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patchy_at_best's Reviews (1.47k)
Who would have guessed a teenaged girl could write a global coming-of-age classic? I missed out on reading The Outsiders in high school, but even as an adult reader I connected with it deeply.
On the streets of ’60s Oklahoma, 14-year-old Ponyboy and his gang of endearing but hormone-addled Greasers are at war with the upper-class Socs. Then a tragic accident turns his life upside down.
Heart is probably the last thing you’d expect from a book about violence and class wars. While The Outsiders handles some heavy socio-political themes, it delves much deeper than that, into the psyche of young people and their relationships. Family, trust, and love are the key themes. The loyal bonds between the boys are raw, creating an unexpectedly heartwarming dynamic. I could go on reading their dialogue happily ever after.
Ponyboy is my new favourite narrator. I settled into his unique voice in a matter of seconds. His narrative style is chatty and tangential, letting us in on every little detail of his life and relationships as if we were close friends. This open-hearted style is authentic to Ponyboy’s personality. I found him instantly empathetic.
I also enjoyed how Ponyboy explores the different ways the classes perceive beauty and pain – being wealthy doesn’t make you happy or a good person, the same as having very little doesn’t make you dumb or unsuccessful.
In a word, I would describe The Outsiders as real. After all, S.E. Hinton was a teenager writing about teenage life, set in a world she knew by heart. She’s honest and taps into the core of her characters. Every voice in this book rings true to me, and the emotion sizzles behind the dialogue.
This is a five star read because it achieved the most important things – entertained me with a narrator I instantly connected to, confronted me with vital questions about humanity, and moved me emotionally. There’s no age restriction or use-by date for this story.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
On the streets of ’60s Oklahoma, 14-year-old Ponyboy and his gang of endearing but hormone-addled Greasers are at war with the upper-class Socs. Then a tragic accident turns his life upside down.
When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home – page 1
Heart is probably the last thing you’d expect from a book about violence and class wars. While The Outsiders handles some heavy socio-political themes, it delves much deeper than that, into the psyche of young people and their relationships. Family, trust, and love are the key themes. The loyal bonds between the boys are raw, creating an unexpectedly heartwarming dynamic. I could go on reading their dialogue happily ever after.
Ponyboy is my new favourite narrator. I settled into his unique voice in a matter of seconds. His narrative style is chatty and tangential, letting us in on every little detail of his life and relationships as if we were close friends. This open-hearted style is authentic to Ponyboy’s personality. I found him instantly empathetic.
I also enjoyed how Ponyboy explores the different ways the classes perceive beauty and pain – being wealthy doesn’t make you happy or a good person, the same as having very little doesn’t make you dumb or unsuccessful.
Maybe Cherry stood still and watched the sun set while she was supposed to be taking the garbage out. Stood there and watched and forgot everything else until her big brother screamed at her to hurry up. I shook my head. It seemed funny to me that the sunset she saw from her patio and the one I saw from the back steps was the same one. Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren’t so different. We saw the same sunset – page 33
In a word, I would describe The Outsiders as real. After all, S.E. Hinton was a teenager writing about teenage life, set in a world she knew by heart. She’s honest and taps into the core of her characters. Every voice in this book rings true to me, and the emotion sizzles behind the dialogue.
This is a five star read because it achieved the most important things – entertained me with a narrator I instantly connected to, confronted me with vital questions about humanity, and moved me emotionally. There’s no age restriction or use-by date for this story.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
This pocket-sized essay is developed from the famous TEDx talk by Nigerian author, [a:Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie|11291|Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1474446019p2/11291.jpg]. Although it will take less than an hour to read, its message is powerful enough to resonate for a lifetime. With exceptional clarity, it uses personal stories to make the damaging affects of gender politics visible to a universal audience. We Should All Be Feminists is crucial reading for every man, women, and child.
Consider this your “feminism 101” or “starter kit for gender equality”. Chances are you don’t realise how much gender politics affect you on a daily basis. Destructive constructs of masculinity and femininity affect every person on the planet, from self worth to salaries. Unlike the average essay, Adichie’s text has a keep-it-simple-stupid integrity.
We Should All Be Feminists is by far the simplest, most engaging, and most unsettling explanation of gender politics I have read. It should be available everywhere and read by everyone. Adichie explains that it is only through ownership of the problem and readiness to contribute to the solution that the world can be improved.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
Consider this your “feminism 101” or “starter kit for gender equality”. Chances are you don’t realise how much gender politics affect you on a daily basis. Destructive constructs of masculinity and femininity affect every person on the planet, from self worth to salaries. Unlike the average essay, Adichie’s text has a keep-it-simple-stupid integrity.
We Should All Be Feminists is by far the simplest, most engaging, and most unsettling explanation of gender politics I have read. It should be available everywhere and read by everyone. Adichie explains that it is only through ownership of the problem and readiness to contribute to the solution that the world can be improved.
Gender matters everywhere in the world. And I would like today to ask that we should begin to dream about and plan for a different world. A fairer world. A world of happier men and happier women who are truer to themselves. And this is how to start: we must raise our daughters differently. We must also raise our sons differently – page 25
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
Persepolis is Marjane Satrapi’s first person account of growing up as a politically active girl in Iran during the Islamic Revolution. While giving readers insight into life during that time, what stood out to me most was how coming of age goes hand-in-hand with developing new ways of seeing the world.
