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Period: The Real Story of Menstruation by Kate Clancy
Okay, so you don't understand reproductive, and/or evolutionary biology, got it. And you don't understand feminist theory/analysis, got it. ✅
Okay you definitely don't even remotely understand feminist theory/analysis, got it! ✅
And yes, this is 'Murican-centric as all hell. Harping on about white privilege, slavery, eugenics and how those things shaped the emergence of gynaecology in North America (and not a peep about how midwives were pushed away from female medicine in Europe itself, of course). Yes, those things are horrible parts of history, but again: if I wanted to read about the influence of imperialism, colonialism, etc... on the development of gynaecological medicine, I'd go read a book specifically about that! As it stands: this grovelling virtue-signalling gave me second-hand embarrassment, I swear to the bloody gods.
All I wanted was to learn about menstruation, without being made to feel 'woman', and 'female', are dirty words. Is that really too much to ask?! 😫
So please, if anyone knows (of) a book about the current science of menstruation that doesn't stoop to this level of abject muppetry, do let me know. 'Cause I just can't with this one.
Edit – 26th of March 2024:
Okay, so... I did in fact push myself to read this thing in its entirety. I hate feeling like I might be unfair to a book the contents of which I haven't actually read. And I felt a little guilty that I went off on this book, so hard... just based on its introduction. To be clear though: I don't (and never) bear any ill will towards the author; I wish her the best of luck in her future endeavours, but like... outside of diverging worldviews/attitudes, this book is legitimately bad . And I'm left wondering: Princeton University Press, what the fuck were you smoking?Oh, right, you just wanted that 'woke' title-bait fat dollah fiction publishing makes on books they (largely) falsely advertise as 'feminist'. That sadly checks out.
This is, quite frankly, the worst non-fiction book I've read since Entangled Life, in 2021, and that was a lot better than this wishy-washy, virtue-signally nothingburger of a 'treatise' on menstruation. Next time, I swear to the freaking gods, I'm sticking to my decision to DNF, because gah dayum!
And I'm gonna go with bullet points for this one:
a) The stuff that repulsed me in the introduction very much continued in the rest of the text: it was way too 'Murican-centric, way too concerned with virtue-signalling and self-flagellation for the crime of being written by a non-dysphoric female human of European descent. To quote my boyfriend: the entirety of fucking Western medicine has colonialist, imperialist, etc... skeletons in its closet, can we thus please move the fuck on in a book purportedly about the phenomenon of menstruation itself? Like seriously, the book's conclusion all but argues women seeking information about their own bodies should first receive a class on the eugenic past of gynaecology to... create a better, more inclusive future (I guess). How about... no ? Just give me the fucking science already!
b) Which means there was also very little actual freaking science in this thing – medical or otherwise. The author tried to tackle way too many research angles (biology, anthropology, sociology, public health policy, social justice) over the span of a relatively short text, and failed to properly delve into any of them as a result. I learned next-to-nothing of note in this book (with regards to the perception of menstruation in other cultures, or the actual biology of menstruation, in relation to things like stress for instance) – it was the very incarnation of 'spread too thin' superficiality.
c) This is also because – and tying back to my first point – the author wasted way too many pages writing what essentially amounted to a political op-ed, pamphlet, manifesto, what have you... instead of an actual pop-science book.
d) Additionally, and this hits more personally, I'll admit: the section of the book that dealt with the long-term physiological impact of trauma left a very bad taste in my mouth. Yes, broader sociological factors impact individual experiences of adversity and/or trauma, but 'fighting the power' won't fucking change the fact I was abused, and raped, by individuals, and that these experiences impacted both my mind, and female body, as an individual victim. So I don't know what the author's fucking point was in contesting the importance of considering trauma in the assessment of a person's health issues. Especially since she disclosed, in her introduction, the fact she is also a victim of SA.
e) The simple fact is the book suffers from its obsession with 'identity politics/wokeness'. I always feel so freaking weird with this stuff because I consider myself a feminist, anti-racist, unspecifiedly leftist, and an environmentalist. But this... this stuff just falls into the most off-putting kind of un-nuanced, untethered, black and white thinking – blegh. I mean the book literally mentions the 'myth of personal responsibility'. Thing is: how the actual fuck is this a myth though? I get, on some level, that the author – probably – simply meant that, in this day and age of neoliberal (and still androcratic) capitalism, emphasis isn't sufficiently placed on collective (and institutional) responsibility. But why oh why this over-correction to the opposite extreme? Why does it always have to be a freaking either/or with these people?! It's both , for fuck's sake. Anyways, semi-off topic rant over.
In conclusion: this book was terrible. Read Caroline Criado Perez' Invisible Women for an infinitely better book about what I... think this one was trying to go for. And, well, something else to learn about the actual science of menstruation I guess. :/
Rant from the 17th of March 2024:
Okay I'm DNFing this one.
I won't give a rating, to try and remain fair, but holy crap am I angry.
31 pages in and the author is still harping on about 'identity politics', the Great Evils™ of the history of anthropology and gynaecology; going on completely unnecessary tangents about DSDs, and self-flagellating for being – shock horror – a 'White Cis Woman™'. Oh, and also about how she's 'doing the Lady's work by employing "feminist" methodology. No, madam, you are not; what you described there is simply called epistemology! Also congrats to the author for finally making me feel embarrassed to share the label of 'feminist' with the likes of her. 🥲
Then of course, there's the 'people who menstruate' bullshit that made me want to shoot myself. And it's hilarious, too, because the words 'women' and 'girls' were also used... so t'was all one giant, garbled mess. 🫠
Like seriously: is this what gynocentric non-fiction publishing is, just, going to be for the next couple of decades, until the 'Murican-centric Woke Wars calm the fuck down? It's bloody infuriating to me I can't read a book, and learn cool new facts about a central function of my female (yes, I said it, it's female, fucking deal with it genderists) body without being pelted in the face with nauseating, self-hating, virtue-signalling, woke punditry, and yes, anti-feminist, sexist and misogynistic female erasure. God fucking damn it.
The editors literally could've written in 'women*' instead of 'people who menstruate' (🤮) and have a footnote explaining the asterisk included trans-masc peeps. Or, they could've written in 'female humans', or 'women and trans-masc persons'. Any one of those options would've taken up less space, less ink, and... isn't saving on paper all the rage now in publishing, in any case, hmm? But nah: why do any of that when you can just reduce women to a function of their body? Whilst leaving men as, well... men, of fucking course. Can't possibly call men 'people who have testicles', amirite? 🙄
This author has absolutely no business calling herself a feminist (in this book at least, sorry not sorry), when she clearly doesn't understand feminist theory 101. 'People who menstruate have historically been controlled, with regards to their fertility, by people who don't menstruate', yes, you ---, that's men/male humans, as a class exploiting women/female humans, as a class for their reproductive labour! Jesus fucking christ this is the most basic you can freaking get in terms of feminist analysis! This is precisely what radical feminists have been pointing to for the past 20+ years: this Orwellian language capture prevents us from even naming the problem and discussing the roots of sex-based oppression!!! But of course, anti-racists and, say, marxists, can keep discussing their axes of material oppression just fine... it's women, per usual, who have to give in to accommodate the whims of others. Fuck our lives, I guess.
Okay, so... I did in fact push myself to read this thing in its entirety. I hate feeling like I might be unfair to a book the contents of which I haven't actually read. And I felt a little guilty that I went off on this book, so hard... just based on its introduction. To be clear though: I don't (and never) bear any ill will towards the author; I wish her the best of luck in her future endeavours, but like... outside of diverging worldviews/attitudes, this book is legitimately bad . And I'm left wondering: Princeton University Press, what the fuck were you smoking?
