’m classically second wave.

You’re a feminist leader who produces work that sends ripples through some feminist communities. To Be Real shifted the focus of second wave feminists to include young women’s realities. Your statements about the difference between loving a biological child and an adopted child caused a bit of controversy, as did your writing about your estrangement from your mother. In a sense, your personal choices, beliefs, and experiences have become political for many. What do you think of your ability to provoke such a response—and is this a burden, a blessing, or neither?

It’s fascinating, surprising, frustrating, and revelatory. What’s odd is that I never anticipate controversy. I suppose that is to say that my point of view is not calculated in any way. I am nothing if not brutally honest, emotionally raw, and deeply hopeful. I tend to anticipate the best in people, to expect them to—no matter how challenging to their ego or ideas about who they are—rise to the occasion of simple listening and acknowledgment of different viewpoints. This expectation is a blessing, certainly. It sets a bar to which I, myself, aspire.

A burden? Not for me.

Where Underpants Come From: From Checkout to Cotton Field: Travels Through the New China and Into the New Global Economy

By Joe Bennett

Overlook Press

It’s absolutely astonishing to realize how much junk people in North America consume only to throw away. Most of it is from China. When I started to read Where Underpants Come From, I picked up various objects in my office—from the mechanical pencil I write with to my iPod—and I discovered that yes, everything had been made in China. Author Joe Bennett, who is based in New Zealand, does a fantastic job of describing his experience of traveling to that far off land to discover the process of how his cheap underpants were manufactured. The idea is absurd, but he runs with it anyway.

China is the cheapest bidder on manufacturing most of the convenient items we consume at an exhausting rate. It comes as no surprise that the giant nation is, as a result, driving its peasant labor force for meager wages and polluting the air, land, and water at an even faster rate. Statistics aren’t necessary; just take a look at the dirty grey-brown clouds of smog that hover over Chinese cities. 

Bennett does more than observe the grainy air; he physically visits various places in China to see for himself what the industrial giant has created in order to keep the Western materialist appetite satisfied. It isn’t pretty, but his encounters are often humorous. As other journalists (such as Anderson Cooper, in the Planet in Peril series) have pointed out, China’s bid to create the cheapest industrial production of everything from underpants to machinery is creating environmental destruction on an astronomical level. 

Chinese citizens are also just as disposable. When I was a little girl (in Canada) during Mao’s time, I became interested in not only American Vietnam War veterans, but in the Vietnamese and Chinese soldiers who—as the National Geographic displayed them—were left rotting in dilapidated vet hospitals. Bennett’s descriptions of countless health and safety hazards and substandard machinery show that while Mao may have died in 1976, the view that Chinese workers are easily replaceable has not. 

Bennett’s account gets past the stats and much-repeated talk of China as an economic giant. He offers readers glimpses into people’s lives. He goes where the Chinese won’t—places like Urumqi south, where Muslim populations exist—and tries to communicate with the locals. His angle lends compassion and a sincere urge to understand all sides. He admits to his own prejudices against China and its peoples before he actually arrives and notes that people are people everywhere.

As I sit here and type my review on my ‘Made In China’ laptop, the darkness is lit by my ‘Made In China’ lamp, and I drink Chrysanthemum tea (grown and harvested in China) from my ‘Made in China’ glass, I hope that people will take the time to read Bennett’s work. Despite the pollution and slack labor laws and high rate of labor deaths, Bennett finds the people he encounters to be generally happy. Yes, they are driven, but they take time to live for the sake of living and family takes care of family. We Westerners monetarily benefit from the fruits of their hard work, but materialism has only left us miserably wealthy, fat, and insecure. 

Review by Nicolette Westfall

Spell Albuquerque: Memoir of a “Difficult” Student

By Tennessee Reed

AK Press

I found Tennessee Reed’s memoir of her educational and professional life to be inspiring and informative. In her memoir, Reed shows the difficulties that learning and physically disabled students encounter in the public and private educational system, and provides suggestions about what can be done to combat racism, institutional authority, and insensitivity.

Between the age of eighteen months and two years of age, Reed, the daughter of writer/choreographer Carla Blank and novelist Ishmael Reed, was diagnosed with a speech and language-based communication disorder, aphasia. Similar to a condition that stroke and head trauma victims experience, this condition prevented Reed from developing normal speech patterns. In addition to aphasia, Reed had difficulty with reading comprehension, three dimensional perception, and tasks that require small muscle control and hand eye coordination; she was also diagnosed with a math disability and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) in 1998.

Despite having several learning and physical disabilities, Reed was able to navigate through the school system from pre-school through graduate school. In Spell Albuquerque: Memoir of a “Difficult” Student, she writes about her experiences as a student, a published writer, and a candidate for the Oakland, California School Board.