In Persepolis, Marjane is a hotheaded young girl. With the unfiltered honesty of a child, she is outspoken with her political opinions. She is never afraid to stand up for what she believes, even to the point of putting herself in harm’s way – she’s no stranger to death, having witnessed bombings, stabbings, and executions of political refugees. However, Marjane’s foolhardiness betrays her naivety. Over the course of the memoir, the realisation that nothing is ever perfectly black and white forces her to grow as a person.
As a child, Marjane’s perspective of the Islamic Revolution is naturally more simplistic than her parents’. I enjoyed how all the conversations she shares with adults offer insight into the various ways people cope with life during war – some people have the wisdom to see the situation from many angles, some grow angry and violent, and some become catatonic with fear and grief. While Marjane’s natural reaction is to rant and rage, her loved ones help her to see the bigger picture. Persepolis teaches that looking at a problem from only one angle makes it impossible to solve.
The art and themes of Persepolis complement each other thoughtfully. I feel that the simple, cartoony style acts as an emotional buffer between the reader and the horrors unfolding on the page – a mindful choice to make the story much more accessible to readers. Also, the black and white art reflects how Marjane’s worldview starts out black and white. Surprisingly, the cartoon characters communicate many emotional nuances, even expressing feelings that aren’t said out loud.
Persepolis is the first book I’ve read about the Islamic Revolution in Iran. It is also an Own Voices work, meaning that Marjane’s personal experiences make her narrative an accurate and authentic representation of growing up in Iran. However, I personally feel that I would gain more from reading Persepolis if I returned to it AFTER developing my knowledge of the Islamic Revolution further. This is partly because it represents a child’s experience, which is inherently limited. Also, as a memoir, Persepolis isn’t supposed to explain every detail and give context for everything that happens. For this reason, I’m looking forward to rereading this book in the future.
Persepolis is a self-aware and poignant graphic memoir giving insight into a controversial time and topic. Its bold style and childlike ingenuity reveals how people react and change during war. While I’m still learning, I feel like Persepolis is a great Own Voices work to inform my perspective of the Islamic Revolution.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
In Persepolis, Marjane is a hotheaded young girl. With the unfiltered honesty of a child, she is outspoken with her political opinions. She is never afraid to stand up for what she believes, even to the point of putting herself in harm’s way – she’s no stranger to death, having witnessed bombings, stabbings, and executions of political refugees. However, Marjane’s foolhardiness betrays her naivety. Over the course of the memoir, the realisation that nothing is ever perfectly black and white forces her to grow as a person.
As a child, Marjane’s perspective of the Islamic Revolution is naturally more simplistic than her parents’. I enjoyed how all the conversations she shares with adults offer insight into the various ways people cope with life during war – some people have the wisdom to see the situation from many angles, some grow angry and violent, and some become catatonic with fear and grief. While Marjane’s natural reaction is to rant and rage, her loved ones help her to see the bigger picture. Persepolis teaches that looking at a problem from only one angle makes it impossible to solve.
The art and themes of Persepolis complement each other thoughtfully. I feel that the simple, cartoony style acts as an emotional buffer between the reader and the horrors unfolding on the page – a mindful choice to make the story much more accessible to readers. Also, the black and white art reflects how Marjane’s worldview starts out black and white. Surprisingly, the cartoon characters communicate many emotional nuances, even expressing feelings that aren’t said out loud.
Persepolis is the first book I’ve read about the Islamic Revolution in Iran. It is also an Own Voices work, meaning that Marjane’s personal experiences make her narrative an accurate and authentic representation of growing up in Iran. However, I personally feel that I would gain more from reading Persepolis if I returned to it AFTER developing my knowledge of the Islamic Revolution further. This is partly because it represents a child’s experience, which is inherently limited. Also, as a memoir, Persepolis isn’t supposed to explain every detail and give context for everything that happens. For this reason, I’m looking forward to rereading this book in the future.
Persepolis is a self-aware and poignant graphic memoir giving insight into a controversial time and topic. Its bold style and childlike ingenuity reveals how people react and change during war. While I’m still learning, I feel like Persepolis is a great Own Voices work to inform my perspective of the Islamic Revolution.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
The Kabuki series opened my eyes to the boundless potential of the graphic novel genre. Not only is the plot the definition of epic, but its gorgeous art style destroys expectations. The core of Kabuki is personal transformation – rewriting one’s identity, history, and culture to live a new narrative. It explores the binary of inner/outer self, with the motif of masks to protect/represent true self. I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve raved about this series to friends. It is an unforgettable contribution to the “war of art”.
CHARACTERS & KEY MOTIFS
The character of Kabuki is unravelled layer by layer throughout the series. In Vol. 1 Circle of Blood, she is a government assassin, hiding in plain sight as Noh TV’s Big Brother-esque weather reporter (“media as a manufacturer of public consent”). As a child, her identity was defined by her shameful facial scar, referencing her murdered mother the Kabuki dancer. Now, her Kabuki mask is her trademark and a motif vital to her story of transformation. Her narrative of fighting death to rewrite her future is powerfully uplifting to anyone who has lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
Kabuki features a cast of deadly female characters, of whom we only get to the see the tip of the iceberg. In Vol 3. Masks of the Noh and Vol. 7 Scarab, Lost in Translation, each of the Noh operatives are portrayed by a different artist, with the aim to express their individuality through unique art styles. This technique made me mindful of each character having their own private world beyond the main Kabuki plot line.
