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: 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: Greenland

 By David Santos Donaldson

• Pub Date: 2021

• Genre: Literary fiction, magical realism

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

• Why I bought this book: I liked the cover art (by Devan Shimoyama)

• Bookmark used: Roebling Books & Coffee   

 ****** 

   The esteemed Edwardian-era author E.M. Forster wrote about shaking off the shackles of his time and place. His novels and essays revolved around humanism and man's place in the world.

    In this debut novel, Donaldson attempts to go further, wandering through time, space, and thoughts. His protagonist and budding Forster fictional biography, Kipling Starling, tackles issues of accepting oneself and asserting your color, your culture, and your sexuality in a world that isn't sure it wants to have you around.

    It starts with Kip explaining his novel-within-a-novel -- an examination of the three years that Forster, a conscientious objector, lived in Alexandria, Egypt, as a Red Cross volunteer during World War I. There, he met and fell in love with Mohammed el Adl, a tram conductor.

    Kip, under pressure from himself and his publisher to rewrite the novel in three weeks, locks himself in the basement of an apartment he shares with his lover, Ben. In doing so, he imagines himself taking on the persona of Mohammed -- both are young, gay Black men, and each has fallen in love with an older, more established white man. Even the settings pair the two men -- in 1919, Mohammed spent six months in an isolated prison cell.

    From there, the themes evolve as Mohammed speaks through Kip's novel, and Kip tells his own biography and evolution as a writer and gay man.     

    Kip is having an identity crisis and unable to define or accept himself. He says he is British because he was born and raised in "a perfectly Victorian house" -- and not British because his parents are of Caribbean and Indian heritages. He is named after one of the foremost racist and colonialist intellectuals of all time, the promoter and defender of the white man's burden. 

Take up the White Man's burden--

        And reap his old reward,

The blame of  those ye better,

        The hate of those ye guard--

     Kip is also aware that in his upbringing -- not unlike the times of Forster and Muhammed -- "if displays of desire were out of the question, homosexuality was unmentionable."

    Kip has additional problems. His closest friend, Carmen, a Spanish woman open about her need to express and flaunt her sensuous nature, is dismissive of men, gay, straight or both, who fail to do the same, in favor of being comfortable. She puts Kip and Ben into that category. Kip's literary hero was a closeted gay man who published his only book addressing the issue of his homosexuality posthumously. 

    And in his writings, and in Forster's love affairs, Kip sees himself as many characters, but always the object of affection -- the exploited Mohammed, and the potential lover of Mohammed -- through the aura of time.

    It all gets complicated, and you have to pay attention to the blending of dimensions, characters, and actions. There's a sense of magical realism here, even while Kip expresses his desire to be grounded in the reality of the present.

Book Review: The Ministry of Time

 By Kaliane Bradley

• Pub Date: 2024

• Genre: Fantasy, time travel

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books, Newport, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: The idea of time -- and time travel -- fascinates me  

 *****

    I love the concept of this book -- bringing people from the past into the present -- but its execution was, shall we say, a bit disjointed.

    It has a lot going for it. The writing is decent, with flashes of brilliance. The characters for the most part are diverse and well rounded. Their biographical backgrounds -- and more than one is actually taken from the pages of history -- are compelling.

    Our hero and narrator, who is not named for the bulk of the novel, is an Asian Englishwoman working in the British civil service. She was born in Cambodia and lived through the Khmer Rouge takeover and genocide, survived and moved with her family to the UK and now lives in London. As the book begins, she finds her new job is part of a time travel experiment. Various people from other eras of the British Empire will be brought into the 21st Century. She will be a bridge to help them acclimate to the current time.

    The newcomers will be called expats, rather than refugees, the latter being considered an unflattering term. Our hero, a refugee herself and currently an expert on languages, has mixed feeling about the issue.

    The book never delves into how the theorical impossibility of time travel is overcome. It simply posits that it was found sometime in the future, and the British appropriated the discovery to the current time and place. Precautions are taken to ensure the past is not changed; they are simply bringing people from previous times into the present. "Removing them from the past ought not to impact the future."

    Still, the book is written on various timelines, which can be confusing.

