Two Poets - Frank X Walker and Mosab Abu Toha

When I mentioned to coworker Michael - who was putting together a poetry exhibit at the library - that there were a couple of recently published books of poetry that I had found 'harrowing,' he raised an eyebrow at the word I used and suggested reviewing the books here.  

It is an apt word for the poems in these two books. The poems, based on fact, are full of bitter tales of family separation and longing, loss and displacement, and scenes of annihilation of people and places. Coming to terms with the daily threat of death before you have barely had a chance to experience life is an overall theme in each book.

Poets Frank X Walker and Mosab Abu Toha are from ethnic groups whose people have been viewed throughout history as disposable, and while the contexts of these two poetry collections are different in place and time, the themes expressed have such strong parallels that it made sense to review them together. One collection is set in the context of the American Civil War and the other in present day Palestine. 

Walker, a professor of English at the University of Kentucky and a former Poet Laureate of the state, has published 13 books of poetry. His poems often focus on specific historical events. His latest is called Load in Nine Times and draws on actual events while imagining the thoughts and emotions of Black Civil War soldiers and their families. These carefully composed poems give us a view of the horrors endured by men who eagerly signed up for soldiering in the Union army in exchange for the commonly understood expectation of emancipation from slavery for themselves and their wives and children. 

Walker often does many months of research on a historic event before writing a poem about it, and several of the poems in Load in Nine Times imagine the thoughts of real people whose stories he found in archival records. The horrors described take time to emotionally digest, and these poems often left me feeling haunted. The two poems "Unsalted" and "How Salt Works" are about the 1864 massacre by Confederate soldiers at Saltville, Virginia of 46 Black soldiers who had been inadequately armed for battle and then abandoned on a muddy, freezing battlefield by order of their commander after they had been wounded. Other poems describe equally depraved behavior by commanding officers of both armies.

The poems reveal that like so much else in the American story, the military experience was much worse for Blacks than for white soldiers. And yet I was left with the impression that this terrible experience of going into battle with all its terrors and risk was still preferred to remaining enslaved. This series of poems provides such a close look at our gruesome history that the book felt a bit sacred to me once I had finished it; there is deep respect due to the people who suffered these experiences. At the back of the book, a timeline of Civil War developments and turning points plus several pages of notes discussing specific events that inspired some of the poems provide a helpful interpretive context. 

Forest of Noise is a collection of poems by 32-year-old Palestinian writer Mosab Abu Toha. His poems have been published in The New Yorker, The Atlantic, The Nation, The Paris Review, The Los Angeles Review of Books, and many other periodicals. He has won several prizes for his poetry. Like most Gazans, Toha has lost numerous family members, neighbors and lifelong friends who have been killed in the onslaught of retaliation by the Israeli Defense Forces in response to the October 7, 2023 Hamas attack on Israeli civilians. He, too, writes of bereavement, longing and unfathomable destruction of the people and community he has known all his life. So many people are missing from the world he knew that he writes of "Frying pans [that] miss the smell of olive oil. Clotheslines everywhere pine for soap scent," the doorknobs missing the touch of human hands and the ubiquitous rubble where the homes, olive and orange tree groves, and gathering spots of family and friends used to be. Like Walker, Toha brings you right into the immediacy of deep grief and it stings. 

Here are some lines from his poem "Under the Rubble," which I first read in The New Yorker, before I knew who this poet was:

       In Jabalia Camp, a mother collects her daughter's 

       Flesh in a piggy bank, 

       hoping to buy her a plot

       on a river in a faraway land.

       A group of mute people

       were talking sign.

       When a bomb fell, 

       they fell silent.

       The scars on our children's faces

       will look for you.

       Our children's amputated legs

       will run after you.

       He left the house to buy some bread for his kids.

       News of his death made it home,

       but not the bread.

       A father wakes up at night, sees

       the random colors on the walls

       drawn by his four-year-old daughter.

       The colors are about four feet high.

       Next year, they would be five.

       But the painter has died

       in an air strike.

       There are no colors anymore.

       There are no walls. 