This is, quite frankly, the worst non-fiction book I've read since Entangled Life, in 2021, and that was a lot better than this wishy-washy, virtue-signally nothingburger of a 'treatise' on menstruation. Next time, I swear to the freaking gods, I'm sticking to my decision to DNF, because gah dayum!
And I'm gonna go with bullet points for this one:
a) The stuff that repulsed me in the introduction very much continued in the rest of the text: it was way too 'Murican-centric, way too concerned with virtue-signalling and self-flagellation for the crime of being written by a non-dysphoric female human of European descent. To quote my boyfriend: the entirety of fucking Western medicine has colonialist, imperialist, etc... skeletons in its closet, can we thus please move the fuck on in a book purportedly about the phenomenon of menstruation itself? Like seriously, the book's conclusion all but argues women seeking information about their own bodies should first receive a class on the eugenic past of gynaecology to... create a better, more inclusive future (I guess). How about... no ? Just give me the fucking science already!
b) Which means there was also very little actual freaking science in this thing – medical or otherwise. The author tried to tackle way too many research angles (biology, anthropology, sociology, public health policy, social justice) over the span of a relatively short text, and failed to properly delve into any of them as a result. I learned next-to-nothing of note in this book (with regards to the perception of menstruation in other cultures, or the actual biology of menstruation, in relation to things like stress for instance) – it was the very incarnation of 'spread too thin' superficiality.
c) This is also because – and tying back to my first point – the author wasted way too many pages writing what essentially amounted to a political op-ed, pamphlet, manifesto, what have you... instead of an actual pop-science book.
d) Additionally, and this hits more personally, I'll admit: the section of the book that dealt with the long-term physiological impact of trauma left a very bad taste in my mouth. Yes, broader sociological factors impact individual experiences of adversity and/or trauma, but 'fighting the power' won't fucking change the fact I was abused, and raped, by individuals, and that these experiences impacted both my mind, and female body, as an individual victim. So I don't know what the author's fucking point was in contesting the importance of considering trauma in the assessment of a person's health issues. Especially since she disclosed, in her introduction, the fact she is also a victim of SA.
e) The simple fact is the book suffers from its obsession with 'identity politics/wokeness'. I always feel so freaking weird with this stuff because I consider myself a feminist, anti-racist, unspecifiedly leftist, and an environmentalist. But this... this stuff just falls into the most off-putting kind of un-nuanced, untethered, black and white thinking – blegh. I mean the book literally mentions the 'myth of personal responsibility'. Thing is: how the actual fuck is this a myth though? I get, on some level, that the author – probably – simply meant that, in this day and age of neoliberal (and still androcratic) capitalism, emphasis isn't sufficiently placed on collective (and institutional) responsibility. But why oh why this over-correction to the opposite extreme? Why does it always have to be a freaking either/or with these people?! It's both , for fuck's sake. Anyways, semi-off topic rant over.
In conclusion: this book was terrible. Read Caroline Criado Perez' Invisible Women for an infinitely better book about what I... think this one was trying to go for. And, well, something else to learn about the actual science of menstruation I guess. :/
Rant from the 17th of March 2024:
Okay I'm DNFing this one.
I won't give a rating, to try and remain fair, but holy crap am I angry.
31 pages in and the author is still harping on about 'identity politics', the Great Evils™ of the history of anthropology and gynaecology; going on completely unnecessary tangents about DSDs, and self-flagellating for being – shock horror – a 'White Cis Woman™'. Oh, and also about how she's 'doing the Lady's work by employing "feminist" methodology. No, madam, you are not; what you described there is simply called epistemology! Also congrats to the author for finally making me feel embarrassed to share the label of 'feminist' with the likes of her. 🥲
Then of course, there's the 'people who menstruate' bullshit that made me want to shoot myself. And it's hilarious, too, because the words 'women' and 'girls' were also used... so t'was all one giant, garbled mess. 🫠
Like seriously: is this what gynocentric non-fiction publishing is, just, going to be for the next couple of decades, until the 'Murican-centric Woke Wars calm the fuck down? It's bloody infuriating to me I can't read a book, and learn cool new facts about a central function of my female (yes, I said it, it's female, fucking deal with it genderists) body without being pelted in the face with nauseating, self-hating, virtue-signalling, woke punditry, and yes, anti-feminist, sexist and misogynistic female erasure. God fucking damn it.
The editors literally could've written in 'women*' instead of 'people who menstruate' (🤮) and have a footnote explaining the asterisk included trans-masc peeps. Or, they could've written in 'female humans', or 'women and trans-masc persons'. Any one of those options would've taken up less space, less ink, and... isn't saving on paper all the rage now in publishing, in any case, hmm? But nah: why do any of that when you can just reduce women to a function of their body? Whilst leaving men as, well... men, of fucking course. Can't possibly call men 'people who have testicles', amirite? 🙄
This author has absolutely no business calling herself a feminist (in this book at least, sorry not sorry), when she clearly doesn't understand feminist theory 101. 'People who menstruate have historically been controlled, with regards to their fertility, by people who don't menstruate', yes, you ---, that's men/male humans, as a class exploiting women/female humans, as a class for their reproductive labour! Jesus fucking christ this is the most basic you can freaking get in terms of feminist analysis! This is precisely what radical feminists have been pointing to for the past 20+ years: this Orwellian language capture prevents us from even naming the problem and discussing the roots of sex-based oppression!!! But of course, anti-racists and, say, marxists, can keep discussing their axes of material oppression just fine... it's women, per usual, who have to give in to accommodate the whims of others. Fuck our lives, I guess.
Sex is a designation that often has to do with a person's gonads, genitals, and/or sex chromosomes, whereas gender refers more to shared cultural experiences or identity. Yet both are neither solely biological nor solely cultural, and it would be scientifically inaccurate to try to make categories for sex or gender binary.
Okay, so you don't understand reproductive, and/or evolutionary biology, got it. And you don't understand feminist theory/analysis, got it. ✅
{...} gender inequality is a series of social practices unrelated to biology that has biological consequences.
Okay you definitely don't even remotely understand feminist theory/analysis, got it! ✅
And yes, this is 'Murican-centric as all hell. Harping on about white privilege, slavery, eugenics and how those things shaped the emergence of gynaecology in North America (and not a peep about how midwives were pushed away from female medicine in Europe itself, of course). Yes, those things are horrible parts of history, but again: if I wanted to read about the influence of imperialism, colonialism, etc... on the development of gynaecological medicine, I'd go read a book specifically about that! As it stands: this grovelling virtue-signalling gave me second-hand embarrassment, I swear to the bloody gods.
All I wanted was to learn about menstruation, without being made to feel 'woman', and 'female', are dirty words. Is that really too much to ask?! 😫
So please, if anyone knows (of) a book about the current science of menstruation that doesn't stoop to this level of abject muppetry, do let me know. 'Cause I just can't with this one.
The Blade Itself by Joe Abercrombie
adventurous
dark
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
Discussion of The First Law: https://youtu.be/102HBqnE2u0.
Potentially mildly unpopular opinion incoming: The Blade Itself was just fine... to reasonably good in places. 😆 It was good enough, at least, that I'll read the rest of the trilogy (and also drawing pairs up nicely with audiobooks so there's that lmao).
Prose and narration:
It was... fine. I didn't notice anything particularly noteworthy about it, good or bad, so that's that. I agree with the reader consensus that Steven Pacey does a really good job narrating this story. However: he did way too many different accents across different geographical areas, in the sense that it made the world-building feel even worse than it was.