THE WAR OF ART
When I first started reading graphic novels, I held expectations based on genre stereotypes – think panels, speech bubbles, and black and white art. However, the art of Kabuki surpasses my wildest expectations. In fact, Mack makes art like he’s never faced a boundary in his life. While the volumes are congruent as a series, each plays with whatever mediums best communicate the heart of that particular chapter. For example, Vol. 1 is an electrifying theatre of dark and light, while Vol. 2 Dreams… drifts between life and death. Kabuki’s subconscious thought is represented by surreal mixed modal paintings, blending water colour, paper cut outs, photography, and lace. My personal favourite is the very “meta” Vol. 7 The Alchemy, which celebrates as many textures and dimensions as you can imagine.
Just as the art goes over the lines, so does the story. When Akemi introduces Kabuki to the “war of art” in Vol. 7, it becomes clear that the series aims to be a subversive, stimulating contribution to culture – blurring reality and transcending the boundaries of traditional storytelling.
As a reader and as a content creator, Kabuki motivates me to look deeply at the world, and see past perceived boundaries to my creativity and identity. Keep Kabuki on your to-read or re-read list for any day you need to stoke your life’s fire.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
CHARACTERS & KEY MOTIFS
If you don’t like the story your culture is writing… It’s not enough to say you don’t subscribe to it… You have the obligation of writing your own story… To be a contributing author of your own culture – Kabuki Vol 7. The Alchemy
The character of Kabuki is unravelled layer by layer throughout the series. In Vol. 1 Circle of Blood, she is a government assassin, hiding in plain sight as Noh TV’s Big Brother-esque weather reporter (“media as a manufacturer of public consent”). As a child, her identity was defined by her shameful facial scar, referencing her murdered mother the Kabuki dancer. Now, her Kabuki mask is her trademark and a motif vital to her story of transformation. Her narrative of fighting death to rewrite her future is powerfully uplifting to anyone who has lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
I didn’t have to be labeled by my scars, my job, my lineage, or my history. Once I learned to free myself on the inside, I became free on the outside as well – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
Kabuki features a cast of deadly female characters, of whom we only get to the see the tip of the iceberg. In Vol 3. Masks of the Noh and Vol. 7 Scarab, Lost in Translation, each of the Noh operatives are portrayed by a different artist, with the aim to express their individuality through unique art styles. This technique made me mindful of each character having their own private world beyond the main Kabuki plot line.
The revolution is the action not the subject. Once the revolution becomes the institution, you have to revolt and revolve, all over again. Stagnation is death. Status quo is death. Celebrity is death. Once a government or agency is set up to worship itself and make itself richer, and forget the ideas it is founded on, it is no longer for the people, or by the people – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
THE WAR OF ART
When I first started reading graphic novels, I held expectations based on genre stereotypes – think panels, speech bubbles, and black and white art. However, the art of Kabuki surpasses my wildest expectations. In fact, Mack makes art like he’s never faced a boundary in his life. While the volumes are congruent as a series, each plays with whatever mediums best communicate the heart of that particular chapter. For example, Vol. 1 is an electrifying theatre of dark and light, while Vol. 2 Dreams… drifts between life and death. Kabuki’s subconscious thought is represented by surreal mixed modal paintings, blending water colour, paper cut outs, photography, and lace. My personal favourite is the very “meta” Vol. 7 The Alchemy, which celebrates as many textures and dimensions as you can imagine.
Just as the art goes over the lines, so does the story. When Akemi introduces Kabuki to the “war of art” in Vol. 7, it becomes clear that the series aims to be a subversive, stimulating contribution to culture – blurring reality and transcending the boundaries of traditional storytelling.
Each letter is alive and fertile with intent of the idea… That is unlocked and activated when someone reads it … You must accept your role in the energy exchange by passing on your truth or story to those willing to unlock and open… and unfold that in themselves… Part of the global War of Art – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
As a reader and as a content creator, Kabuki motivates me to look deeply at the world, and see past perceived boundaries to my creativity and identity. Keep Kabuki on your to-read or re-read list for any day you need to stoke your life’s fire.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
The Kabuki series opened my eyes to the boundless potential of the graphic novel genre. Not only is the plot the definition of epic, but its gorgeous art style destroys expectations. The core of Kabuki is personal transformation – rewriting one’s identity, history, and culture to live a new narrative. It explores the binary of inner/outer self, with the motif of masks to protect/represent true self. I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve raved about this series to friends. It is an unforgettable contribution to the “war of art”.
CHARACTERS & KEY MOTIFS
The character of Kabuki is unravelled layer by layer throughout the series. In Vol. 1 Circle of Blood, she is a government assassin, hiding in plain sight as Noh TV’s Big Brother-esque weather reporter (“media as a manufacturer of public consent”). As a child, her identity was defined by her shameful facial scar, referencing her murdered mother the Kabuki dancer. Now, her Kabuki mask is her trademark and a motif vital to her story of transformation. Her narrative of fighting death to rewrite her future is powerfully uplifting to anyone who has lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
Kabuki features a cast of deadly female characters, of whom we only get to the see the tip of the iceberg. In Vol 3. Masks of the Noh and Vol. 7 Scarab, Lost in Translation, each of the Noh operatives are portrayed by a different artist, with the aim to express their individuality through unique art styles. This technique made me mindful of each character having their own private world beyond the main Kabuki plot line.
THE WAR OF ART
When I first started reading graphic novels, I held expectations based on genre stereotypes – think panels, speech bubbles, and black and white art. However, the art of Kabuki surpasses my wildest expectations. In fact, Mack makes art like he’s never faced a boundary in his life. While the volumes are congruent as a series, each plays with whatever mediums best communicate the heart of that particular chapter. For example, Vol. 1 is an electrifying theatre of dark and light, while Vol. 2 Dreams… drifts between life and death. Kabuki’s subconscious thought is represented by surreal mixed modal paintings, blending water colour, paper cut outs, photography, and lace. My personal favourite is the very “meta” Vol. 7 The Alchemy, which celebrates as many textures and dimensions as you can imagine.
