"Vida" by Patricia Engel (2010)

One of the things I admire most about this book is Engel's decision to not translate her inclusion of Spanish. This made me reflect on Anzaldúa's use of Spanish in the same way or Red Shirt's choice to always translate Lakota, even after a definition had been given.

Where Red Shirt's narrative began to feel bogged down as the translations were repeated throughout the book, Engel does an excellent job at keeping the center plot moving without rushing through important details or character development.

The book is organized in primarily in chronological order following the protagonist, Sabina, as she navigates growing into herself through a variety of romantic, platonic, and familial relationships. The last story is the only standout as not being chronological, though it mirrors the first story, "Lucho" in a lot of ways: Sabina forms relationships with people that no one else wants to deal with outside of the person's romantic capabilities/availability until meeting an unfortunate and untimely end of their current existence in a motor accident.

The setup for the structure is very similar to Cisneros' House on Mango Street as there are many stories where the central character is not Sabina, but the person she's forming a bond with (most notably in the titular story/chapter "Vida" but also in the first story "Lucho" is when this stands out most to me in memory). The result of this is a touchstone (Sabina) for the reader as they see what being an immigrant or first-generation American can mean for someone's existence/survival.

The book seems to exist in a liminal space. Sabina never really figures out who she is or where she belongs (a theme most explored in the final story as she returns to Columbia and receives criticism, paralleling the bullying she received growing up in the U.S.). Sabina exists in the in-between in her relationships, her geographical location (bouncing between NYC, Jersey, and Miami most frequently), and most of all, her identity. Though I followed this character and her relationships for the 179 pages that make up this book, I came away knowing very little about Sabina specifically. I mostly remember how the setting and other characters impacted her and revealed hidden truths (a call-back to "Lucho" where she references peeling Lucho's onion while getting to know each other). It's this disconnect from the protagonist (also seen in Cisnero's book) that lends itself more to a collection of stories than a novel. Just as I cannot remember anything about the protagonist of Mango Street I doubt I will remember anything about Sabina in a few weeks.

"Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic" by Alison Bechdel (2006)

Perhaps what is most impactful about this book is how Bechdel can use theology, literature, and philosophy to peel back the messy, entangled layers of personal and familial silence. There is more to this book than an exploration of shame, sexuality, and grief, Bechdel is almost as intangible as the portraits of her family she paints (literally and metaphorically). Her use of literary language opens up possibilities for her to undercut her obvious wit with humor, unease, and deep pathos.

The medium of a graphic memoir is an interesting, but important one. Small, square panels move along the scenes, allowing Bechdel to add jokes and details that would otherwise halt the narrative (for example, when her father enters the car holding a bag of Sunbeam bread). On the other hand, longer rectangular panels let Bechdel show a scene or let the reader marinate in a significant point in her or her family's history. Even the color choice is specific, mirroring the same distaste for color that Bechdel mentions having for most of her life. The dusty blue that ranges in shade lends itself the solemnity of tone while reflecting the parts of Bechdel's personality she tells us with words in and around the gutters of her panels.

Bechdel's use of language in the memoir is a double-edged sword. As mentioned before, it allows for moments of humor and heightens certain emotions Bechdel is attempting to convey, but it also isolates her from the reader. At times it feels almost impenetrable, like her language is putting up a barrier between her and not just the reader, but everyone. In part, this negatively impacts the opening for a reader to truly understand and empathize with the complex themes of the book (loss and grief, finding an identity that is socially unwelcomed, betrayal, and shame). Just as she writes her parents to be almost fictional and entirely intangible, her language does the same thing here. Part of me isn't sure how purposeful it is either, as the book feels like it possibly was never meant to be read as anything other than a thematic journal. But it is the persistence of her language that keeps this book from being a full five stars for me.