World-building:
Speaking of which: the world-building was garbage, sorry not sorry. Just generic as fuck 'fantasylandia' stuff that left me without any real sense of place or culture (or magic really). I'm aware The Blade Itself is the first book in a trilogy, but even still... what there was, in terms of world-building, was very poor for the first entry in a fantasy series. And yes, I'm aware world-building isn't supposed to be First Law's forte. In fact, that's the reason I'd initially decided not to read it, but damn my ex and his recommendations I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Theming:
Nothing of substance to report so far.
Character work:
Okay, so this is supposedly First Law's selling point. I'm not a character-driven reader, but once gain damn my ex and his recommendations I guess, and also I can still enjoy good character work in fiction, if I can connect to it somehow. What I got in The Blade Itself was, well, just fine, to reasonably good. But it certainly didn't blow my mind or anything, though with this specific aspect I will give the series the benefit of the doubt until... let's say I'm through with book two.
I guess I found Glokta somewhat interesting (a disfigured character with chronic pain, alright, though he also felt like a less engaging attempt at a Tyrion Lannister-type character), and I kind of liked Bayaz (Gandalf with extra spice), because... wise old wizards with sass appeal to me for whatever reason. Jezal can get fucked. Logen and his experience of cultural clash (such as it was) offered a bit of comic relief, but otherwise didn't really make me feel anything. And Ferro was... ugh. I'm sorry, I just couldn't with her French accent, it was so cringe to me. 😭 Oh, actually I kinda liked the West siblings as well – too bad they were secondary characters!
Seriously though, I can't help but think: "yeah, no, ASOIAF did it better, even if I only consider A Game of Thrones". 😅
Plot and pacing:
Okay, so... no offence, but once I figured out the premise of The Blade Itself essentially functions as 'The Fellowship of the Ring but edgy subverted grimdark' (and honestly it wasn't even that dark), it felt too obvious to me. Like it was laid on a little too thickly, in a way? And I didn't particularly vibe with that. But it wasn't bad either, so eh, whatever. The pacing, however... just, why was this book 650 pages? The Blade Itself conceptually works as a take, of sorts, on Fellowship, sure, but practically speaking it feels like one giant prologue. Set-up, of this kind, that near exclusively focuses on characters – most of which I didn't truly care about – does not agree with my brain, let me tell ya'.
And then, it did that thing wherein stories bumble forward at a snail's leisurely pace, only to end up going: "fuck it, YOLO", in their penultimate and/or final segments. Wow, that escalated quickly... struck again. But I will say this: whilst I didn't find Abercrombie's writing particularly funny – despite many fan's assertions that First Law is often very freaking funny indeed – that last segment featured a scene that was so absurdly 'extra' with its violence, it had me in stitches.So first we had Logen going berserker mode in Ferro's company, that was one thing. But then... we had Bayaz strolling buck naked out of the bath, going all: "YOU SHALL NOT PASS! MY PATIENCE IS AT AN END!", and exploding a bruv with a finger snap. Them bitches went SUPER SAYAN, gah dayum! 🤣
Potentially mildly unpopular opinion incoming: The Blade Itself was just fine... to reasonably good in places. 😆 It was good enough, at least, that I'll read the rest of the trilogy (and also drawing pairs up nicely with audiobooks so there's that lmao).
Prose and narration:
It was... fine. I didn't notice anything particularly noteworthy about it, good or bad, so that's that. I agree with the reader consensus that Steven Pacey does a really good job narrating this story. However: he did way too many different accents across different geographical areas, in the sense that it made the world-building feel even worse than it was.
World-building:
Speaking of which: the world-building was garbage, sorry not sorry. Just generic as fuck 'fantasylandia' stuff that left me without any real sense of place or culture (or magic really). I'm aware The Blade Itself is the first book in a trilogy, but even still... what there was, in terms of world-building, was very poor for the first entry in a fantasy series. And yes, I'm aware world-building isn't supposed to be First Law's forte. In fact, that's the reason I'd initially decided not to read it, but damn my ex and his recommendations I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Theming:
Nothing of substance to report so far.
Character work:
Okay, so this is supposedly First Law's selling point. I'm not a character-driven reader, but once gain damn my ex and his recommendations I guess, and also I can still enjoy good character work in fiction, if I can connect to it somehow. What I got in The Blade Itself was, well, just fine, to reasonably good. But it certainly didn't blow my mind or anything, though with this specific aspect I will give the series the benefit of the doubt until... let's say I'm through with book two.
I guess I found Glokta somewhat interesting (a disfigured character with chronic pain, alright, though he also felt like a less engaging attempt at a Tyrion Lannister-type character), and I kind of liked Bayaz (Gandalf with extra spice), because... wise old wizards with sass appeal to me for whatever reason. Jezal can get fucked. Logen and his experience of cultural clash (such as it was) offered a bit of comic relief, but otherwise didn't really make me feel anything. And Ferro was... ugh. I'm sorry, I just couldn't with her French accent, it was so cringe to me. 😭 Oh, actually I kinda liked the West siblings as well – too bad they were secondary characters!
Seriously though, I can't help but think: "yeah, no, ASOIAF did it better, even if I only consider A Game of Thrones". 😅
Plot and pacing:
Okay, so... no offence, but once I figured out the premise of The Blade Itself essentially functions as 'The Fellowship of the Ring but edgy subverted grimdark' (and honestly it wasn't even that dark), it felt too obvious to me. Like it was laid on a little too thickly, in a way? And I didn't particularly vibe with that. But it wasn't bad either, so eh, whatever. The pacing, however... just, why was this book 650 pages? The Blade Itself conceptually works as a take, of sorts, on Fellowship, sure, but practically speaking it feels like one giant prologue. Set-up, of this kind, that near exclusively focuses on characters – most of which I didn't truly care about – does not agree with my brain, let me tell ya'.
And then, it did that thing wherein stories bumble forward at a snail's leisurely pace, only to end up going: "fuck it, YOLO", in their penultimate and/or final segments. Wow, that escalated quickly... struck again. But I will say this: whilst I didn't find Abercrombie's writing particularly funny – despite many fan's assertions that First Law is often very freaking funny indeed – that last segment featured a scene that was so absurdly 'extra' with its violence, it had me in stitches.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Torture, Violence
Botanical Curses and Poisons: The Shadow-Lives of Plants by Fez Inkwright
informative
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
Like the recently read Witch's Forest, Botanical Curses and Poisons is essentially a book about botany (or mycology) and ethnobotany (or ethnomycology). This one, however, also specifically focuses on poisonous plants, and plants that have traditionally been associated with gloomy and/or 'spoopy' things like death, illness, heartbreak, witchcraft, demons, ghosts, the Devil, etc...
The book's first section features an introduction and what I'll call general information chapters; the second presents a wide array of plant (and some fungal) species in alphabetical order. And it also features simple, but very nice line drawing illustrations of said plant (or fungal) species.
I really enjoyed this publication; I found it pretty comprehensive in terms of the information that was given for each species (or genus), and in terms of the very scope of species that were present in it. It was just really interesting and pleasant to read, and I'd thus very confidently recommend it to botanical (and fungal to a lesser extent) folklore enthusiasts – especially, once again, if they specifically enjoy 'spoopy' folklore! 😄
The book's first section features an introduction and what I'll call general information chapters; the second presents a wide array of plant (and some fungal) species in alphabetical order. And it also features simple, but very nice line drawing illustrations of said plant (or fungal) species.