Just as the art goes over the lines, so does the story. When Akemi introduces Kabuki to the “war of art” in Vol. 7, it becomes clear that the series aims to be a subversive, stimulating contribution to culture – blurring reality and transcending the boundaries of traditional storytelling.
As a reader and as a content creator, Kabuki motivates me to look deeply at the world, and see past perceived boundaries to my creativity and identity. Keep Kabuki on your to-read or re-read list for any day you need to stoke your life’s fire.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
CHARACTERS & KEY MOTIFS
If you don’t like the story your culture is writing… It’s not enough to say you don’t subscribe to it… You have the obligation of writing your own story… To be a contributing author of your own culture – Kabuki Vol 7. The Alchemy
The character of Kabuki is unravelled layer by layer throughout the series. In Vol. 1 Circle of Blood, she is a government assassin, hiding in plain sight as Noh TV’s Big Brother-esque weather reporter (“media as a manufacturer of public consent”). As a child, her identity was defined by her shameful facial scar, referencing her murdered mother the Kabuki dancer. Now, her Kabuki mask is her trademark and a motif vital to her story of transformation. Her narrative of fighting death to rewrite her future is powerfully uplifting to anyone who has lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
I didn’t have to be labeled by my scars, my job, my lineage, or my history. Once I learned to free myself on the inside, I became free on the outside as well – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
Kabuki features a cast of deadly female characters, of whom we only get to the see the tip of the iceberg. In Vol 3. Masks of the Noh and Vol. 7 Scarab, Lost in Translation, each of the Noh operatives are portrayed by a different artist, with the aim to express their individuality through unique art styles. This technique made me mindful of each character having their own private world beyond the main Kabuki plot line.
The revolution is the action not the subject. Once the revolution becomes the institution, you have to revolt and revolve, all over again. Stagnation is death. Status quo is death. Celebrity is death. Once a government or agency is set up to worship itself and make itself richer, and forget the ideas it is founded on, it is no longer for the people, or by the people – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
THE WAR OF ART
When I first started reading graphic novels, I held expectations based on genre stereotypes – think panels, speech bubbles, and black and white art. However, the art of Kabuki surpasses my wildest expectations. In fact, Mack makes art like he’s never faced a boundary in his life. While the volumes are congruent as a series, each plays with whatever mediums best communicate the heart of that particular chapter. For example, Vol. 1 is an electrifying theatre of dark and light, while Vol. 2 Dreams… drifts between life and death. Kabuki’s subconscious thought is represented by surreal mixed modal paintings, blending water colour, paper cut outs, photography, and lace. My personal favourite is the very “meta” Vol. 7 The Alchemy, which celebrates as many textures and dimensions as you can imagine.
Just as the art goes over the lines, so does the story. When Akemi introduces Kabuki to the “war of art” in Vol. 7, it becomes clear that the series aims to be a subversive, stimulating contribution to culture – blurring reality and transcending the boundaries of traditional storytelling.
Each letter is alive and fertile with intent of the idea… That is unlocked and activated when someone reads it … You must accept your role in the energy exchange by passing on your truth or story to those willing to unlock and open… and unfold that in themselves… Part of the global War of Art – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
As a reader and as a content creator, Kabuki motivates me to look deeply at the world, and see past perceived boundaries to my creativity and identity. Keep Kabuki on your to-read or re-read list for any day you need to stoke your life’s fire.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
The Kabuki series opened my eyes to the boundless potential of the graphic novel genre. Not only is the plot the definition of epic, but its gorgeous art style destroys expectations. The core of Kabuki is personal transformation – rewriting one’s identity, history, and culture to live a new narrative. It explores the binary of inner/outer self, with the motif of masks to protect/represent true self. I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve raved about this series to friends. It is an unforgettable contribution to the “war of art”.
CHARACTERS & KEY MOTIFS
The character of Kabuki is unravelled layer by layer throughout the series. In Vol. 1 Circle of Blood, she is a government assassin, hiding in plain sight as Noh TV’s Big Brother-esque weather reporter (“media as a manufacturer of public consent”). As a child, her identity was defined by her shameful facial scar, referencing her murdered mother the Kabuki dancer. Now, her Kabuki mask is her trademark and a motif vital to her story of transformation. Her narrative of fighting death to rewrite her future is powerfully uplifting to anyone who has lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
Kabuki features a cast of deadly female characters, of whom we only get to the see the tip of the iceberg. In Vol 3. Masks of the Noh and Vol. 7 Scarab, Lost in Translation, each of the Noh operatives are portrayed by a different artist, with the aim to express their individuality through unique art styles. This technique made me mindful of each character having their own private world beyond the main Kabuki plot line.
THE WAR OF ART
When I first started reading graphic novels, I held expectations based on genre stereotypes – think panels, speech bubbles, and black and white art. However, the art of Kabuki surpasses my wildest expectations. In fact, Mack makes art like he’s never faced a boundary in his life. While the volumes are congruent as a series, each plays with whatever mediums best communicate the heart of that particular chapter. For example, Vol. 1 is an electrifying theatre of dark and light, while Vol. 2 Dreams… drifts between life and death. Kabuki’s subconscious thought is represented by surreal mixed modal paintings, blending water colour, paper cut outs, photography, and lace. My personal favourite is the very “meta” Vol. 7 The Alchemy, which celebrates as many textures and dimensions as you can imagine.