       Where should people go? Should they

       build a big ladder and go up?

       But heaven has been blocked by the drones

       and F-16s and the smoke of death. 

...Even our souls,

they get stuck under the rubble for weeks. 

These are important books at a time when American history is being suppressed, erased and deceptively revised, and when the people of Palestine are feeling abandoned by the whole world as the entire population of Gaza continues to be under relentless assault, and profiteers wait for a chance to redevelop the places Palestinians call home. These two collections of poems are treasures. 

- Marianne W.

Headshot by Rita Bullwinkel

 

Eight young women gather in a bare-bones boxing gym in Reno, Nevada to compete for the title of best teen girl boxer in America. There are seven matches. During each match, we alternate between the minds of the two competing girls, slamming from one to the other, but also flitting into the minds of the viewers. Time isn't linear, either, and we get glimpses of their futures (without revealing the outcome of the match). 

The energy is like heat coming off the page and I read this in a frenzied two days. Each character is specific and heart-breaking in their own way. Bullwinkel anchors them with phrases that repeat like a leitmotif, reminding you this is the character that never left her home town, this is the character who had a kid die while she was on duty as a lifeguard, this is the girl who has a "weird hat philosophy." 

Bullwinkel's narrative is kinetic and she has a gift for describing what it is to be embodied. I had so much respect for the young women these characters represented: women who are dedicated to a craft, devoted to challenging themselves, regardless of whether or not they are being watched. 

This was recommended on the New York Times book review podcast on the episode where they discuss the 100th anniversary of the publication of (my favorite novel) Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway. The guests were asked to recommend books to read after the experimental stream-of-consciousness narrative of Mrs. Dalloway. Both books are currently on the shelf at our library. I encourage you to check them out! 

-Michael G.

Kiss of the Basilisk by Lindsay Straube

To be honest, I'm not sure how to:

1. review this book in a way that makes sense
2. keep it somewhere around PG or PG-13
3. not freak out my coworkers and our patrons by my reading choices.

But I'm going to try anyway!

If you're a voracious romance reader of any and all types and enjoy hanging out in the bookish corners of social media, then this book has probably come across your feed. However, if you aren't constantly online, prefer your romances fairly sweet, and/or think that a knot is simply how you tie two strings together, then this is NOT the book for you. Please scroll away now, and if you keep reading, don't say I didn't warn you.

Temperance (Tem for short) is one of 14 young women eligible to marry the prince. Tem has long felt like an outsider - she and her single mom live on the outskirts of their village, raising chickens. She has one best friend, Gabriel, and one mean girl enemy, Vera, who is also in the running to marry the prince. Marrying the prince would make life considerably easier for Tem and her mother, so Tem wants more than anything to be the one chosen. Except... well, Tem doesn't have much experience when it comes to romance and intimacy, and the prince is going to pick his bride based not only on her looks and personality, but also on how well she performs in bed.

Which is where the basilisk comes in.

You see, many years ago, when humans arrived in that part of the world, they found that basilisks were already there. In human form, basilisks are alluring and seductive, and well-versed in pleasure. But in basilisk form, they are huge snake-y predators capable of killing you dead in an instant. As the humans moved into the basilisks' territory, a great and bloody war broke out, and the humans only prevailed once they learned that the basilisks' greatest weapon (turning people to stone by looking into their eyes) could be used against them by simply brandishing mirrors and forcing them to look at themselves. In the aftermath, the basilisks agreed to help keep the monarchy going by training eligible young women on how to have sex with each successive prince, since that will ensure that a new heir to the throne is always born.

Have I lost you yet? No? Good.

As Tem and the others begin their sex lessons, Tem finds herself paired with Caspen, who the humans know as the Serpent King. In truth, he's the son of the Serpent King, but his students usually get picked by the prince, so Tem feels like she maybe actually stands a chance to win the human prince's hand. But her relationship with Caspen quickly moves beyond the confines of their teacher/student role and into something deeper. Meanwhile, as things grow more serious between her and Caspen, she also gets closer and closer to the human prince, Leo, who clearly wants to make her his bride, despite his father's disapproval. Soon Tem is torn between the two, and what would be best not only for her and her heart, but also the two worlds she is now straddling. Plus, there's this mysterious voice calling for help every time Tem visits the castle, which only she can hear...