I really enjoyed this publication; I found it pretty comprehensive in terms of the information that was given for each species (or genus), and in terms of the very scope of species that were present in it. It was just really interesting and pleasant to read, and I'd thus very confidently recommend it to botanical (and fungal to a lesser extent) folklore enthusiasts – especially, once again, if they specifically enjoy 'spoopy' folklore! 😄
Kew: the Witch's Forest: Trees in Magic, Folklore and Traditional Remedies by Sandra Lawrence
informative
inspiring
relaxing
medium-paced
3.75
This very nicely illustrated publication about trees in culture and folklore completes the triangle started, then continued, by Sandra Lawrence's other two book about ethnobotany, and ethnomycology, The Witch's Forest and The Magic of Mushrooms. Like its predecessrs, Witch's Forest is divided into different thematic chapters, and presents both general information about the botany, and ethnobotany, of trees as a whole, and more precise information about different species of trees.
Given the vastness of this topic – and as compared to Ms Lawrence's two other books – I was actually more satisfied, overall, with the balance this one struck between pure botany and folklore. I'd also argue it featured a little more general information than its predecessors, but I actually liked this. Outside of that, this book will essentially give you what it says on the tin, and I would thus recommend it to both botany and ethnobotany enthusiasts alike – just like I did Ms Lawrence's two other books!
PS: I am a teensy bit salty Avalon wasn't mentioned in relation to apple trees though...
Given the vastness of this topic – and as compared to Ms Lawrence's two other books – I was actually more satisfied, overall, with the balance this one struck between pure botany and folklore. I'd also argue it featured a little more general information than its predecessors, but I actually liked this. Outside of that, this book will essentially give you what it says on the tin, and I would thus recommend it to both botany and ethnobotany enthusiasts alike – just like I did Ms Lawrence's two other books!
PS: I am a teensy bit salty Avalon wasn't mentioned in relation to apple trees though...
Pokebutt Go: Pounded By 'Em All by Chuck Tingle
funny
relaxing
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.0
More accurate rating: 6 butts/10.
Didn't find this one as funny as Pounded by the Pound, but it still got a couple of giggles out of me. 😆
Didn't find this one as funny as Pounded by the Pound, but it still got a couple of giggles out of me. 😆
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual content
Pounded By The Pound: Turned Gay By The Socioeconomic Implications Of Britain Leaving The European Union by Chuck Tingle
funny
relaxing
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.75
More accurate rating: 7.5 butts/10.
This was legitimately hilarious. Not erotic in the slightest (for my largely straight female arse lol), but just absurdly funny. Also, point for acknowledging the inherent fuckery of time travelling paradoxes, since a lot of 'serious SF' can't even manage that! Like, sincerely: respect. 😂
This was legitimately hilarious. Not erotic in the slightest (for my largely straight female arse lol), but just absurdly funny. Also, point for acknowledging the inherent fuckery of time travelling paradoxes, since a lot of 'serious SF' can't even manage that! Like, sincerely: respect. 😂
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual content
Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros
adventurous
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.75
Okay, honestly, this 'dragon airforce academy romantasy romp' wasn't all that bad, given I fully expected this to be a trash fire of cringe. There certainly was cringe, don't get me wrong and, overall, I can't consider this novel anything more than serviceably mediocre. But given my personal tastes and preferences, given it is soooooo easy to miss the mark, hard, when writing sex and "romance", and given Fourth Wing is a 'TikTok sensation romantasy' (no I don't care if that sounds too snooty, I stand by it 😆)... this could have been an infinitely worse reading (or rather listening in this case) experience for me.
The Good:
The world-building wasn't anything to write home about, that's for sure, but Fourth Wing does have dragons, and I liked the (main, not that there were many with actual presence) dragon characters: Tairn (the grumpy old guy dragon) and Andarna (the sweet and naive girl dragon).
I don't know if Ms Yarros has read The Chronicles of Pern, but her story also features the whole 'when dragons go into mating lust, their riders feel it too' mechanic. That being said, Fourth Wing pleasantly surprised me with its take on it. Indeed, at one point, our male MC, Xaden, actually stops himself from progressing a physically intimate encounter with our female MC, Violet, because they are both 'under the influence' of draconic lust, and consent couldn't thus be meaningfully obtained. I retain a certain fondness for the world of Pern and its dragons, but McCaffrey definitely had a problem with sex, "romance" and consent in her books. So point goes to Yarros with this one! (I mean it's the bare fucking minimum, really, but still).
There were magic tattoos, kind of, in Fourth Wing, and I thought that was neat.
The Bad:
The Instalove™, kind of. Fourth Wing's "romance" started with huge amounts of lust; I'm demisexual so I don't really 'get' that, but I know it's a real thing for most people, so fine, whatever. This was followed by an attempt at weaving in a thread of friendship, of proper emotional intimacy... that quickly shot up into the sky like a dragon on crack. All of a sudden, our MCs started expressing the grandest of love feelz that ever feeled, and I was like:
Thanks, I hated it. It's funny though because, conversely, I thought the characters took a tediously long time to get down to actually banging – given, once again, the unbridled on-page thirst I had to trudge through to get there. I guess this in-between shit just isn't for me: either give me straight up erotica, or the believably gradual development of an actual loving relationship. Not this bullshit, immature: "Oh naur I wanna fuck him so bayd but I can't fuck him even though he's so gawddayum hawt!!" 😫 Then they fuck and it's like bam: "Ermagerd I LOVE HIM SOOOO MUCH DOE". Kill me now.
Because yeah, did I mention I found Violet's thirst aggravatingly embarrassing? Bish sounded like a horny 16 year-old, when she was purportedly twenty (and perhaps I've simply reached the age at which it has become all too bleedingly obvious humans under the age of 25 do not count as real adults 🤣). Like dayum woman keep it in your pants and... I don't know, go clean the kitchen, or read, or if you really can't handle the hornies, go to your bedroom and rub one out, christ. Like if you're getting that flustered over 'man flesh' whilst also having your limb dislocated (or something, Violet has EDS apparently) during a sparring match, or whatever it was: you have a problem, honey.
The tonal, or setting, dissonance in Fourth Wing was so. Freaking. Weird. I swear to the bloody gods, all the Basgiath cadets used what I'm going to call "edgy gamer and/or Zoomer Internet speak". In a world with magic, dragons, and gryphons... but without electricity or industrialised automation – that I could tell at any rate. A couple of female cadets also had pink or aqua hair... Now I'm not saying a secondary world fantasy story automatically has to take place in a pseudo-High Middle Ages, or Early Modern Period setting, with accompanying 'Ye Olde Speake'. But like... it just didn't work here. At all. It broke my immersion so bloody hard, I couldn't help but guffaw at the sheer silliness of hearing a dragon rider go: "I owned that dude!" (or something to that effect, but the expression "owned" was definitely used).
The Whatever:
The one and a half to two sex scenes were decently written, in my extra subjective opinion (given it is, after all, the seggs we're talking about). Although... what's with the obsession with portraying heterosexual lovers wanting to go deeper, and deeper, and deeper... Like, I can sort of get it. But also, this was written by a woman: surely she knows vaginas aren't, uhm, bottomless? I know ya don't want to ruin the perfect fantasy of (this kind of) a sex scene, but in reality, ahem, the female body has limitations, just sayin'. Just... fucking ouch man. 😅
Gryphons could've used more love, and thus page-time, CMV.
Funny anecdote time:
I talked about this one with my bf, and his legit reaction at hearing Xaden's name: "Well, there's your problem!" 🤣 A male friend also laughed when I shared that (rather harmless, all things considered) tidbit of information. The Edgy Bad Boy™ trope was also hilariously obvious to them both, and my friend basically accurately described Xaden's physical appearance just from the bare bones context I gave him. 😝
The Good:
The world-building wasn't anything to write home about, that's for sure, but Fourth Wing does have dragons, and I liked the (main, not that there were many with actual presence) dragon characters: Tairn (the grumpy old guy dragon) and Andarna (the sweet and naive girl dragon).