Reed encountered difficulty throughout her educational experience, due to insensitive administrators and inexperienced instructors. She gives several examples of being humiliated and ridiculed by school principals, classroom teachers, and other students when she did not perform according to their expectations. As a child, Reed was powerless against the inconsistent behavior and teaching methods of her instructors. But as a teenager and as an adult, she began to question and challenge her teachers and professors. When she encountered racism in addition to discrimination based on her disabilities, she fought back against assumptions that others made about her.

Despite her difficulties with the traditional educational system, Reed became a success. A talented writer, she earned a Master of Fine Arts degree from Mills College; worked as a tutor in the AmeriCorps program between undergraduate and graduate school; and has published five books.

In 2008, she decided to run for a campaign for a seat on the Oakland School Board. The focus of Reed’s campaign was to inform voters of the issues that affected minority, poor, and learning- disabled students. Specifically, she focused on standardized tests, textbooks and curriculum, overcrowded classrooms, school closures, the need for physical education and the arts, creativity, charter schools, and teacher credentials. Although Reed did not win the seat, she received ten percent of the vote and was able to put issues affecting minority, poor, and disabled students on the table.

Reed demonstrates in her memoir that at times minority, poor, disabled, and gay/lesbian/bisexual/transsexual students may have to work harder to succeed in society and she provides a great example of what can be accomplished when we focus on students’ strengths.

Review by Rekesha Spellman

On Joanna Russ

Edited by Farrah Mendlesohn

Wesleyan University Press

Last summer, in an effort to learn more about female writers of speculative fiction (SF), I read Charlotte Spivack’s Merlin’s Daughters. While the majority of the book was a rather boring summary of what the aforementioned "daughters" had written, the introduction posited that all speculative fiction has subversive possibilities. After all, the author is imagining a new world and probably one structured by a new social order, right? Not necessarily.

In Farrah Mendlesohn’s On Joanna Russ, the reader finds that in mid-century American SF, only some ideas are subject to question, and that pioneers like Russ were marginalized, or ignored. In the first part of the book, “Criticism and Community,” contributors discuss the relationship between Russ and the SF community, including readers, prominent editors and other writers, as well as her place as an academic. For example, as Russ moves toward a more feminist perspective, she writes to a popular publication about the lack of female characters in most SF novels.

The responses were many and varied, but a prominent colleague took it on himself to 'set her straight'. It was not sexism that kept female characters out of SF, he said; it was the “cerebral plots” that did not necessitate a “love interest.” On Joanna Russ paints the picture of a female writer forced by workplace bottom-pinching and literary marginalization to explain feminism over and over again to both men and women. Responding to Kate Wilhelm, who said she champions equal rights but is not a feminist, Russ noted, “It’s funny, really; having disclaimed feminism, you go on to define it.”

The second part of the book focuses on Russ’ fiction. Contributors here discuss how Russ’ work shows a synthesis of second and third wave feminisms, the necessity of violence for Russ’ protagonists, and the recurrent themes of lesbianism and homosocial bonds. This discussion is interwoven with the relationship of her writing to the work of Hélène Cixous, Mina Loy, Mikhail Bakhtin, and others. In her fiction, Russ defines, expands, and subverts the “feminine utopia” and visions of women as “good”, i.e., not violent or sexual.

I came away from On Joanna Russ with a huge to read list, including titles by Russ and important works by feminist writers. This book is a must-read for a student of SF, female writers and academics, or any feminist who has forgotten how close the isolation of the twentieth century is at our heels. I was struck by how far we have come from bottom-pinching in the academy, but also how much still has to be done to create a culture where writing by and about women flourishes. Russ herself says in "How to Suppress Women’s Writing":

When the memory of one’s predecessors is buried, the assumption persists that there were none, and each generation of women believes itself to be faced with the burden of doing everything for the first time… without models, it’s hard to work; without a context, difficult to evaluate; without peers, nearly impossible to speak.

Sadly, according to contributor Graham Sleight, as of 2008, says many of her books are out of print, forcing contemporary readers to track her down in used books stores and libraries. It’s well worth the hunt: her work was crucial to the shape of contemporary SF.

Review by H. V. Cramond

Skunk Girl

By Sheba Karim

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Skunk Girl is Sheba Karim’s first novel. It is told from the point of view of 16-year-old Nina Khan, self-described as “a Pakistani Muslim girl” and from a small white town in upstate New York. Although published in 2009, the story is set in approximately 1993.

In a fast-paced, entertaining read, Nina narrates her life and drama as the only Pakistani and Muslim girl in her high school. She deals with worries about school and boys, as well body hair and strict parents. Karim keeps a light-hearted tone throughout the novel, balancing Nina’s self-deprecation with her humorous critique of others around her.

When a male friend asks Nina what her father would do if he ran outside and started kissing her in front of him, one of her best friends says, “Nina’s dad would kill her if you did that.”