There is a whole lot more going on in this story that I haven't even touched on in this synopsis, and honestly, probably can't, given the explicit nature of this book (plus some things are best experienced without prior knowledge, if you know what I mean). Looking at other readers' reviews of this book on Goodreads, feelings are split - most reviewers either loved it or hated it, with some in the middle who enjoyed it for what it is while acknowledging that work still needs to be done. I'm definitely with those who are somewhere in between - the smut was incredibly smutty, which was honestly kinda great, but the character- and world-building do leave a lot to be desired. There are moments where you can tell Straube came up with a plot twist as she was writing, which I can almost forgive, as she initially released this chapter by chapter, but edits to lay more groundwork for those twists should have been made once it was picked up by a traditional publisher. There's also a sorta feminist bent to the story that is completely undermined not only by the lack of character development beyond the love triangle, but also by some of the actions of both Caspen and Leo and how Tem responds to them. Yes, the story basically revolves around Tem embracing pleasure and gaining self-confidence through that (that's the sorta feminist part), but there are moments when both men emotionally abuse Tem and no consequences happen beyond calling them out on it and them apologizing and promising not to do it again. Tem's relationships with the other female characters in the book are also trash. Either they have some familial relation to the main three characters or are an off-page cipher and therefore aren't a threat, or they're competition and deserve her ire more than anything. While I'm not totally a proponent of the notion that all women must support each other, no matter what, it was glaringly obvious that Straube was more interested in making sure that the reader knew that Tem was the ultimate chosen one, and the way to do that was to make sure Tem was superior to all other women in the book in a way that was detrimental.

All that being said, this was a wild romp that I read in the span of 4 days and the bonus, alternate-universe scene inspired by the movie Challengers may or may not, in my estimation, have made up for all of its flaws. I would one hundred percent read this again, I am going to read the sequel, and I may go ahead and buy a copy just because (especially if I can get my hands on one of the last deluxe editions with the fancy sprayed edges). But I'm not sure I can recommend it to the average reader, because it does fit into a very specific niche that will likely only appeal to very specific readers, and I'm not sure what that says about me.

The Seep by Chana Porter

 

After an alien invasion solves the world's problems, Trina's wife wants a fresh start. Specifically, as a baby. She wants to become a literal baby (again). 

Anything is possible in the new world that has been fully infiltrated by "the Seep," an amorphous consciousness that is willing to give us ANYTHING so that it can learn about being human. What its end goal is we don't know, but since the invasion everyone seems happier, healthier and...mildly stoned. It's like the whole world has become a utopian Portland: "But just then, a herd of deer clipped down the street, followed by a topless unicycle collective."

Post-Seep, your body can look however you want. Identity is fluid. Body modification is taken to new heights: It's easy, painless, and nothing is permanent. Want horns? You got 'em. Want to live as a woman sometimes, but not always? Sure thing. Like Trina's wife, you can even transform into a baby. No problem! Except for the grieving spouse you leave behind. 

Wrecked by grief, Trina leaves their home, struggling to find her footing in her new, upended world. And no one seems to understand her unhappiness. Everything is easy with the Seep! What is there to complain about? 

Trina bucks against this queasy utopia, but it is difficult to rationalize, like when she is confronted with the neglect of her house. A volunteer offers assistance, and then makes clear that if she continues to do nothing, she will be removed from her home: "This place isn't yours to let rot. It's an asset for the community. It was built by the energies of many different life-forms, including the trees that gave their lives for its construction, the animals that gave up their homes so yours could be built here." He's got a point, and her wallowing is difficult to justify against the larger argument of communal responsibility, but also: How would you cope if your spouse ended their life in order to start again? 