I don't know if Ms Yarros has read The Chronicles of Pern, but her story also features the whole 'when dragons go into mating lust, their riders feel it too' mechanic. That being said, Fourth Wing pleasantly surprised me with its take on it. Indeed, at one point, our male MC, Xaden, actually stops himself from progressing a physically intimate encounter with our female MC, Violet, because they are both 'under the influence' of draconic lust, and consent couldn't thus be meaningfully obtained. I retain a certain fondness for the world of Pern and its dragons, but McCaffrey definitely had a problem with sex, "romance" and consent in her books. So point goes to Yarros with this one! (I mean it's the bare fucking minimum, really, but still).
There were magic tattoos, kind of, in Fourth Wing, and I thought that was neat.
The Bad:
The Instalove™, kind of. Fourth Wing's "romance" started with huge amounts of lust; I'm demisexual so I don't really 'get' that, but I know it's a real thing for most people, so fine, whatever. This was followed by an attempt at weaving in a thread of friendship, of proper emotional intimacy... that quickly shot up into the sky like a dragon on crack. All of a sudden, our MCs started expressing the grandest of love feelz that ever feeled, and I was like:
Thanks, I hated it. It's funny though because, conversely, I thought the characters took a tediously long time to get down to actually banging – given, once again, the unbridled on-page thirst I had to trudge through to get there. I guess this in-between shit just isn't for me: either give me straight up erotica, or the believably gradual development of an actual loving relationship. Not this bullshit, immature: "Oh naur I wanna fuck him so bayd but I can't fuck him even though he's so gawddayum hawt!!" 😫 Then they fuck and it's like bam: "Ermagerd I LOVE HIM SOOOO MUCH DOE". Kill me now.
Because yeah, did I mention I found Violet's thirst aggravatingly embarrassing? Bish sounded like a horny 16 year-old, when she was purportedly twenty (and perhaps I've simply reached the age at which it has become all too bleedingly obvious humans under the age of 25 do not count as real adults 🤣). Like dayum woman keep it in your pants and... I don't know, go clean the kitchen, or read, or if you really can't handle the hornies, go to your bedroom and rub one out, christ. Like if you're getting that flustered over 'man flesh' whilst also having your limb dislocated (or something, Violet has EDS apparently) during a sparring match, or whatever it was: you have a problem, honey.
The tonal, or setting, dissonance in Fourth Wing was so. Freaking. Weird. I swear to the bloody gods, all the Basgiath cadets used what I'm going to call "edgy gamer and/or Zoomer Internet speak". In a world with magic, dragons, and gryphons... but without electricity or industrialised automation – that I could tell at any rate. A couple of female cadets also had pink or aqua hair... Now I'm not saying a secondary world fantasy story automatically has to take place in a pseudo-High Middle Ages, or Early Modern Period setting, with accompanying 'Ye Olde Speake'. But like... it just didn't work here. At all. It broke my immersion so bloody hard, I couldn't help but guffaw at the sheer silliness of hearing a dragon rider go: "I owned that dude!" (or something to that effect, but the expression "owned" was definitely used).
The Whatever:
The one and a half to two sex scenes were decently written, in my extra subjective opinion (given it is, after all, the seggs we're talking about). Although... what's with the obsession with portraying heterosexual lovers wanting to go deeper, and deeper, and deeper... Like, I can sort of get it. But also, this was written by a woman: surely she knows vaginas aren't, uhm, bottomless? I know ya don't want to ruin the perfect fantasy of (this kind of) a sex scene, but in reality, ahem, the female body has limitations, just sayin'. Just... fucking ouch man. 😅
Gryphons could've used more love, and thus page-time, CMV.
Funny anecdote time:
I talked about this one with my bf, and his legit reaction at hearing Xaden's name: "Well, there's your problem!" 🤣 A male friend also laughed when I shared that (rather harmless, all things considered) tidbit of information. The Edgy Bad Boy™ trope was also hilariously obvious to them both, and my friend basically accurately described Xaden's physical appearance just from the bare bones context I gave him. 😝
Content Warnings
Moderate: Sexual content
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
That was very meh.
I found this great Classic of (Russian) literature very underwhelming, honestly. Now, I didn't expect to love it either but, I don't know, I guess I assumed it would at least be a... solid 7/10? As it stands, I felt mostly bored going through Crime and Punishment.
I basically read this on 'indirect recommendation' from my ex, and it certainly didn't help that Crime and Punishment's main character, one Raskolnikov (who commits a crime and – not really spoilers – does eventually get punished for it, in a couple of different ways *shocked Pikachu face*) reminded me of my ex (in the midst of cruel-spirited psychosis) a little – *ahem*.
That made me a little sad, yes. But, regardless: I expected deeper psychological exploration and sociological commentary from this one, and it under-delivered. It's not, to be clear, that it was absent, or that superficial, but more that I expected, well, more. Given not only Crime and Punishment's Classic status, but the fact it gets promoted as one of the best novels of all time, a work of Genius™, and all the usual rigamarole. I can well understand this kind of story, and its contents (it did feature a somewhat surprising amount of graphic, inner and external violence, or passion, for a 19th century novel) must have been boundary-pushing for its time (or maybe even that is overstated, I'm not sure). But then that means Crime and Punishment is, for me, more of a 'historical document' type classic, and less of an 'impactful story that transcends time and culture' type one.
I'm also fairly tired of more-unsympathetic-than-not, tortured Menz™ in literature (and other storytelling media and art forms). Quentin Coldwater or, say, Kvothe types are the furthest I'll go with that, because with those kinds of characters I can, at least, still genuinely see and feel a measure of character goodness, a measure of 'kindred spirit-ness'... or relate on grounds of neurodiversity, mental illness and/or trauma. The subtly different archetype Raskolnikov belongs to, however, just feels tedious to me – though I'll concede he's not the worst I've seen of it, thank the gods.
Crime and Punishment's socio-philosophical commentary wasn't worthless, it just wasn't that good. The whole proto-übermensch schtick was... eh, whatever. I've seen it before (and discussed in a more engaging fashion) but points, I guess, to Dostoevsky for seniority here. That one bit about 'commune life' was mildly interesting to me – especially taking historical context into account. The Christian morality and redemption motif, however, I just do not, and did not give a crap about, end of story.
I didn't much care for the high-strung familial drama, and the Svidrigailov plot line seemed... rather pointless to me? No, seriously, what was that about?! Also, was I meant to understand bruv as a child molester of some sort? Was he meant to offer a 'compare and contrast' parable-type "Gotcha!" to Raskolnikov?
And then, there was the absolute BS Sofya-Raskolnikov pseudo-"romance". Omfg, even Dostoevsky indulged in 'wow that escalated quickly' proto-Instalove™. Fuck off. 😂 I hate that shit, wherever it pops up. It was bad enough having Rasko appeal to Sofya's empathy on the grounds of shared "Sinnerhood", given she prostitutes herself to provide for her step-family. Though fine, that was understandable given historical context (I still hated it though). No, she decided to just follow Rasko, come what may, because... Christian redemption reasons?! And the book literally ended with Rasko magically seeing the light (kind of), and them making these grand declarations of deep love towards one another, mostly out of the blue.
What. The. Actual. Fuck. I found most of Crime and Punishment fine to decent, but that ending was piping hot garbage.
PS: and to reiterate, it's not that deep, because at the end of the day – and regardless of personal moral failings – Raskolnikov was clearly in need of proper psychiatric care. 🙃
I found this great Classic of (Russian) literature very underwhelming, honestly. Now, I didn't expect to love it either but, I don't know, I guess I assumed it would at least be a... solid 7/10? As it stands, I felt mostly bored going through Crime and Punishment.