Just as the art goes over the lines, so does the story. When Akemi introduces Kabuki to the “war of art” in Vol. 7, it becomes clear that the series aims to be a subversive, stimulating contribution to culture – blurring reality and transcending the boundaries of traditional storytelling.
As a reader and as a content creator, Kabuki motivates me to look deeply at the world, and see past perceived boundaries to my creativity and identity. Keep Kabuki on your to-read or re-read list for any day you need to stoke your life’s fire.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
CHARACTERS & KEY MOTIFS
If you don’t like the story your culture is writing… It’s not enough to say you don’t subscribe to it… You have the obligation of writing your own story… To be a contributing author of your own culture – Kabuki Vol 7. The Alchemy
The character of Kabuki is unravelled layer by layer throughout the series. In Vol. 1 Circle of Blood, she is a government assassin, hiding in plain sight as Noh TV’s Big Brother-esque weather reporter (“media as a manufacturer of public consent”). As a child, her identity was defined by her shameful facial scar, referencing her murdered mother the Kabuki dancer. Now, her Kabuki mask is her trademark and a motif vital to her story of transformation. Her narrative of fighting death to rewrite her future is powerfully uplifting to anyone who has lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
I didn’t have to be labeled by my scars, my job, my lineage, or my history. Once I learned to free myself on the inside, I became free on the outside as well – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
Kabuki features a cast of deadly female characters, of whom we only get to the see the tip of the iceberg. In Vol 3. Masks of the Noh and Vol. 7 Scarab, Lost in Translation, each of the Noh operatives are portrayed by a different artist, with the aim to express their individuality through unique art styles. This technique made me mindful of each character having their own private world beyond the main Kabuki plot line.
The revolution is the action not the subject. Once the revolution becomes the institution, you have to revolt and revolve, all over again. Stagnation is death. Status quo is death. Celebrity is death. Once a government or agency is set up to worship itself and make itself richer, and forget the ideas it is founded on, it is no longer for the people, or by the people – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
THE WAR OF ART
When I first started reading graphic novels, I held expectations based on genre stereotypes – think panels, speech bubbles, and black and white art. However, the art of Kabuki surpasses my wildest expectations. In fact, Mack makes art like he’s never faced a boundary in his life. While the volumes are congruent as a series, each plays with whatever mediums best communicate the heart of that particular chapter. For example, Vol. 1 is an electrifying theatre of dark and light, while Vol. 2 Dreams… drifts between life and death. Kabuki’s subconscious thought is represented by surreal mixed modal paintings, blending water colour, paper cut outs, photography, and lace. My personal favourite is the very “meta” Vol. 7 The Alchemy, which celebrates as many textures and dimensions as you can imagine.
Just as the art goes over the lines, so does the story. When Akemi introduces Kabuki to the “war of art” in Vol. 7, it becomes clear that the series aims to be a subversive, stimulating contribution to culture – blurring reality and transcending the boundaries of traditional storytelling.
Each letter is alive and fertile with intent of the idea… That is unlocked and activated when someone reads it … You must accept your role in the energy exchange by passing on your truth or story to those willing to unlock and open… and unfold that in themselves… Part of the global War of Art – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
As a reader and as a content creator, Kabuki motivates me to look deeply at the world, and see past perceived boundaries to my creativity and identity. Keep Kabuki on your to-read or re-read list for any day you need to stoke your life’s fire.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
The Kabuki series opened my eyes to the boundless potential of the graphic novel genre. Not only is the plot the definition of epic, but its gorgeous art style destroys expectations. The core of Kabuki is personal transformation – rewriting one’s identity, history, and culture to live a new narrative. It explores the binary of inner/outer self, with the motif of masks to protect/represent true self. I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve raved about this series to friends. It is an unforgettable contribution to the “war of art”.
CHARACTERS & KEY MOTIFS
The character of Kabuki is unravelled layer by layer throughout the series. In Vol. 1 Circle of Blood, she is a government assassin, hiding in plain sight as Noh TV’s Big Brother-esque weather reporter (“media as a manufacturer of public consent”). As a child, her identity was defined by her shameful facial scar, referencing her murdered mother the Kabuki dancer. Now, her Kabuki mask is her trademark and a motif vital to her story of transformation. Her narrative of fighting death to rewrite her future is powerfully uplifting to anyone who has lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
Kabuki features a cast of deadly female characters, of whom we only get to the see the tip of the iceberg. In Vol 3. Masks of the Noh and Vol. 7 Scarab, Lost in Translation, each of the Noh operatives are portrayed by a different artist, with the aim to express their individuality through unique art styles. This technique made me mindful of each character having their own private world beyond the main Kabuki plot line.
THE WAR OF ART
When I first started reading graphic novels, I held expectations based on genre stereotypes – think panels, speech bubbles, and black and white art. However, the art of Kabuki surpasses my wildest expectations. In fact, Mack makes art like he’s never faced a boundary in his life. While the volumes are congruent as a series, each plays with whatever mediums best communicate the heart of that particular chapter. For example, Vol. 1 is an electrifying theatre of dark and light, while Vol. 2 Dreams… drifts between life and death. Kabuki’s subconscious thought is represented by surreal mixed modal paintings, blending water colour, paper cut outs, photography, and lace. My personal favourite is the very “meta” Vol. 7 The Alchemy, which celebrates as many textures and dimensions as you can imagine.