“He wouldn’t kill me,” she responds.

In the narration, Nina explains:

“I must defend my father. He may be conservative, but he’s no murderer like those nutty Islamic fanatics they show on TV movies who marry unsuspecting white women, then kidnap their daughters and take them to some unnamed Middle Eastern country. He wouldn’t kill me, just yell and maybe cry and only ever let me out of the house for school.”

Karim takes on stereotypes in a less heavy-handed manner than, say, Randa Abdel-Fattah of Does My Head Look Big in This? and Ten Things I Hate About Me. She uses humor to poke fun at, and thus challenge, popular portrayals of Muslim men.

At the same time, Karim doesn’t go the other route of painting Nina’s parents as permissive and progressive to challenge the image of Muslim parents as strict and conservative. Nina’s parents are in many ways much more conservative than Amal’s parents in Does My Head Look Big in This?. When Nina goes to the movies with her female friends and their boyfriends, she can’t let her father see that there are boys in the group, lest he “kill” her as discussed above. Neither Nina nor her sister has ever been to a school dance, and her parents get “worked up about the lack of morality in Western culture.” When they see one of Nina’s best friends having dinner with a boy, they grow concerned that Nina will want to have a boyfriend too, and they try to limit the amount of time Nina spends with her best friends, so she doesn’t become influenced to do “things that are wrong for you,” in the words of her mother.

Nina finds it hard to be the only girl in her school with such restrictions. She feels left out when classmate Serena holds a big party and she doesn’t even get an invitation, because, as Serena tells her, “you’re not allowed to go to parties and I don’t want to waste any [invitations].” But even while Nina bemoans her plight as the only high schooler at home on a Friday night, she never takes herself too seriously, which is refreshing.

Spending her Friday nights at home watching crime shows with her parents, Nina decides, “Maybe there are only two types of people who spend their Friday nights in high school at home—Pakistani Muslim girls and future serial killers. Though I suppose Indian and maybe even some Asian parents might be as strict with their kids.” She remembers hearing that there’s an Indian girl in the middle school: “Maybe I should become friends with her. I bet we’d be allowed to spend our Friday nights together, memorizing vocabulary words or something.”

In some ways, Nina’s parents are archetypes of strict, conservative parents. When Nina asks her father what would be so wrong with having friends who are boys, he replies, “If you lose sight of what is wrong and right, and start behaving like Americans, you’ll end up on the streets, on drugs, and a prostitute.” Nina comments on her father’s warning: “It is so preposterous that you can’t even argue with it.”

Despite their strictness, Nina’s parents fail to become stereotypes. Karim’s description of Nina’s father—who tells jokes, even though they’re not always funny, loves and sings along with qawwali music, and tries to have heart-to-hearts with his daughter—make him into a multidimensional, believable character. Nina’s mother, too, breaks out of the stereotype she could otherwise become. When Nina wails to her mother about the plight of being a “hairy Pakistani Muslim girl,” her mother says, “It’s not such a big deal,” and hands her a box of bleach, telling her stories of mixing her own ammonia and hydrogen peroxide concoction when she was in college in Pakistan.

It makes sense that Karim would write Nina’s parents as believable, multidimensional characters since her whole cast of characters is complex and engaging. Some characters, who start out as archetypes, such as Nina’s sister, Sonia, the “nerd girl,” and classmate Serena, popular mean girl, develop through the novel as Nina gets to know them better.

While Nina’s parents are strict about certain rules, they are less conservative about other issues. Nina explains that her mother is the only one who prays regularly, and that the family only ever prays together to keep up appearances whenever her mother’s sister, the very Pakistani, very Muslim Nasreen Khan, comes to visit.

Karim depicts Muslims more conservative than Nina’s parents. Nina tells the story of the Qur’an teacher she had when she was young, Brother Hassan. When he sees her mother’s favorite painting hanging on the wall, of two Mexican women holding bright flowers, he instructs Nina to tell her mother to take it down: “It is haram to depict human figures,” he tells her. Instead, it is her teacher who Nina never sees again. She learns to read Qur’an instead from her mother, “under the watchful eyes of the Mexican women.”

With stories like this, Karim establishes a diversity of belief amongst Muslims. Nina’s mother, presented as the most religious member of her family, has a different understanding of Islam than Nina’s Qur’an teacher and is willing to stand up for it. That Nina’s mother does not discard the painting per Brother Hassan’s advice is not presented as a failure on her part to live by the rules of Islam, but as a way Nina’s mother rejects a more conservative interpretation of Islam and affirms her own values.