Amidst the easy solutions offered by the Seep, she clings to what makes her hurt; she is uncomfortable with the placidity and gentleness that are the new norm. Sometimes we want what is bad for us and sometimes, we want to remember and hold onto pain. Trina holds on to her identity as a trans woman. Her body and her history is what makes her her. "[She] had labored for this body! She'd fought and kicked and clawed to have her insides match her outsides." Our struggles, our pain, our sometimes difficult journeys are what make us human. 

What kept striking me was the prescience of Porter's Seep (published in 2020) -- its voice is uncannily like the now ubiquitous AI we see all over the internet, with its chummy but alien helpfulness and cheery exclamation marks ("So, Your True Love Has Become a Baby"). At under 200 pages, The Seep is a great example of how to create a compelling world and space for ideas in a short novel. 

-Michael G. 

Children of Virtue and Vengeance by Tomi Adeyemi

“You carry all of us in your heart. We shall live in every breath you take. Every incantation you speak. You are the children of the gods. You shall never be alone.”

The words reverberate through the entirety of this story as a lesson learned and a lesson shared. 

A continuation of "Blood and Bone", "Virtue and Vengeance" follows Zélie, Amari, and Tzain as the tension of the war in Orïsha continues to rise. The king is now dead, but with the return of magic, there is now the new threat of tîtáns, people who are half kosidán half maji and wield uncontrollable power. The biggest threat of them all, is the queen.

The book continues with its signature shifts in perspective each chapter, continuing to follow Zélie, Amari, and Inan, each following their own beliefs in how they can end the war. As the title suggests, vengeance and grief are large themes in this book. We see the toll war takes on each one of the characters, and how that grief (or their attempts to prevent it) can motivate the characters to do actions that blur the lines of morality. 

Family, community, and love. This book explores the lengths we're willing go to protect them.. and to avenge them. As I listened to this story, I was completely immersed in the world and invested in these characters. And now, I'm speeding through the third book! I highly encourage checking out this series, hoping that you will fall in love with it too, just like I have. 

- Leo H.

Glinda of Oz by L. Frank Baum

 In his final Oz book, Baum gives us enormous spiders, a mechanized sinking island led by a tween tyrant, and silent Mist Maidens. Each chapter of Baum's Oz books has been a fresh, light surprise. The stories are so easily entertaining, and definitely not without some thrills. 

The edition I read came with an illuminating introduction and annotations by Jack Zipes, who puts things in context of the (much larger) whole of Baum's work, giving testament to the man's imagination and productivity. 

Baum allowed the rules of Oz to change, but didn't forget to acknowledge that or make his characters reflect upon it. For example, the use of magic in Oz is strictly limited to the Supreme Ruler Ozma, the Sorceress Glinda, and later to the Wizard (who is brought back to Oz and favor after his flight in the first novel). 

When Ozma learns that there are warring tribes in the North using magic, she and Dorothy journey to put an end to both offenses. However, once there, they find themselves trapped. 

This is one of the central fascinations of Glinda: its focus on the limitations of ability and power. Even the Supreme Ruler can become stuck, not knowing how to escape a situation, and what's more, the most powerful Sorceress doesn't know how to save her. But with help, study, experimentation, patience, and a hopeful outlook (plus an unexpected coincidence), things can work out for the good. 

-Michael G. 

How Fascism Works by Jason Stanley

 

    People have a tendency to believe that they are immune to fascism. That it would happen abruptly, and we will suddenly find ourselves living in World War II times. On the contrary, it is subtle, with systems changing right before our eyes at a slow and steady pace. That is, until the fascist regime does such a horrendous act that it affects everyone--you--in a way that cannot be ignored. In this book, Stanley discusses what he believes are the ten components of fascism that facilitate these subtle changes by analyzing the commonalities between fascist regimes, their rulers, and their evolutions over time. 

    I enjoyed this book because as I was listening to it, I could find (many) commonalities between the tactics he described in the book and the things I learned while in African American history class. Americans have utilized in-group vs out-group tactics since the beginning of slavery, through Jim Crow, and still even today. It's extremely visible in how the Trump Administration speaks of immigrants, calling them aliens and savages. This language dehumanizes them, goading those who do not wish to critically think into believing immigrants are the enemy. This is then reinforced by news outlets highlighting crimes or other disturbances some immigrants may (or may not) have done, while forgoing all other aspects of immigrants lives and how they contribute to the very country that seems to despise them. This has been happening for years to black people, and now it is also clearly happening to immigrants (and this isn't even the first time).