    Anyway, let's start with the good parts: The writing is stunning at times,  including lines like these:

            * "Ideas have to cause problems before they cause solutions."

            * "My mother ... had witnessed the sort of horrors that changed the way screams sounded."

            * "The wind shook me like a beetle in a matchbox." -- A line I so want to believe is a reference to Melanie's song, Alexander Beetle.

     The book explores the themes of people out of their elements and trying to fit in, often comparing it to the experiences of immigrants and refugees. How they are treated -- as a curiosity, savage, naive or incompetent -- is a constant element.

    There's a story in there that explains what happened, but it's so tangled it's sometime hard to decipher. The author throws in a romance and potential crimes of the past and future. As we move into the climax, it attains the elements of a thriller, as good guys and bad guys (and who are all these people?) battle to take control of whatever needs to be taken control of.

    Yet within that, that actions sometimes grinds to a halt and we are subjected to philosophical meanderings about what it all means.

    So go ahead and enjoy the writing and the story. Just don't try to hard to understand it all.

Book Review: Lilith

 By Nikki Marmery

• Pub Date: 2023

• Where I bought this book: Athena Books, Greenwich, Conn. 

• Why I bought this book: I am fascinated by the story of Lilith

 *********

    This is a forceful and furious retelling of the Hebrew myth of Lilith, the first woman of creation, who was banished for refusing to be subservient to Adam. She was tossed out of the Garden of Eden, removed from the Bible, and erased in history. But this evocative novel brings her back, in all her glory, anger, and wisdom.

    She spends her long life -- she has attained a humble immortality -- seeking to avenge the submission of women and trying to erase the monotheistic, patriarchal society set up by the male writers in the pages of the Torah and the Christian Bible.

    It's a majestic undertaking, rich in Biblical literature and the religious history of the Middle East. It features many of the characters we know from those Bible stories, including Noah and his ark, Jezebel and Simon Peter, and Mary Magdalene and Jesus; the latter two are called by their Aramaic names, Maryam and Yehuda. It re-introduces us to Asherah, the Hebrew goddess of Heaven and the wife of Yahweh, the god of the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim faiths.

    In addition to an imaginative and convincing novel, Marmery shows a comprehensive scholarship for the Biblical era. Her sourcing range is spectacular, from the study of Hebrew and Mesopotamian myths, to Syrian and Egyptian legends, to the Gnostic Gospels, to the history of the Middle East. The languages she studies and uses include Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek.

    Whenever I read one of these retold legends, I often wonder if the writer got things right. Of course, that's a silly thought, because all myths, even the originals, are essentially made up tales and the work of more than one person. But what I want to know is how closely does the retelling adhere to the original literature, and to the perceptions of the gods and goddesses.   

Collection of Metropolitan Museum of Art

A modern (1867) painting of Lady Lilith by Dante Gabriel  

Rossetti, who portrays her as a vain seductress and a 

demonic killer of children,

    Marmery gets it right. Remember: It's not the story, but she who tells it. Marmery tells this one well, and it's as accurate a version as any out there.

    The original has Lilith present at the creation in the Garden of Eden. She was created along with Adam, the first man. But Lilith refused to lie under Adam -- and had already eaten from the Tree of Knowledge -- and was banished. God then created Eve from a rib of Adam, making her his child and wife. Thus, Adam becomes the father of all mankind, turning biology on its head, and ushering in an era of patriarchy that erases the power of women. All children come from Adam -- the mothers, if they are even mentioned, are often unnamed.

    So in this tale, Lilith sets out to retore Asherah to her rightful place as the Queen of Heaven. As Lilith seeks to find her prophet, she lives through the flood, descends into Sheol (the Hebrew underworld) to claim her lost son, walks with Jezebel and Mary Magdalene,  and learns about Jesus. In all cases, the story is a wee bit different from what we now accept.   

    Lilith is a thoughtful, knowledgeable woman, not the evil harpy often depicted. (Indeed, she sometimes is portrayed as the banshee in Irish myth, who cries out at death, and is seen as a harbinger of doom.) 

    Yes, she does question and fight, and ultimately rejects Yahweh as a conniving, vindictive, and vain god. She defends women and their rights to seek pleasure in mind and body. She does so in an effort to seek wisdom, balance, harmony, and the divinity of women. 