Nina, who admits to be less religious than her mother, does not live up to the archetype of a conservative Muslim girl either. Enamored by her crush, Asher Richelli, she doesn’t hold the same resistance to him that very consciously religious Amal of Does My Heah Look Big in This? had for her crush. When Nina and her sister Sonia are left alone for a few days, when their parents fly to Pakistan early, Nina takes the opportunity to attend her first high school party, has her first beer, and proceeds to get drunk. Later, she asks her sister what makes a good Muslim.

Sonia replies:

“Whose definition are you applying to that? In every religion people pick and choose what they want to follow. Look at Ma and Dad’s own friends—a few of the aunties cover their hair, and a few of the aunties drink, some fast during during Ramadan, some don’t. You can’t spend your life worrying about what other people will think. If you live decently and help others, is Allah going to condemn you simply because you had a beer? I don’t think so, but others might. In the end, you have to do what you believe is right.”

Sonia’s advice of self-determination seems to the message of the book. She tells her sister, “When it comes to religion and orthodoxy and culture and self-actualization, there is no magic box [with] easy answers.” And indeed, Nina’s dilemma of what to do about her crush, Asher, is not presented as a test from God of resisting temptation, but as a religious, cultural, and family issue with which she must struggle—and not necessarily find any easy option. While Nina’s parents are quick to deplore what they see as immorality around them (and Nina’s potential fall to a drug-addicted prostitute), Nina does not judge. When best friend Bridget announces her decision to have sex with her boyfriend, Nina thinks about how surreal the idea is, and asks Bridget sincerely, “How are you feeling about it?”

But religious and familial drama is not the only issue facing Nina. Small New York town Deer Hook lacks in racial diversity, which worsens Nina’s feeling of isolation. Nina recalls an incident from her childhood. In the car, she asks her sister, “When you take over the world, can you make me white?” Her mother, driving, slams on the brakes and asks, “Why would you want that?” Nina narrates, “Because it sucks being one of the only brown kids in school, I thought. But I didn’t say this because even then I knew my mother wouldn’t understand.”

Nina describes the self-segregation by race during lunch: the few black and Latino students sit on one side of the lawn, while Nina, an Asian freshman, and couple other minorities sit on the “white side.” Even though she sits with the white students and her best friends are white, Nina can’t completely fit in, and sometimes wishes to be white.

Nina feels some affinity to Bridget’s boyfriend, Anthony, who is black and from the island of Grenada—one of the few non-white students at Deer Hook besides Nina. “Do you ever wish you were white?” she asks him, explaining that she would take the chance to live her life again as a “cute blonde” in a heartbeat. He suggests perhaps being white wouldn’t make her happier, considering everything she’d have to sacrifice for it: her family, her food, her pride. There are no incidents of overt racism that Nina and Anthony face, but Karim shows the difficulty of being one of the few non-white students in the school, especially when all their friends are white.

Nina challenges her parents’ racism when they find out Bridget is not just dating—horror!—but dating “a black boy,” as well as the preference for light skin within their Pakistani circles. These are probably the most overt discussions of racism in the book.

One of Nina’s biggest concerns is not just being a “Pakistani Muslim girl,” but being a “hairy Pakistani Muslim girl.” She explains that one day, “I fell asleep a human, and woke up a gorilla.” It is worse when she realizes that she has a stripe of dark hair down her neck to the center of her back. Describing her dilemma as being a “skunk girl,” from which the novel derives its title, Nina feels like a freak.

She stands out in other ways. In hot weather, Nina sweats in jeans while others wear shorts. She wears jeans because that’s what Pakistani Muslim girls do, she says. But I wonder why she can’t wear a long skirt or looser, lighter pants at least.

Skunk Girl paints a picture of a believable Muslim teenager–not necessarily one the Counsel on American-Islamic Relations would send out to represent Muslim youth, but a girl with struggles and desires beyond fulfilling her mother’s image of the perfect Pakistani Muslim girl. It was refreshing that neither the title nor cover art revolved around Nina’s Muslim-ness. Books with a Muslim protagonist have been known to feature hijab-less characters in hijab to emphasize their faith. Not so for Skunk Girl. The book jacket shows a white stripe of fur against black, reflecting the book’s title.

Karim’s first novel is a fast and enjoyable read. I read it in one sitting. At 231 pages, in a comfortable font size and spacing, the book goes quickly. Karim maintains the pace with short chapters, an engaging plot, and an entertaining and likable narrator.

Nina’s story is compelling, touching on issues many young people face, whether or not they are Pakistani Muslim girls. But even when she takes on serious issues, Karim keeps the novel optimistic and funny. The message, in the end, is one of self-acceptance. Skunk Girl does not strive to be great literature. It makes a breezy, but thoughtful, summer read. I look forward to seeing what else Karim will bring to young adult fiction.

Review by Melinda

Cross-posted from Muslimah Media Watch

Where Did I Leave My Glasses?: The What, When, and Why of Normal Memory Loss

By Martha Weinman Lear

Wellness Central

I knew