Just as the art goes over the lines, so does the story. When Akemi introduces Kabuki to the “war of art” in Vol. 7, it becomes clear that the series aims to be a subversive, stimulating contribution to culture – blurring reality and transcending the boundaries of traditional storytelling.
As a reader and as a content creator, Kabuki motivates me to look deeply at the world, and see past perceived boundaries to my creativity and identity. Keep Kabuki on your to-read or re-read list for any day you need to stoke your life’s fire.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
CHARACTERS & KEY MOTIFS
If you don’t like the story your culture is writing… It’s not enough to say you don’t subscribe to it… You have the obligation of writing your own story… To be a contributing author of your own culture – Kabuki Vol 7. The Alchemy
The character of Kabuki is unravelled layer by layer throughout the series. In Vol. 1 Circle of Blood, she is a government assassin, hiding in plain sight as Noh TV’s Big Brother-esque weather reporter (“media as a manufacturer of public consent”). As a child, her identity was defined by her shameful facial scar, referencing her murdered mother the Kabuki dancer. Now, her Kabuki mask is her trademark and a motif vital to her story of transformation. Her narrative of fighting death to rewrite her future is powerfully uplifting to anyone who has lost sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.
I didn’t have to be labeled by my scars, my job, my lineage, or my history. Once I learned to free myself on the inside, I became free on the outside as well – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
Kabuki features a cast of deadly female characters, of whom we only get to the see the tip of the iceberg. In Vol 3. Masks of the Noh and Vol. 7 Scarab, Lost in Translation, each of the Noh operatives are portrayed by a different artist, with the aim to express their individuality through unique art styles. This technique made me mindful of each character having their own private world beyond the main Kabuki plot line.
The revolution is the action not the subject. Once the revolution becomes the institution, you have to revolt and revolve, all over again. Stagnation is death. Status quo is death. Celebrity is death. Once a government or agency is set up to worship itself and make itself richer, and forget the ideas it is founded on, it is no longer for the people, or by the people – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
THE WAR OF ART
When I first started reading graphic novels, I held expectations based on genre stereotypes – think panels, speech bubbles, and black and white art. However, the art of Kabuki surpasses my wildest expectations. In fact, Mack makes art like he’s never faced a boundary in his life. While the volumes are congruent as a series, each plays with whatever mediums best communicate the heart of that particular chapter. For example, Vol. 1 is an electrifying theatre of dark and light, while Vol. 2 Dreams… drifts between life and death. Kabuki’s subconscious thought is represented by surreal mixed modal paintings, blending water colour, paper cut outs, photography, and lace. My personal favourite is the very “meta” Vol. 7 The Alchemy, which celebrates as many textures and dimensions as you can imagine.
Just as the art goes over the lines, so does the story. When Akemi introduces Kabuki to the “war of art” in Vol. 7, it becomes clear that the series aims to be a subversive, stimulating contribution to culture – blurring reality and transcending the boundaries of traditional storytelling.
Each letter is alive and fertile with intent of the idea… That is unlocked and activated when someone reads it … You must accept your role in the energy exchange by passing on your truth or story to those willing to unlock and open… and unfold that in themselves… Part of the global War of Art – Kabuki Vol. 7 The Alchemy
As a reader and as a content creator, Kabuki motivates me to look deeply at the world, and see past perceived boundaries to my creativity and identity. Keep Kabuki on your to-read or re-read list for any day you need to stoke your life’s fire.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
In this soul-bearing memoir by the author of [b:Girl, Interrupted|68783|Girl, Interrupted|Susanna Kaysen|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1475482930s/68783.jpg|926090], Susanna Kaysen chronicles her relationship with her vagina. When this under-appreciated part of her anatomy starts to hurt, destroying her sex life, her vagina suddenly becomes the centre of her universe. Susanna is forced to analyse her new relationships with emotional abuse and chronic pain, and how all this impacts her identity as a woman… in a nutshell, everything you’re not supposed to talk about in public.
Susanna’s quest to cure her mystery pain reveals how different medical professionals will view the same problem through different lenses – one says the pain is all in her mind, another says experimental surgery will cure it, and yet another says alternative approaches such as baking soda baths and biofeedback are the only hope. When none of the experts can solve the puzzle, Susanna’s countless contradictory diagnoses leave her feeling beyond help.
CHRONIC PAIN & EMOTIONAL ABUSE
I was immersed in Susanna’s internal struggle to come to terms with her new reality revolving around chronic pain – and how not being able to use her vagina impacts her self-view and relationships. It forced me to question how my own self-view would change if I experienced chronic pain anywhere in my body. Since this memoir is so intimate and empathetic, it promotes personal growth through self-reflection. While it may not be a story you feel comfortable sharing with friends and family, the internal dialogue it encourages is still powerful.
While parts of this book are laugh-out-loud hilarious, I found Susanna’s experiences intensely confronting. The words and actions of her emotionally abusive boyfriend were triggering for me. Their relationship demonstrates the abuser’s power to make the victim blame themselves and doubt their perception of reality. While these sections are horrible to read, Susanna’s commitment to the nitty-gritty parts of her journey unpacks the abusive cycle and makes the victim’s point of view easier to understand. It also shows how chronic pain can impact every level of a person’s life.
For me, the title The Camera My Mother Gave Me is spot-on. This title perfectly captures the essence of this memoir – from a young age, we are conditioned to view female bodies and female sexuality through a filter that doesn’t account for the full spectrum of experience. Susanna’s journey challenges common misbeliefs about female identity. She owns her sexuality and refuses to let her body serve anyone else’s agenda. Besides her own witty voice, her memoir features a memorable cast of real people with real opinions.