    I believe the scariest part of reading this book and feeling the parallels is that many of the chapters applied. We watch as our education system gets dismantled, as people are deported for speaking out, and the rich get richer. Even down to the things Trump says, everything can be seen within this book. All of this happening to mold the country into a distorted image of America, and yet we stand divided as ever.

    Despite it all, I enjoy how the book ends on hope built on standing together. Working together is the way forward, as shown throughout history, we just have to find our way there. I think this book offers valuable insight into the current political climate, while also teaching its readers history that should never be forgotten. Please give this book a read. The knowledge you gain can not just open your eyes, but the eyes of anyone you choose to share it with.

- Leo H.

The Most by Jessica Anthony

 

This 2024 novel is a quickly and easily read fiction piece that might be considered a novella. There is nothing excessive in this 133-page, richly told story. Every informative word seems carefully chosen and assembled with an almost poetic quality. I was drawn by its cover descriptions including: "The Most charges the air like a thunderclap," and "a novel of ruthless beauty." The title refers to a tennis maneuver, the relevance of which is a key part of the story. 

It's set in the mid-century. Virgil and Kathleen Beckett are just out of a New England university and newly married (a commitment perhaps made too soon). There is solid affection between them but each has secrets, each makes mistakes, and neither is emotionally mature enough to resist committing numerous indiscretions in the early years of their marriage, that each keeps hidden from the other. Virgil married for love; Kathleen more for convenience. Therefore she has the upper hand in some ways. But like so many women of that era, she did not get from marriage what she thought she had bargained for. 

As a character, Kathleen could have been drafted from  the societal issues explored in Betty Friedan's 1963 classic The Feminine Mystique: A woman driven slightly mad on occasion by the social and professional limitations of her life. Her disturbance is expressed now and then by just-so-slightly erratic behavior. The author connects the dots of Kathleen's life to explain an episodic behavioral deviance that sometimes embarrasses and exasperates the seemingly conventional husband who otherwise adores and deeply admires her. 

Oddly, in an era of post-war prosperity in the United States, these two university-educated people seem held back from achieving the economic promise of their time. In their mid-30s, they don't have much to show for their comparatively privileged positions in the world. Former college tennis champion Kathleen has a more ambitious, driven character than her laid-back husband, but in the cultural and economic milieu of that era there is little she can do to improve the sometimes depressingly dingy conditions in which she, Virgil, and their two young sons live. 

This is the intriguing part: within this story's framework there is something sinister lurking between the lines. This marriage feels like a sham. Neither Kathleen nor Virgil has completely shaken off the reverberations of their past indiscretions. It feels all along as if the chickens of husband and wife are going to come home to roost in some terrible way that destroys everybody. And yet, at the end, the tables turn. The chickens do come home - all of them, yet the conclusion is not the explosion you expect, but something else entirely. It leaves you hanging a little bit, wanting to know more, and to learn the next chapter for this conventional-appearing, complicated couple.          

The Most is now in the FMPL collection. 

- Marianne W.

Baby Teeth by Zoje Stage

 

Hanna and Suzette are at odds, jealous over each other's relationship to Alex. Hanna decides the only feasible outcome is to eliminate the competition. Their story unfolds in alternating chapters, building to a fiery Walpurgisnacht and its sputtering aftermath. 

Hanna is seven and Suzette and Alex are her parents. 

It's a pretty wildly uneven book and to be honest, I hated it most of the time. Suzette and Alex are so bland and self-absorbed I couldn't tell if they were intentionally satirical or not. Suzette's main characteristics are obsessive cleaning and Crohn's Disease and really, mainly Crohn's Disease. It is a surprise just how much Crohn's Disease can define a character. Alex is Hot Swedish Gym Daddy. Too much of the tension relied on will Suzette be smart enough to record her daughter's bizarre outbursts? And will Alex ever stop explosively and irrationally defending his "lilla gumman"? 