Book Review: Bitch

 By Lucy Cooke

• Pub Date: 2022

• Where I bought this book: Left Bank Books, Saint Louis. 

• Why I bought this book: I heard a Science Friday interview with the author, and I was fascinated

 ********

     Lucy Cooke takes on a lot in this wide ranging study, from Charles Darwin himself, to the male scientists who ignored female ingenuity over the years, to the female scientists who are seeking to right those wrongs, to Disney's ignorant portrayal of the natural world. She does so with a sharp eye, a sharper wit, and mountains of research and interviews to back her up.

    I'm not sure what is more impressive about her work -- her thesis that the females of the species have been wrongly portrayed over the past two centuries, or the staggering amount of research, field trips, and people she has interviewed while working on this book.

    It results in wide ranging factual discussions about animals from the tiny spiders who engage in all kinds of kinky sex -- including oral sex, cannibalistic sex, bisexuality, and bondage -- to the great orca whale, one of five species on earth -- including humans and three other toothed whales -- who undergo menopause.

    She starts by blaming Darwin as a man of his Victorian times, the founder of evolutionary science, who believed it dictated the activities of the two sexes. Males take advantage of the abundance of sperm and mimic it by being active, aggressive, and promiscuous in their sex lives. Females, who have to protect their limited supply of eggs, became coy, passive, and selective. These traits were projected onto humans. So it was, and so it ever shall be.

    Bollocks, says the Oxford educated Cooke.

    As just one example of misguided illusions she cites: In the animated movie Finding Nemo, the anemone mother, Coral, dies while laying her eggs during a barracuda attack, leaving just one hatched egg to survive. Years go by, and we are shown how the overprotective father, Marlin, goes to search for his missing son, Nemo. But clownfish such as Marlin and Nemo are female-dominant species. Should the mother die, the male father would switch to female. The son would quickly mature and mate with her, producing more young.

    I'm guessing Disney did not find evolution particularly family friendly in that case.

    (Also, penguins do not exist in Madagascar, and ring-tailed lemurs have a queen, not a king, because they are a female dominant species.)

    But Cooke takes down more than pop culture's assumptions. She offers, sometimes gleefully, the many female-dominant species that are promiscuous and cunning in their sex lives. Take the female songbirds, long thought to be monogamous for life, who often slip away for a little extra sexual relations on the side before returning to the nest. They may be socially monogamous, but they seek out and enjoy the extra male attention.

    Why all this happens is still being debated, investigated and researched. It's a lot of work, and example of contradiction abound. For instance, chimps and bonobos, our closest primate evolutionary mates, are total opposites.

From the book: An image
of a female bonobo
in the throes of passion

    Chimps are male dominated, aggressive, and violent. Bonobos are female-led, aggressive only in sharing sexual activities -- they enjoy frottage as foreplay, for helping them reach decisions for the group, and as a social diversion -- and peaceful. (And yes, bonobos are believed to be one of several species in which females enjoy orgasms.)

    A few quibbles here: Cooke tends to repeat herself over the chapters. And sometimes, she provides too much information, such as telling us how she interviewed a scientist over Zoom or Skype, which honestly felt irrelevant. 

    But her research is impressive. After a book of 288 pages of heavy if enjoyable reading, she has 90 pages of acknowledgements, notes, and an index. There are also numerous footnotes in the text, and you should read them. How else would you learn that a 16th Century Catholic priest with the unlikely name of Gabriele Falloppio was the first to identify and describe the clitoris -- and invent the first prophylactic sheath to shield against syphilis?

    Cooke hopes her book's reception will lead to more research, more equality between the sexes in human culture, and a greater acceptance of gender fluidity, which is rampant in the natural world. The transitional anemonefish "rocked my world," she said in closing.

    Discovering that biological sex is, in truth, a spectrum and that all sexes are basically the products of the same genes, the same hormones, and the same brains, has been the greatest revelation of all. It's forced a shift in my perspective o recognize my own cultural biases and try to banish any lingering heteronormative assumptions about the relationship between sex, sexual identity, sexed behaviour and sexuality.

    All I can add is, #MeToo.