The Camera My Mother Gave Me confronts countless taboos in its discussion of relationship abuse, chronic pain, and women’s bodies. For such a short book, it took me on a powerful journey and changed my perspectives profoundly.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
Susanna’s quest to cure her mystery pain reveals how different medical professionals will view the same problem through different lenses – one says the pain is all in her mind, another says experimental surgery will cure it, and yet another says alternative approaches such as baking soda baths and biofeedback are the only hope. When none of the experts can solve the puzzle, Susanna’s countless contradictory diagnoses leave her feeling beyond help.
This is horrible, I told him. This is the most horrible thing because it involves someone else too. Yes, said Doctor Matthew. It comforted me that he didn’t tell me it wasn’t the most horrible thing. Whatever is happening to you is always the most horrible thing – page 21
CHRONIC PAIN & EMOTIONAL ABUSE
I was immersed in Susanna’s internal struggle to come to terms with her new reality revolving around chronic pain – and how not being able to use her vagina impacts her self-view and relationships. It forced me to question how my own self-view would change if I experienced chronic pain anywhere in my body. Since this memoir is so intimate and empathetic, it promotes personal growth through self-reflection. While it may not be a story you feel comfortable sharing with friends and family, the internal dialogue it encourages is still powerful.
While parts of this book are laugh-out-loud hilarious, I found Susanna’s experiences intensely confronting. The words and actions of her emotionally abusive boyfriend were triggering for me. Their relationship demonstrates the abuser’s power to make the victim blame themselves and doubt their perception of reality. While these sections are horrible to read, Susanna’s commitment to the nitty-gritty parts of her journey unpacks the abusive cycle and makes the victim’s point of view easier to understand. It also shows how chronic pain can impact every level of a person’s life.
The fact of the pain was the burden. It was like an unwieldy piece of luggage that I had to drag around. When I went out to dinner, or took a walk, or got into bed, I had to slog the luggage along with me. The pain itself was not that bad. What was bad was the idea that I was stuck with it. There was no checking it, or storing it in the overhead bin, no unpacking it and putting it in the closet, and that was what sapped my energy – page 122
For me, the title The Camera My Mother Gave Me is spot-on. This title perfectly captures the essence of this memoir – from a young age, we are conditioned to view female bodies and female sexuality through a filter that doesn’t account for the full spectrum of experience. Susanna’s journey challenges common misbeliefs about female identity. She owns her sexuality and refuses to let her body serve anyone else’s agenda. Besides her own witty voice, her memoir features a memorable cast of real people with real opinions.
Is it okay? I asked. Is it okay that I want to stop trying to fix it? It’s completely okay, he said. I feel like I’m walking out on life, I said. Part of it. For the moment, he said. But not all of it. As you said, there’s more to you than a sick vagina – page 106
The Camera My Mother Gave Me confronts countless taboos in its discussion of relationship abuse, chronic pain, and women’s bodies. For such a short book, it took me on a powerful journey and changed my perspectives profoundly.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
It Ends With Us is a powerfully moving novel about domestic abuse. It educates readers on the self-delusions and self-blame that perpetuate the abusive cycle, as well as the financial and family factors that sometimes make separation impossible. For a book with such a light and accessible tone, It Ends With Us took me on a dark emotional journey that resonated long after reading. This is a necessary book that makes difficult discussions accessible to our generation.
25-year-old Lily Bloom is living her dream – not only is she the proud owner of a flower shop, but her chemistry with sexy and hotheaded neurosurgeon, Ryle, is beginning to look a lot like love. After her father’s funeral, Lily is glad to bury the memories of his violence towards her mother. However, when Ryle’s actions shatter their perfect bubble, she finds herself in a position she swore she would never be.
CHARACTERS & PLOT
At first I was put off by the chirpy, cheesy characters and the relatively basic writing style. Not to mention, Ryle ticks all the boxes of a Mills & Boon love interest. My first impressions and quick assumptions were an obstacle I needed to get over before I warmed up to the characters.
However, my relationship with the characters changed dramatically as I read. Despite my first impressions, I surprised myself by growing extremely invested in Lily as the plot heated up. Although I initially stereotyped her as a shallow character, her reactions to relationship conflict were authentic and rang true to me personally. I got lost in her inner monologue, empathising with her mental reasoning. Lily bloomed as a character. As her emotions grow more complicated and layered, I could easily imagine myself in her place – a scary wakeup call.
Despite my emotional connection to Lily, the secondary characters are straight-up clichés: Ryle, the arrogant but irresistible career man; Allysa, Lily’s rich yet selfless best friend; Atlas, Lily’s first love who reappears at the worst (or best?) time. Lily’s complicated history with Atlas is gradually explored via diary entries 15-year-old Lily addressed to her celebrity role model, Ellen Degeneres. Although this cheesiness made me cringe, I enjoyed seeing the puzzle pieces fall into place. Despite myself, I ultimately became too engrossed in the story to be bothered by shallow characters and plot devices.
REPRESENTING DOMESTIC VIOLENCE SURVIVORS
It Ends With Us sank its teeth in me and didn’t let go. Whenever I put the book down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I or one of my friends was living Lily’s pain. As someone who has experienced emotional abuse, many aspects of Lily’s story were triggering. I wore a heavy shroud of dread and empathy going about my daily life, and cried at several points when confronted by my own painful memories. For this reason, I encourage you to be mindful of your own mental and emotional wellbeing while reading this book.