I basically read this on 'indirect recommendation' from my ex, and it certainly didn't help that Crime and Punishment's main character, one Raskolnikov (who commits a crime and – not really spoilers – does eventually get punished for it, in a couple of different ways *shocked Pikachu face*) reminded me of my ex (in the midst of cruel-spirited psychosis) a little – *ahem*.
That made me a little sad, yes. But, regardless: I expected deeper psychological exploration and sociological commentary from this one, and it under-delivered. It's not, to be clear, that it was absent, or that superficial, but more that I expected, well, more. Given not only Crime and Punishment's Classic status, but the fact it gets promoted as one of the best novels of all time, a work of Genius™, and all the usual rigamarole. I can well understand this kind of story, and its contents (it did feature a somewhat surprising amount of graphic, inner and external violence, or passion, for a 19th century novel) must have been boundary-pushing for its time (or maybe even that is overstated, I'm not sure). But then that means Crime and Punishment is, for me, more of a 'historical document' type classic, and less of an 'impactful story that transcends time and culture' type one.
I'm also fairly tired of more-unsympathetic-than-not, tortured Menz™ in literature (and other storytelling media and art forms). Quentin Coldwater or, say, Kvothe types are the furthest I'll go with that, because with those kinds of characters I can, at least, still genuinely see and feel a measure of character goodness, a measure of 'kindred spirit-ness'... or relate on grounds of neurodiversity, mental illness and/or trauma. The subtly different archetype Raskolnikov belongs to, however, just feels tedious to me – though I'll concede he's not the worst I've seen of it, thank the gods.
Crime and Punishment's socio-philosophical commentary wasn't worthless, it just wasn't that good. The whole proto-übermensch schtick was... eh, whatever. I've seen it before (and discussed in a more engaging fashion) but points, I guess, to Dostoevsky for seniority here. That one bit about 'commune life' was mildly interesting to me – especially taking historical context into account. The Christian morality and redemption motif, however, I just do not, and did not give a crap about, end of story.
I didn't much care for the high-strung familial drama, and the Svidrigailov plot line seemed... rather pointless to me? No, seriously, what was that about?! Also, was I meant to understand bruv as a child molester of some sort? Was he meant to offer a 'compare and contrast' parable-type "Gotcha!" to Raskolnikov?
And then, there was the absolute BS Sofya-Raskolnikov pseudo-"romance". Omfg, even Dostoevsky indulged in 'wow that escalated quickly' proto-Instalove™. Fuck off. 😂 I hate that shit, wherever it pops up. It was bad enough having Rasko appeal to Sofya's empathy on the grounds of shared "Sinnerhood", given she prostitutes herself to provide for her step-family. Though fine, that was understandable given historical context (I still hated it though). No, she decided to just follow Rasko, come what may, because... Christian redemption reasons?! And the book literally ended with Rasko magically seeing the light (kind of), and them making these grand declarations of deep love towards one another, mostly out of the blue.
What. The. Actual. Fuck. I found most of Crime and Punishment fine to decent, but that ending was piping hot garbage.
PS: and to reiterate, it's not that deep, because at the end of the day – and regardless of personal moral failings – Raskolnikov was clearly in need of proper psychiatric care. 🙃
Content Warnings
Minor: Murder
The murder is unusually graphic for a 19th century novel, hence noteworthy.
Time to Think: The Inside Story of the Collapse of the Tavistock's Gender Service for Children by Hannah Barnes
informative
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.25
I found this account of (to put it simply): "what went wrong with the GIDS at the Tavistock Clinic" a very thorough, engaging, worrying and thought-provoking piece of investigative journalism. Full of compassion, and a deep desire to understand, as well.
It obviously asks a lot of questions regarding the aetiology, and more importantly safety and ethics of the currently dominant, affirmative and medicalising model of treatment for gender/sex dysphoria in children and adolescents. And I'll add, for my part, that I think it's a disgrace the 'political' climate around this topic, this issue, has become so fraught the author struggled to find a publisher for her genuinely curious and caring inquiry.
But beyond the fact this book certainly adds to society's ongoing conversation, debate, fight, whatever you want to call it, regarding the problems with gender identity ideology, it is also, without a doubt, an account of the limitations of, and fuck-ups these can lead to in broader psychiatric care. In medical care as a whole, really. What happened with GIDS isn't just a story about (potentially mis-) treating gender dysphoria in minors. It is a story about what happens to the most vulnerable of patients, of distressed individuals, when medical institutions lack proper mechanisms of oversight, safeguarding... and freaking data-gathering. Honestly, that's one of the things that shocked me the most, by far: the fact GIDS or the Tavistock just... didn't carry out any kind of proper data gathering and analysis. Christ.
It is also a story about what happens when medical treatments aren't properly presented as being experimental – because they lack a solid base of actual evidence. And about what happens when socialised healthcare lacks the necessary funding to function optimally and, crucially, in the best interest of all patients. For fuck's sake, if there is one thing that should not experience budget cuts, it's freaking healthcare!
So yes, I found this an important piece of journalism, not just because I'm a gender-critical feminist, but because I am someone who has had extensive experience with under-funded, overloaded, and also 'ideologically-captured' (by, in my case, Freudo-Lacanian psychoanalysis) mental health care – and suffered harm as a result.
It obviously asks a lot of questions regarding the aetiology, and more importantly safety and ethics of the currently dominant, affirmative and medicalising model of treatment for gender/sex dysphoria in children and adolescents. And I'll add, for my part, that I think it's a disgrace the 'political' climate around this topic, this issue, has become so fraught the author struggled to find a publisher for her genuinely curious and caring inquiry.
But beyond the fact this book certainly adds to society's ongoing conversation, debate, fight, whatever you want to call it, regarding the problems with gender identity ideology, it is also, without a doubt, an account of the limitations of, and fuck-ups these can lead to in broader psychiatric care. In medical care as a whole, really. What happened with GIDS isn't just a story about (potentially mis-) treating gender dysphoria in minors. It is a story about what happens to the most vulnerable of patients, of distressed individuals, when medical institutions lack proper mechanisms of oversight, safeguarding... and freaking data-gathering. Honestly, that's one of the things that shocked me the most, by far: the fact GIDS or the Tavistock just... didn't carry out any kind of proper data gathering and analysis. Christ.
It is also a story about what happens when medical treatments aren't properly presented as being experimental – because they lack a solid base of actual evidence. And about what happens when socialised healthcare lacks the necessary funding to function optimally and, crucially, in the best interest of all patients. For fuck's sake, if there is one thing that should not experience budget cuts, it's freaking healthcare!
So yes, I found this an important piece of journalism, not just because I'm a gender-critical feminist, but because I am someone who has had extensive experience with under-funded, overloaded, and also 'ideologically-captured' (by, in my case, Freudo-Lacanian psychoanalysis) mental health care – and suffered harm as a result.
Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
challenging
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
1.75
Fuck this book. My brain hurts.
Several days later...
My brain still hurts, but I shall do my best to structure my thoughts and feelings about this bish into a semi-coherent review.
Premise:
Sike! Just kidding, this fucker doesn't really have a plot.
But fiiiiiiine...
-> Ya got Harold (yes, seriously) Incandenza, a teen prodigy studying at a tennis academy founded by his father, bopping along with his friends and getting addicted to cannabis.
-> Ya got the rest of the Incandenza family doing stuff and things.
-> Ya got a bunch of drug addicts doing drugs, fucking up their lives because they do drugs, and trying to turn their lives around at the Ennet Recovery House, all more or less centring on a character named Don Gately.
-> Ya got a government agent from the US conversing (for way too long, holy shit, and over lots of separate chapters) with a double agent from a group of Quebec separatists, about the merits and demerits of 'Murican Freedom™, and how this all relates back to brain-washing (literally) entertainment.
