Book Review: Lessons in Magic and Disaster

  By Charlie Jane Anders

• Pub Date: 2025

• Genre: LGTBQ fiction  

• Where I bought this book: The Bookmatters Bookstore, Milford, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: I like her writing style

• Bookmark used: The Bookmatters Bookstore

********       

    The further one gets into this book, the better it gets.

     It's a delightful confluence of fiction, non-fiction, and faux fiction.   

    It revolves around Jamie, the child of a pair of lesbian activists, who is struggling with multiple people in her life. There's her mother, Serena, who has become a hermit and is mourning Mae, her wife, who died more than a decade ago. Jamie tries to reconnect with Serena by teaching her magic.

    But Jamie has other issues. Her own relationship with her partner, Ro, is in trouble, and Jamie doesn't know how to fix it. That's because she also is struggling to finish her dissertation while teaching classes to students who just don't get her fascination with 18th Century women writers. Those students include Gavin Michener, "who looks like the villain of every eighties teen comedy (wavy dishwater hair, beady ice-blue eyes, letterbox chin)," who deliberately antagonizes her with his conservative views on women, literature, and LGTBQ people.

    But wait, there's more. Jamie's dissertation is on a series of early feminist writers and their books -- some real, some Anders admits she just made up. Jamie attempts to make some sense of their novels and relationships with the events of the late Restoration and early Georgian periods in England. 

    There's also a buried story in there about Jamie's sexual identity, which comes out over the span of the novel.

    Yes, it's complicated, but Anders can weave a tale like no other. She's a stylish and witty writer unafraid to look peculiarly at her own people and their foibles.  

    For instance, as Jamie teaches her mother magic, mom insists on bringing in other women, and forming a union of witches. In another effort to get her life together, Jamie joins a book club, but it's full of women with cars "that have Planned Parenthood stickers and messy backseats." Their discussions veer quickly away from books and into mindfulness techniques. 

    There's a lot to take in with this book, but it gets there in the end. It's got a somewhat snarky tone, but Anders gets away with it because she's writing about a people she is a part of, and she wants to show off their charm and pitfalls.

Book Review: The Gales of November

    By John U. Bacon

• Pub Date: 2025

• Genre: Non-fiction, history 

• Where I bought this book: The Joseph Beth Bookstore, through author speech at The Mercantile Library 

• Why I bought this book: The wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald has fascinated me for 50 years now, and, of course, the song

• Bookmark used: Stop Book Bans, the ACLU

**********

 

   Part history, part geography, part maritime lore, part biography, and part legend that lives on, Bacon's book, subtitled "The Untold Story of the Edmund Fitzgerald" is a work of art.

    Untold may be an exaggeration, but the book does give a broad look at the 1975 tragedy that resulted in 29 deaths when the ship went done in Lake Superior during a record-shattering storm.

    It's true the lake never gives up her dead, but we can admire its strength, power, and history. And Bacon's does a marvelous job of showing it all with precision, focus, and feeling. 

    If you want to know why the wreck of boat carrying 26,000 tons of iron ore that crashed 50 years ago on Dec. 10 has captured the imagination of millions around the country, listen to the Gordon Lightfoot song, then read this book.

    It begins with history, including a previous "storm of the century" that began on Nov. 7, 1913, and raged with blizzard conditions for four days over four of the five Great Lakes. Hurricane winds reached up to 80 mph, and waves breached 35 feet. Some 250 died, and nearly 40 ships were damaged or destroyed.

     Bacon said the 1975 storm also came in early November, which had an unusually warm autumn with calm and clear conditions.

    Adding to the threat was a dangerous dynamic all too familiar on the Great Lakes. The later winter shows up, the angrier it becomes.

    The story continues with the geography of the Great Lakes, the connection between the shipping and iron ore industries, and the growth in the region, especially Toledo and Detroit, in the early and mid-20th century.  The construction of the Edmund Fitzgerald -- named after the executive of the company that built it -- began in 1957. Launched the following year, it was the biggest ship the lakes had ever seen. At 729 feet long and 75 feet wide, it was built specifically to fit into the Soo Locks on the St. Marys River, between lakes Superior and Huron.

    He explains how large and perilous the Great Lakes are. Fresh water lakes are more dangerous in storms than an ocean because salt water weighs down and smooths out the waves. Superior, sometimes called the GLOAT*, is 350 miles long a 160 wide, meaning your cannot see a shore from its center. The lakes stretch from New York in the east to Minnesota in the west. They border eight states and two countries.

    The facts and history are interspersed with taut but emotional biographies of the men who went down with the ship, based on interviews with more than 100 family members, friends, mariners, former crewmen, and rescuers. We can envision their lives ending all to soon, and what could have been. We can admire their strength and courage -- and their fears as they saw "the Witch of November** come stealing."