While its immersive power makes it an incredible tool for expanding awareness of domestic violence survivors, It Ends With Us is potentially triggering for some readers. I’m aware there is a fine line between validating people’s painful experiences and forcing them to revisit their trauma. Despite or maybe because of my painful emotional reaction to It Ends With Us, I support it as a timely book that I hope will lead many people on a journey to compassion.
I took away one crucial message: regardless of intent, acting judgmentally or patronisingly towards someone in an abusive relationship is narrow-minded and harmful – no matter what you think you know about a person, you can never truly fathom the endless personal details that weigh in on their decision to stay. Their choice may be built on years of complicated history, the wellbeing and financial security of their family, and of course the complex emotions of being gaslighted by their loved ones into self-blaming and justifying the abuser’s actions. While the situation may appear black and white to outsiders, the experience is in fact countless shades of grey. It Ends With Us tries to portray as many of these shades as possible, revealing truths I’ve never considered before.
While Colleen Hoover acknowledges It Ends With Us cannot possibly cover every angle to the issue of domestic violence, I believe this book is as inclusive and accessible as possible given the limitations of a single representation. In her author’s note, Hoover discusses her powerful personal connection to the story, and talks through even more factors that can impact domestic violence survivors’ mental and physical health.
I’m grateful for the impact Hoover’s writing had on my perspective. She reminded me of storytelling’s power to put me into another person’s mind and open up painful taboos for discussion. Please proceed mindfully, and seek support if the confronting content reopens wounds.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
Fifteen seconds. That’s all it takes to completely change everything about a person – page 186
25-year-old Lily Bloom is living her dream – not only is she the proud owner of a flower shop, but her chemistry with sexy and hotheaded neurosurgeon, Ryle, is beginning to look a lot like love. After her father’s funeral, Lily is glad to bury the memories of his violence towards her mother. However, when Ryle’s actions shatter their perfect bubble, she finds herself in a position she swore she would never be.
CHARACTERS & PLOT
At first I was put off by the chirpy, cheesy characters and the relatively basic writing style. Not to mention, Ryle ticks all the boxes of a Mills & Boon love interest. My first impressions and quick assumptions were an obstacle I needed to get over before I warmed up to the characters.
However, my relationship with the characters changed dramatically as I read. Despite my first impressions, I surprised myself by growing extremely invested in Lily as the plot heated up. Although I initially stereotyped her as a shallow character, her reactions to relationship conflict were authentic and rang true to me personally. I got lost in her inner monologue, empathising with her mental reasoning. Lily bloomed as a character. As her emotions grow more complicated and layered, I could easily imagine myself in her place – a scary wakeup call.
Despite my emotional connection to Lily, the secondary characters are straight-up clichés: Ryle, the arrogant but irresistible career man; Allysa, Lily’s rich yet selfless best friend; Atlas, Lily’s first love who reappears at the worst (or best?) time. Lily’s complicated history with Atlas is gradually explored via diary entries 15-year-old Lily addressed to her celebrity role model, Ellen Degeneres. Although this cheesiness made me cringe, I enjoyed seeing the puzzle pieces fall into place. Despite myself, I ultimately became too engrossed in the story to be bothered by shallow characters and plot devices.
REPRESENTING DOMESTIC VIOLENCE SURVIVORS
It Ends With Us sank its teeth in me and didn’t let go. Whenever I put the book down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I or one of my friends was living Lily’s pain. As someone who has experienced emotional abuse, many aspects of Lily’s story were triggering. I wore a heavy shroud of dread and empathy going about my daily life, and cried at several points when confronted by my own painful memories. For this reason, I encourage you to be mindful of your own mental and emotional wellbeing while reading this book.
While its immersive power makes it an incredible tool for expanding awareness of domestic violence survivors, It Ends With Us is potentially triggering for some readers. I’m aware there is a fine line between validating people’s painful experiences and forcing them to revisit their trauma. Despite or maybe because of my painful emotional reaction to It Ends With Us, I support it as a timely book that I hope will lead many people on a journey to compassion.
I took away one crucial message: regardless of intent, acting judgmentally or patronisingly towards someone in an abusive relationship is narrow-minded and harmful – no matter what you think you know about a person, you can never truly fathom the endless personal details that weigh in on their decision to stay. Their choice may be built on years of complicated history, the wellbeing and financial security of their family, and of course the complex emotions of being gaslighted by their loved ones into self-blaming and justifying the abuser’s actions. While the situation may appear black and white to outsiders, the experience is in fact countless shades of grey. It Ends With Us tries to portray as many of these shades as possible, revealing truths I’ve never considered before.
She’ll pity me. She’ll wonder why I never left him. She’ll wonder how I let myself get to this point. She’ll wonder all the same things I used to wonder about my own mother when I saw her in my same situation. People spend so much time wondering why the women don’t leave. Where are all the people who wonder why the men are even abusive? Isn’t that where the only blame should be placed? – page 274
While Colleen Hoover acknowledges It Ends With Us cannot possibly cover every angle to the issue of domestic violence, I believe this book is as inclusive and accessible as possible given the limitations of a single representation. In her author’s note, Hoover discusses her powerful personal connection to the story, and talks through even more factors that can impact domestic violence survivors’ mental and physical health.
I’m grateful for the impact Hoover’s writing had on my perspective. She reminded me of storytelling’s power to put me into another person’s mind and open up painful taboos for discussion. Please proceed mindfully, and seek support if the confronting content reopens wounds.
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
