I have a lot of September books to review and not much to day about them. I think I might be turning laconic. Or it could I don’t particularly like most of them. September would have been a boring year had I not read(or tried to) these books already. But anyways, this is the first batch: books that I should have reviewed already and be done with them. How do you spell LA-Z-ASS?
The good first, or the bad?
Disclaimer: Review copies provided by the publishers,
Author: Ainslie Hogarth
Shelves: Hot like meh, abandoned, Let me down, Magical Realism
Easter Deetz struggles with The Lonely--a debilitating condition that affects all the women in her family. The Lonely makes people sad and it makes them lie. One day, Easter's sister drops a boulder on her in The Woods. As she bleeds to death, she's forced to face those lies with a bunch of judgmental squirrels watching. Which sucks.
abandoned at 60%
Gah, people! I tried, I tried so fucking many times until I had to force myself to press the YES to the delete option on my Kindle.
The first problem with this book is that it’s the same thing happening again and again and again, with little to no variations, until it all amalgamates into one meaty taffy that not only am I not interested in ingesting at all, but also makes me think that the story has not moved forward at all, at least where the reader is concerned.
The second problem with this book is that it’s actually not that weird-it’s one selling point; sure, there are a few crazy things and Easter, our narrator and delusional protagonist, talks in unusual terms and thinks in an unusual manner. She knows how fucked-up she is, she realizes she has to let go but she doesn’t, can’t, won’t who fucking cares? Fact is, after you realize that she realizes this, her train of thoughts and consequent in/actions seem to take on a pattern that is predictable, and thusly, far less intriguing. And simple.
The third problem is that I expected too much, was promised too much and nothing fucking delivered.
There go the three stars and I am extremely pissed off.
The first argument in favor is that the beginning of the story was remarkable-darkly comic and subtly entrancing. The fact is, the book continues to drop in hints of aforementioned to keep you hanging and wanting, but never enough to have you-or at least, me-actually care. The writing was so simplistically engrossing, gentle, grating, easy to read with an aftertaste, like a goddamn spice cookie that I ate four of this afternoon. Don’t worry-I have good metabolism. Or good enough.
The second argument in favor is that the characters were fascinating-all fucked up sans mentally draining drama. The Mother, The Father, Easter, Julia, The Evil Bitch(I think???) et cetra. Yet again, just barely-enough to leave me hopeful but recalcitrant.
So you see why I’m extremely pissed off?
Title: Tomboy: A Graphic Memoir
Author: Liz Prince
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Shelves: Graphic novel/Illustations, Non-fiction
Growing up, Liz Prince wasn't a girly girl, dressing in pink tutus or playing Pretty Pretty princess like the other girls in her neighborhood. But she wasn't exactly one of the guys either, as she quickly learned when her Little League baseball coach exiled her to the outfield instead of letting her take the pitcher's mound. Liz was somewhere in the middle, and Tomboy is the story of her struggle to find the place where she belonged. Tomboy is a graphic novel about refusing gender boundaries, yet unwittingly embracing gender stereotypes at the same time, and realizing later in life that you can be just as much of a girl in jeans and a T-shirt as you can in a pink tutu. A memoir told anecdotally, Tomboy follows author and zine artist Liz Prince through her early childhood into adulthood and explores her ever-evolving struggles and wishes regarding what it means to "be a girl." From staunchly refuting anything she perceived as being "girly" to the point of misogyny, to discovering through the punk community that your identity is whatever you make of it, regardless of your gender, Tomboy is as much humorous and honest as it is at points uncomfortable and heartbreaking.
Tomboy has been a recurring word throughout my childhood at school and occasionally, I hear it these days in connection with myself for reasons I cannot discern.
I think it’s a stupid term. I think it’s a stupid classification and quantification and label but the world doesn’t seem to agree. I think it forces down restrictions even/especially upon wayward souls who don’t conform to traditional roles. I think a lot and my history teacher says I shouldn’t. Course, he also says that that’s what my handwriting tells him so I take his words with a grain of salt.
Tomboy: A Graphic Memoir didn’t open up endless possibilities or doors for me(they already were ’cause I’m awesome) but it did provide an insight into the life of a “true” Tomboy. Partly hilarious, moving, enraging, it was a look into the life of a girl bullied and rejected by the majority for her preferences in clothing and shit. Not to say that’s all there is: we get to know about her boyfriends, best friends, her loneliness and how she found a place for herself, saw biases and prejudices in her opinions while she cursed the world for the same and me likey!
Yay for this book! Someone seems to get that not every story has to be about a tomboy who blooms into her full potential as a heartbreaker with the help of a sexy, omniscient best friend or aunt. Seriously.
Plus I think it’ll be a wonderful, inspiring and insightful tale for girls with broken legs from soccer who are being asked silently, judgmentally to give it up; and boys who want admire Elsa but are too afraid to advocate their devotion. ‘Cause dude, girls are NOT sugar and spice and everything nice, and boys will NOT be boys by your definition.