    Bacon explains how the tragedy brought together the families of the 29 men who died. To this day, the wives and the sons and the daughters -- now into the second and third generations -- have struggled together, supported each other, and became a small community.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed

In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral

The church bell chimed 'till it rang twenty-nine times

For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald***

The Mariners' Church of Detroit

    Through the interviews, we learn how the tragedy brought together the families of the 29 men who died. To this day, the wives and the sons and the daughters -- now into the second and third generations -- have struggled together, touched each other, and become a small community.  

    The families have cried together at the site of the wreck, which is now a internationally protected burial ground. They meet yearly at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum in Whitefish Bay, where the ship's bell -- brought up in 1995 from under more that 500 feet of water -- is always on display. They have prayed together at the Mariners' Church of Detroit -- which Lightfoot had dubbed the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral. 

    Despite its sober topic, and its width and breadth, the book is quite readable. It combines short chapters on the history and geography, then includes chapters on the people involved, often bringing them back to discuss their lives, the lives of the crew, and of the people who live and work on the Great Lakes.

____________________________

*     Greatest Lake of all Time.

**   A storm in early November.

*** In the original lyrics, Lightfoot called it a "musty old hall." After he visited and parishioners gently chided him for the term, he agreed and started singing, "in a rustic old hall." After he died, on the anniversary of the wreck, they rang the bell 30 times.

Book Review: Wild Geese

 By Soula Emmanuel

• Pub Date: 2023

• Genre: Irish fiction  

• Where I bought this book: The Bookmatters Bookstore, Milford, Ohio 

• Why I bought this book: A cover blurb called the writer an "exciting new voice," and I do love me new voices in Irish writing

• Bookmark used: The Bookmatters Bookstore

*****

    I really, really wanted to like this book. I'm always looking for new contemporary Irish fiction. I want to read more about people whose lives are not like mine. I want to explore the world around me through the books I read. This one hits those points. 

    On a recent book crawl town -- 22 independent bookstores in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky over a three-day period -- Wild Geese was the first of the dozen or so books I bought.

    I'm sad to say I was a mite disappointed in this tale of a transgender woman trying to find herself in an intrusive world, when she would rather be an anonymous soul in academia.

    But here's a thing: I liked the character, Phoebe. She's a bit melodramatic, but often witty, somewhat introverted, and intelligent. (More on her later.) 

     Here's the thing. The writing, for the most part, is excellent. It shows an original, clever use of the language. It's descriptive and entertaining.

     But here's yet another thing: A compelling phrase or simile shares space with those that seem contrived. For instance, on page 114, she writes, "Comparison often leaves you on you back, afflicting the floor to spite the ceiling." But five pages later, she comes up with this gem, as she sits on the docks of Copenhagen, looking across the Øresund to neighboring Sweden: 

On a day like today, Sweden can be seen quite distinctly. The port of Helsingborg looks like art itself, a drab confusion of factories, chimneys, and warehouses -- a commentary on the one-time promises of industry. The Øresund, a smooth fillet of water, forms a velvet rope of sorts, behind which we watch from the dewy serenity of the Danish side.

    Phoebe, the protagonist, is a 30-year-old woman coming to grips with the changes in her body and mind. She's left her family and friends in Ireland to pursue her masters and doctorate degrees in Denmark. She lives alone is a small apartment, with her landlord's dog and few possessions. She's mostly drifting, ill-at-ease, and lonely.

    One Friday night, Grace -- a former girlfriend and lover back in the day before Phoebe starting transitioning -- unexpectedly knocks on her door. Grace is your basic literary antagonistic, somewhat pushy but endearing. It's unclear why she flew in for the weekend. She wants to support Phoebe and have her back in her life, but lacks the commitment or understanding of who Phoebe has become. Phoebe sense this disparity and confusion.

    The pair act as our tour guides on their excursions around Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen, the sites, the bars, and the scenes. There's a lot of drama and navel-gazing, much discussion and description. Most of it is meandering and mundane, stream-of-consciousness writing that adds to one's frustrations with the book, leaving you wondering if all is pointless. 

    But there are two other things that redeem the novel. One is that she mentions a Galway band, The Saw Doctors, several times. Then there is her interpretation of the nation's most famous statue, dedicated to a fairy tale by its beloved author, Hans Christian Andersen.

The Little Mermaid statue is a life-jacket demonstration, and that always comes at the beginning. It is an obligation -- you'd be in trouble if you didn't bother with it. It offers more in the way of accountability than aesthetics. If Grace gushes about how marvelous the little lady is, I'll know she's lying and catch her buttering me up.