All of this would be slightly more bearable if Hanna were an entertaining, well-written, compelling character. But there's hardly consistency with her voice: She has an adult's intelligence and vocabulary but occasionally uses babytalk and is astoundingly stupid. I thought the book might at least be silly and fun after Hanna punches a toddler at Trader Joe's, but it doesn't get fun for a long time after that. Hanna pretends to be possessed by a witch, makes a heinous collage, and incites a special needs boy to bash his head against a wall and Alex still won't acknowledge all is not right in their sunlit eco-friendly dream home. 

What will be the limit? Maybe I'll leave that to you to discover if you decide to give it a go. I will say, the ending held a surprise for me that I enjoyed but didn't make the overall reading experience much better. 

For a more claustrophobic and horrifying story that has similar themes, I recommend The Push by Audrey Audrain. 

- Michael G. 

Togetha by Keith F. Miller Jr

In an amazing follow-up to his debut novel, "Pritty", Keith F. Miller Jr. gives us a continuation of Leroy and Jay's journeys, along with discovering the fate of Savannah's black neighborhoods. The threat of gentrification, political corruption, and even death, rips and tears at the community as they try to unify against what seems impossible.

The book builds off of "Pritty", utilizing many of the same components and characters, such as staying true to the split perspective between Leroy, Jay and Will. With prose tickling your imagination and making your tummy growl, the scenes invoke a beautiful immersion, even during the most intense. This makes it easy to feel and relate to the characters and their experiences.. especially those having to do with love. A few of them even brought me to tears.

Contrary to "Pritty", this book has a heavier emphasis on community along with the character's individual plots. This is because the book drives home the idea that love exists in many forms, and how these forms play a role in strengthening a community. Within community exists a mix of all of these different types. All of them have the capacity to change us, and the world around us, for the better. Whether it's learning to choose yourself, to shine brighter, or even to let go, we can accomplish anything when we choose love. 

Here is an excerpt from possibly my favorite chapter (18) between both books:

"Somewhere I once read that love isn't a one-word story... [that] there are so many types of love, all sacred in their own right... that love, like energy, is neither lost, nor destroyed, simply transferred or transformed."

I recommend reading "Pritty" first. If you read them, let me know your thoughts! Maybe this book will encourage you to take a look at the way love shows up in your life.

- Leo

The Wolf Man by Philip J. Reed

 

I am so excited about a small Missouri press called DieDie Books! Currently they offer four titles (with one upcoming) that are each a deep-dive into one horror movie by a single author. 

I love that concept. I love to hear or read someone who is passionate about something (especially books and movies!). And these books are very pretty white-and-black volumes with original cover artwork. The one that I was drawn to was The Wolf Man, the movie which strikes me as the sensitive boy's favorite of the Universal Studios monsters. 

The werewolf as a monster is rich with symbolism, but Reed helped me see that the appeal of this movie has a lot to do with Lon Chaney, Jr. as the awkward, doomed main character Larry Talbot. He has zero chemistry with the lead actress Evelyn Ankers and a complex relationship with his estranged father. They are bound by love but find each other impossible to understand. Larry can never match his father's hopes and expectations or integrate into his society. 

Reed absolutely loves the tension between the script and what the actors bring to life (for example, with any other cast Ankers would be playing his love interest), all centered around the tragic, doomed lead actor. Reed sees so much pathos in Lon Chaney, Jr. and this book is actually more of a deeply felt meditation on the man through the lens of The Wolf Man. 

It's so raw and emotional, in fact, I was sometimes taken aback, a little embarrassed. That feeling made so much sense when I got to the afterward and read that Reed died by suicide before finishing the final edits. Those gaps in polish -- a repeated phrase here, pages of obsessively repetitive sentence structure (like that bird that got into the Library the other weekend, bashing itself against the glass, sensing what it needed but unable to reach it), were evidence of a man becoming undone. And so this book is a portrait of existential despair through the prism of Lon Chaney, Jr, through the reflection of The Wolf Man. 

It's heavy, amazing, intense. 