And it's all more or less set in a quasi-dystopian near-future when bits of north-eastern America are no longer inhabited because... something to do with "nuclear" waste actually re-wilding shit à la Area X, kinda (if I got that right). And bits of Canada aren't really... independent anymore (if I got that right). Calendar years are sponsored by various brands because not-so-subtle theming on consumerism and entertainment (and addiction). The Internet isn't really a thing like it actually is in the real world, but nor does it actually resemble cyberpunk-ish propositions. Rather, people watch a lot of tailored content on 'teleputers', and that's about it.
Oh, and there's a fuck ton of endnotes, most of which are pointless (don't fucking @ me), given they just give you pharmaceutical information on various mood- and consciousness-altering substances (a fair few of which aren't even in circulation anymore, but whatevs).
Rambling thoughts (because why shouldn't they be giving the book itself is an abject rambling mess):
1) Plot, structure or rather lack thereof: I want to formally apologise to every book I ever criticised for their lack of proper and/or conventional structure. I was but a Sweet Summer Child who clearly didn't know what true chaos of form entailed in literature. Because holy shit: Infinite Jest, in my book, barely even qualifies as a novel. There is no real plot to speak of. The structure is a sprawling mess of indulgent excess. And no, I don't give a fuck that this was probably by design, and part of the supposed "point". This shit, right here, is why peeps make fun of 'Post-Modernism' in the Arts, gah dayum. Fiction literature is a storytelling art form: I will die on this (subjective, sure, but so what!) hill, and given Infinite Jest barely, just barely, tells a cogent and meaningful story, it barely qualifies as fiction literature, as a novel. That's just how it is for me.
It was a mess: nothing justified those 1400 pages. Because what little meaningful commentary, theming, emotionality there was in this text was completely obliterated by the sheer mass of "litbabble" inflating, bloating, padding it out. Reading Infinite Jest felt like I was being force-fed words! And it made me realise that 'Horseshoe Theory' can in fact be applied to literature: if flat and too-sparse writing seldom achieves much in terms of conveying ideas, emotions, meaning, what have you, neither does its indulgently, bloatedly excessive counterpart! I sure learned that the hard way... fuck me. 🥲
2) Prose, I guess: not that it was all bad in terms of prose? I'll give Wallace this: I can tell the man could, in fact, write, in the sense that he could competently, and more or less effectively at times, switch between different writing styles. But being able to do that doesn't mean one should just shove all of them in one book, and cut them up across wildly dissonant chapters like he did. The amount of tonal whiplash I experienced reading Infinite Jest was insane. Hell, the structural whiplash I experienced wasn't any better, to come back to that. Obscenely long walls of text –not to mention obscenely long fucking sentences – alternated with snappy dialogues, drug-fuelled internal monologues, email transcripts, serialised anecdotes and political meeting minutes. Just why the actual fuck was it written that way?! Yes, it did reek of "try-hardism" in places, sue me. I didn't even mind the vocabulary: it wasn't that advanced, all things considered, but like... why am I not bothered by this shit when Miéville or Nabokov does it, hmm? Because their vocabulary gets woven into their narratives in a way that feels seamless and organic!
3) Characters: I didn't care about anyone, or anything in Infinite Jest. What I find really bizarre, however, is that for something that is 1400 pages long, I found Infinite Jest's character work surprisingly superficial, across most of its protagonists. It's not that it was non-existent, or even bad per se, but more so that I expected a lot more depth given the sheer hugeness of this... 'pseudo-tale'.
4) World-building: this one is really freaking weird genre-wise. Infinite Jest primarily reads as general fiction, yes, but it is technically set in the near-future (as imagined in the 1980s/90s by Wallace), and features a North American landscape that is a little different from our own. And I think this genre-bending choice was, not only entirely unnecessary for the book's theming (such as I read it), but just... really poorly executed. Because it was under-developed, or rather developed in a way too narrow, and thus uncommitted fashion. I felt, at times, like I was reading dystopian or lite science-fiction that has aged really, and I mean really badly – think something rather mediocre written in, say, the 1960s. If you contrast this to the kind of mild and subtle world-building you find in Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale or Butler's Parable of the Sower, Infinite Jest doesn't come off as thoughtfully prescient, it comes off as incredibly clunky – even old-fashioned in some respects.
And I repeat, its theming did not need this weird, 'speculative literature-lite' framing. Or, conversely, if Wallace really wanted to play with the idea of dystopian 'entertainment-addiction', he should've committed more fully to sheer speculation because, as it stands, I'd argue freaking Brave New World does that shit way better, and in a much more concise, not to mention memorable, manner. Basically, Wallace's chonker suffers from vaguely residing in that wishy-washy nothing genre-space 'magically realist' novels occupy.
5) Theming: the only merit I found in Infinite Jest (because no, it wasn't all negative, hence the two stars) were its bits of commentary, theming... on addiction. And, sure, linked to that: mental illness, despair, and entertainment – kind of. I say 'kind of' because, really, at the end of the day, entertainment itself is critiqued through the lens of addiction, and the destruction it wreaks on individuals and, fine, society with regards to questions of individual freedom, responsibility, etc... Though really, I think the individual tragedy of addiction is what comes through the text the most.
And yes, I'm aware this, alongside depression, is something with which Wallace was intimately familiar. This is probably why the latter point comes through the text as strongly as it does: as a fellow mental illness sufferer, I could definitely tell Wallace wrote a lot of the addiction and depression stuff straight from the source of painful experience. And as it so happens... the best parts, by lightyears, of the book were indeed (some of) those that dealt with the horror of addiction, and/or the agony of severe depression.
What maddens me, however, is that so much of that was then lost in the freaking sauce of the book's inherent, indulgent excess. And I'm left with this question: was the "Haha, gotchu!" aspect of the book – reflecting the indulgent excess of addiction by being, itself, indulgently excessive in style – really worth it, given I felt it took away from its thematic and emotional impact? I really don't think so. It's near impossible to pull off this kind of... meta-critique (I don't think that's the right concept, but fuck it) because, 90% of the time, you just end up reifying the thing you're trying to criticise. And I just don't think Wallace pulled it off.
The ending pissed me off. I'm not sure I fully "got it", but whatever, I was so fucking done with this bish. No, I didn't read every single endnote, because fuck off with that honestly and, quite frankly, if you think that emulates the 'feeling of a tennis match': a) you've never actually watched tennis, and/or b) you've never played tennis. I actually have played tennis, and seen my fair share of tennis because my parents watched a lot of it on telly. Guess what: tennis goes pretty freaking fast. But you know what doesn't go pretty freaking fast? Me having to take 10 to 20 fucking minutes to read a goddamn endnote that takes me out of the main text! So I call massive bullshit.
I was originally recommended Infinite Jest by my ex. I kinda get why he relates to this, in places, and it kind of breaks my heart honestly. But outside of that, I don't understand what he, or anyone else, finds funny about this one. Because for me, Wallace's magnum opus wasn't so much an Infinite Jest as it was, well... a Bad Joke.
PS: okay, fine, the whole 'Eschaton' thing was actually pretty funny, in a very fucked up dark humour sort of way – my ex gets exactly one point there.
Several days later...
My brain still hurts, but I shall do my best to structure my thoughts and feelings about this bish into a semi-coherent review.
Premise:
Sike! Just kidding, this fucker doesn't really have a plot.
But fiiiiiiine...
-> Ya got Harold (yes, seriously) Incandenza, a teen prodigy studying at a tennis academy founded by his father, bopping along with his friends and getting addicted to cannabis.
-> Ya got the rest of the Incandenza family doing stuff and things.
-> Ya got a bunch of drug addicts doing drugs, fucking up their lives because they do drugs, and trying to turn their lives around at the Ennet Recovery House, all more or less centring on a character named Don Gately.