Book Review: The End of the World As We Know It

 Edited by Brian Keene and Christopher Golden

• Pub Date: 2025

• Genre: Short Stories 

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books & Coffee, Covington, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: A group of writers bring us up-to-date on what happened after The Stand, perhaps the best of all of Stephen King's books. 

• Bookmark used: Books are Freadom

******

 

      Truth be told, I debated with myself before actually buying this book. No, it wasn't its length of 779 pages, kind of in the middle of King's oeuvre. It wasn't that I feared it was a rewrite (it's not) of my favorite of King's books, one that I have read several times. It's not that it was a long collection of short stories (I like short stories), written by authors who are mostly unknown to me (that's never stopped me before).

    As it turned out, none of my arguments against the book persuaded me. So I plunked down the 35 dollars (47 dollars Canadian) for the hefty tome.

    I'm still debating whether I liked it, and its goal of showing us the future, some 40 years after Captain Trips, Mother Abigail, and Randall Flagg first came to our attentions.

    It begins with one of King's wonderfully witty introductions, in which he explains why he is now allowing this book to be published, after he rejected the concept for many years. (The Stand first came out in 1978. I own an original copy of the Signet paperback -- then just $3.95 -- as well as a vintage, first trade edition of "the complete & uncut edition," a hefty, 1,153-page monster that is King's longest novel, and cost $24.95 [$29.95 Canadian] in 1990.)

     I also got a kick out of King's explanation of why even he thought his ending -- in both versions -- kinda sucked. As he was working through the unabridged edition, he says, he had some additional Stand stories in mind, but that "the book was already long enough, and I could imagine the critical reaction to what would be seen authorial self-indulgence if I lingered even long."

    Ya think?

    Anyway, this collection is hit and miss. Some of the stories are specific in time and set shortly after the events in The Stand; some are years or decades after. In some, it's unclear when they occur because time had not re-established itself yet, or it no longer mattered.

    Many include specific references to the characters and stories in The Stand, and knowing the details of the book is a must for anyone contemplating this one. If you don't know who Mother Abigail or Randall Flagg are, or would be confused about the references to the hit song, Baby Can You Dig Your Man?, maybe this book is not for you. (Perhaps read The Stand first. Then come back to this one. You'll be glad you did.

    Some of them are quite violent -- explicitly so -- and some sexually violent.  A few are almost unreadable. The first, Room 24, is downright creepy. It's about about a man in the aftertimes who continues his work as a policeman, although his department no longer exists. He takes on investigating cases and fantasizes about them.

    Other are mundane. My notes on one say simply, "about a boy and his dog." For a second one, I wrote: "don't care."

    But several are compelling. My favorite is "The Story I Tell is the Story of Some of Us." It's about a guy who chose to go with neither Mother Abigail nor Randall Flagg, When upbraided by another about not joining the fight against evil, the first man argued philosophically.

    "I'm choosing a third option," he says, "which is to reject both of you, to reject any further demands for a blood sacrifice." 

    Another intriguing one tells the story from the perspective of the animals that escaped from the place that caged them. The African Painted Dog, by Catriona Ward, is narrated by a pair of dogs wandering around, looking for food, looking for their mates, and wondering where all the humans and the noises have gone.

    

Book Review: The Body Farm

 By Abby Geni

• Pub Date: 2024

• Genre: Short Stories, Body Identity 

• Where I bought this book: Parabras Bilingual Bookstore, Phoenix, Ariz. 

• Why I bought this book: It has a really cool cover (designer: Jaya Miceli)

• Bookmark used: Hobart (N.Y.) Book Village

*******

 

  Here's the thing about short stories: They can be lovely, compelling, and meaningful. They can reach out and grab you by the heart, by the brain, by the balls.

    They can make you smile, laugh, and cry.

    But sometimes, they can be redundant or predictable, leaving you wonder if the author has any more ideas in her head.

    This collection has all of those promises along with the flaws.

    Take the first story, The Rapture of the Deep, a tale about Eloise, a scientist and deep-sea diver who studies sharks. While underwater, she thinks about her broken family, her connection with her fellow divers, and the time she suffered a shark attack that led to 467 stitches and "a mottled red ribbon of teeth marks." 

    Her somewhat estranged brother cannot understand why she continues to dive. She does -- in beautifully written remembrances of the mother who taught her to dive, of her experiences underwater, of her love of the sharks she studies -- and wishes he could have the same appreciations.

    I loved the tale, her happiness, and her desires to show her brother her joys. It works on many levels.

    A Spell for Disappearing, about a woman falling in love for the first time who starts to see that she must outwit a lover who has shown dark side, is similarly engaging.

    A few more tales are also engrossing, until you start to see the patterns and realize the stories share more than a common theme -- they tend to read the same, and you can see what's coming next. Perhaps if I read them in a different order, or put more time between readings, I'd continue to enjoy each one a little bit more.