-Michael G. 

Racism without Racists: Color-Blind Racism and the Persistence of Racial Inequality in America by Eduardo Bonilla-Silva

    After the events of the Civil Rights Movement, racism went through a shift from being accepted as overt and very "in your face", to being more accepted as subtle and covert. An "invisible" racism that is covered by many tactics that save face to give the offender ways to appear non-racial, or "colorblind". Originally published in 2003, "Racism Without Racists" explores this racism that exists in modern day America. It does this through analyzing interviews conducted with both an older generation of white respondents, and a younger generation of white college students. Each chapter covers a different strategy done in response to the questions. There is even a chapter with black respondents as well to explore the comparison in responses.

    What I find most interesting about this book is that many of the questions are ones still discussed today (4/2025 as of this writing). They range from what people think of affirmative action and interracial marriage, to whether they believe systematic discrimination still exists. There is even a segment asking whether they think self-segregation and reverse racism are real phenomenon. Their responses are ones we hear in our everyday lives, ones that might not seem racist from the jump, but diving a little deeper, reveals implicit racial biases that might exist. These implicit biases perpetuate systemic racism without the person even realizing it. 

    As a black person reading this, I found that most of this felt rather intuitive, yet still engaging, and sometimes even entertaining. I definitely recommend this book for anyone interested in exploring racial topics, specifically in the range of how people *talk* about them and the effect this type of speech has. This is especially useful for white people, as it helps you better navigate these conversations, giving you the ability to identify when something said is racist and why. So if you ever find yourself talking with someone who says something like "I just don't agree with affirmative action because it takes away from the other hard working applicants," you'll better understand how and why this take is problematic.

- Leo

Down to the Bone: A Leukemia Story by Catherine Pioli

 

I started this beautifully self-illustrated book thinking that if I had to be treated for cancer - and I have been, which is one reason I was drawn to the book - I wouldn't mind doing so in Paris, as if somehow the seductive ambiance of that city would make the illness and its poisonous treatments easier to bear and the clinical aspects all so much more interesting in that location and language. I shortly gave up that idea, as the author's experience (while featuring some of the same medicines and treatments prescribed to me) was altogether much more grueling than my own. That was not due to the French healthcare system, or the location, but because of the type of cancer she had. 

Catherine Pioli's active, idyllic childhood in Greece gave her a belief that she would always be blessed with good health. But after developing a debilitating, painful and puzzling constellation of symptoms at age 32 she had a series of medical consultations that went nowhere definitive. Feeling worse week by week, she endured torturous tests some of which required weeks as a hospital inpatient before the diagnosis of leukemia was made. The treatment for it was even more grueling than the miserable-sounding tests. 

As a young adult establishing herself as a professional illustrator in Paris with regular deadlines to meet, all of this was a huge, very inconvenient, anxiety-causing disruption. A personal life full of love from family, a devoted partner, and friends help her get through it, but we watch her life spiral downward while the beloved people in her life experience happy events in their own lives. Remarkably, she used her talent and skill to document her experience, fears and emotions as they unfolded despite treatment side effects including malnutrition, exhaustion and progressive loss of weight and stamina. The result is a record composed of exquisitely detailed drawings and explanations of the medical necessity of each test and treatment, with the love of others and the aforementioned Paris ambiance woven into her bittersweet tale. 

If you have read Jon Batiste's wife Suleika Jaouad's memoir of her own experience of leukemia, (Between Two Kingdoms) this is a similar story except for the respective authors' personal details. I loved Jaouad's book and found Catherine Pioli's graphic account of the same illness equally captivating and worth my reading time. Both writers tell their stories so compellingly. Pioli's format and comparatively more circumscribed telling make for a quicker reading experience and engage the reader in a completely different but equally unforgettable way. Moreover, it's an informative lesson in some of the ways of cancer - and medicine. 

One doesn't have to have experienced cancer to be drawn into the story of this artist whose life rapidly turned upside down and forced her down a different path than she expected in her thirties. This is an extremely moving and powerful account, the outcome of which you'll have to read the book to learn. 

-Marianne W.