-> Ya got a government agent from the US conversing (for way too long, holy shit, and over lots of separate chapters) with a double agent from a group of Quebec separatists, about the merits and demerits of 'Murican Freedom™, and how this all relates back to brain-washing (literally) entertainment.
And it's all more or less set in a quasi-dystopian near-future when bits of north-eastern America are no longer inhabited because... something to do with "nuclear" waste actually re-wilding shit à la Area X, kinda (if I got that right). And bits of Canada aren't really... independent anymore (if I got that right). Calendar years are sponsored by various brands because not-so-subtle theming on consumerism and entertainment (and addiction). The Internet isn't really a thing like it actually is in the real world, but nor does it actually resemble cyberpunk-ish propositions. Rather, people watch a lot of tailored content on 'teleputers', and that's about it.
Oh, and there's a fuck ton of endnotes, most of which are pointless (don't fucking @ me), given they just give you pharmaceutical information on various mood- and consciousness-altering substances (a fair few of which aren't even in circulation anymore, but whatevs).
Rambling thoughts (because why shouldn't they be giving the book itself is an abject rambling mess):
1) Plot, structure or rather lack thereof: I want to formally apologise to every book I ever criticised for their lack of proper and/or conventional structure. I was but a Sweet Summer Child who clearly didn't know what true chaos of form entailed in literature. Because holy shit: Infinite Jest, in my book, barely even qualifies as a novel. There is no real plot to speak of. The structure is a sprawling mess of indulgent excess. And no, I don't give a fuck that this was probably by design, and part of the supposed "point". This shit, right here, is why peeps make fun of 'Post-Modernism' in the Arts, gah dayum. Fiction literature is a storytelling art form: I will die on this (subjective, sure, but so what!) hill, and given Infinite Jest barely, just barely, tells a cogent and meaningful story, it barely qualifies as fiction literature, as a novel. That's just how it is for me.
It was a mess: nothing justified those 1400 pages. Because what little meaningful commentary, theming, emotionality there was in this text was completely obliterated by the sheer mass of "litbabble" inflating, bloating, padding it out. Reading Infinite Jest felt like I was being force-fed words! And it made me realise that 'Horseshoe Theory' can in fact be applied to literature: if flat and too-sparse writing seldom achieves much in terms of conveying ideas, emotions, meaning, what have you, neither does its indulgently, bloatedly excessive counterpart! I sure learned that the hard way... fuck me. 🥲
2) Prose, I guess: not that it was all bad in terms of prose? I'll give Wallace this: I can tell the man could, in fact, write, in the sense that he could competently, and more or less effectively at times, switch between different writing styles. But being able to do that doesn't mean one should just shove all of them in one book, and cut them up across wildly dissonant chapters like he did. The amount of tonal whiplash I experienced reading Infinite Jest was insane. Hell, the structural whiplash I experienced wasn't any better, to come back to that. Obscenely long walls of text –not to mention obscenely long fucking sentences – alternated with snappy dialogues, drug-fuelled internal monologues, email transcripts, serialised anecdotes and political meeting minutes. Just why the actual fuck was it written that way?! Yes, it did reek of "try-hardism" in places, sue me. I didn't even mind the vocabulary: it wasn't that advanced, all things considered, but like... why am I not bothered by this shit when Miéville or Nabokov does it, hmm? Because their vocabulary gets woven into their narratives in a way that feels seamless and organic!
3) Characters: I didn't care about anyone, or anything in Infinite Jest. What I find really bizarre, however, is that for something that is 1400 pages long, I found Infinite Jest's character work surprisingly superficial, across most of its protagonists. It's not that it was non-existent, or even bad per se, but more so that I expected a lot more depth given the sheer hugeness of this... 'pseudo-tale'.
4) World-building: this one is really freaking weird genre-wise. Infinite Jest primarily reads as general fiction, yes, but it is technically set in the near-future (as imagined in the 1980s/90s by Wallace), and features a North American landscape that is a little different from our own. And I think this genre-bending choice was, not only entirely unnecessary for the book's theming (such as I read it), but just... really poorly executed. Because it was under-developed, or rather developed in a way too narrow, and thus uncommitted fashion. I felt, at times, like I was reading dystopian or lite science-fiction that has aged really, and I mean really badly – think something rather mediocre written in, say, the 1960s. If you contrast this to the kind of mild and subtle world-building you find in Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale or Butler's Parable of the Sower, Infinite Jest doesn't come off as thoughtfully prescient, it comes off as incredibly clunky – even old-fashioned in some respects.
And I repeat, its theming did not need this weird, 'speculative literature-lite' framing. Or, conversely, if Wallace really wanted to play with the idea of dystopian 'entertainment-addiction', he should've committed more fully to sheer speculation because, as it stands, I'd argue freaking Brave New World does that shit way better, and in a much more concise, not to mention memorable, manner. Basically, Wallace's chonker suffers from vaguely residing in that wishy-washy nothing genre-space 'magically realist' novels occupy.
5) Theming: the only merit I found in Infinite Jest (because no, it wasn't all negative, hence the two stars) were its bits of commentary, theming... on addiction. And, sure, linked to that: mental illness, despair, and entertainment – kind of. I say 'kind of' because, really, at the end of the day, entertainment itself is critiqued through the lens of addiction, and the destruction it wreaks on individuals and, fine, society with regards to questions of individual freedom, responsibility, etc... Though really, I think the individual tragedy of addiction is what comes through the text the most.
And yes, I'm aware this, alongside depression, is something with which Wallace was intimately familiar. This is probably why the latter point comes through the text as strongly as it does: as a fellow mental illness sufferer, I could definitely tell Wallace wrote a lot of the addiction and depression stuff straight from the source of painful experience. And as it so happens... the best parts, by lightyears, of the book were indeed (some of) those that dealt with the horror of addiction, and/or the agony of severe depression.
What maddens me, however, is that so much of that was then lost in the freaking sauce of the book's inherent, indulgent excess. And I'm left with this question: was the "Haha, gotchu!" aspect of the book – reflecting the indulgent excess of addiction by being, itself, indulgently excessive in style – really worth it, given I felt it took away from its thematic and emotional impact? I really don't think so. It's near impossible to pull off this kind of... meta-critique (I don't think that's the right concept, but fuck it) because, 90% of the time, you just end up reifying the thing you're trying to criticise. And I just don't think Wallace pulled it off.
The ending pissed me off. I'm not sure I fully "got it", but whatever, I was so fucking done with this bish. No, I didn't read every single endnote, because fuck off with that honestly and, quite frankly, if you think that emulates the 'feeling of a tennis match': a) you've never actually watched tennis, and/or b) you've never played tennis. I actually have played tennis, and seen my fair share of tennis because my parents watched a lot of it on telly. Guess what: tennis goes pretty freaking fast. But you know what doesn't go pretty freaking fast? Me having to take 10 to 20 fucking minutes to read a goddamn endnote that takes me out of the main text! So I call massive bullshit.
I was originally recommended Infinite Jest by my ex. I kinda get why he relates to this, in places, and it kind of breaks my heart honestly. But outside of that, I don't understand what he, or anyone else, finds funny about this one. Because for me, Wallace's magnum opus wasn't so much an Infinite Jest as it was, well... a Bad Joke.
PS: okay, fine, the whole 'Eschaton' thing was actually pretty funny, in a very fucked up dark humour sort of way – my ex gets exactly one point there.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Drug abuse, Mental illness
Minor: Animal cruelty, Sexual violence
Drug abuse and mental illness – depression specifically – are central themes/thematic explorations of Infinite Jest. Some characters, who are drug addicts, also talk about their experiences with sexual violence, or with harming animals.