"The Corpse Exhibition and Other Stories of Iraq" by Hassan Blasim (2014)

SPOILERS AHEAD

Blasim uses varieties of form and POV to explore the hardships experienced by Iraqi citizens spanning multiple wars and occupations in a way that is wholly unique and horrifying. Blasim uses brief moments of repetition (like the use of the word "one" in "Thousand and One Knives") and slipping in and out of 2nd person POV to highlight the tone of the collection, specifically by bringing the reader into the protagonist's experience as vividly as possible for each story.

The first story, "The Corpse Exhibition" is the perfect choice to set the tone of this collection and is written in 2nd person POV though it mostly feels like standard 3rd person limited narration. The story functions as almost a training video for murders who display the bodies of their victims in a variety of increasingly shocking ways for the sake of message and "art." Functionally, this piece lets the reader know that the rest of the collection will be violent, gory, and as exploitative as the media (as briefly discussed using the example of Al Jazeera in "The Reality and The Record") to depict the unpleasantries of war.

Blasim is able to capture complex emotions and characters where heroes and villains don't really exist. The cycle of war portrayed by Blasim is one where everyone is unable to escape the violence and anger, much like "The Bus Driver Who Wanted to be God and Other Stories" by Keret. The distinguishing factors between Blasim and Keret is primarily one of author perspective: Keret writes about war and occupation from the perspective of the occupiers (Israel) where Blasim writes from the perspective of the occupied (Iraq). The occupiers change throughout the collection, from the U.S. military, to racial groups (for example, the Kurdish), and terror groups, but the result is always the same: anger, fear, violence, a desperate need for survival. This lends itself to the overarching tone of the collection: impending doom.

"The Bus Driver Who Wanted to be God and Other Stories" by Etgar Keret

SPOILERS AHEAD

Keret's collection is a surrealist collection that uses black humor to dissect the mentality of war. He uses short, punchy sentences to keep the stories vibrant while highlighting the disturbing twists of the content. The stories are tied together with two main themes: religion and anger/rage.

Many of stories feature characters with a God-complex. The titular story is an excellent example ("The Bus Driver Who Wanted to be God"), though this can also be found in "Hole in the Wall," "Kneller's Happy Campers," and most disturbing of them all, "Cocked and Locked" where the feeling of superiority is blanketed by the theme of rage as it depicts an Israeli soldier in a verbal (and later physical) altercation with a Palestinian man.

With current world events, "Cocked and Locked" is almost nauseating to read. However, Keret does depict the events as something no one really wants to happen. The Palestinian man shows his detest and anger-driven by Israeli occupation as the Israeli soldier shows equal contempt as someone who is forced into a military and faces harassment. Everyone is angry. Everyone is losing. Only some people have to lose more than others. Keret does pick apart Islam throughout the book, however, he also picks apart every religion.

This is most easy to see in "Kneller's Happy Campers" (the longest story of the collection, by far). There is a chapter in which two Israeli men who have killed themselves and are now on a quest in the afterlife come across an Arab (no details about nationality are given) man who admits to being a suicide bomber. The climax of the scene is when one of the Israeli men is mocking the Arab man about the belief in the "72 virgins waiting for him" to which the Arab man responds: "Sure, they promise [...] and look what it got me. [...] And you, what did they promise you?"

Keret's characters are vastly unlikable, some even admitting to being racist. His saving grace for the collection lies within the protagonists. The protagonists are typically characters that act as a proxy for the reader, someone who is on the outside (in one way or another) and are watching atrocities and horror occur around them. Again, the primary deviant from this is "Cocked and Loaded" where the protagonist is the Israeli soldier that ends up severely assaulting the Palestinian man. Though further research into both the occupied and occupier positions (pre-October 7th, 2023) would be helpful in understanding the climate and purpose behind this piece in particular.

"On Writing Well: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction" by William Zinsser (1976)

Zinsser's "On Writing Well" is the midpoint between Lamotts "Bird by Bird" and Wood's "How Fiction Works": more personal than Wood and more craft-centerd than Lamott. The primary difference between his "personal" and Lamott's is that Zinsser tends to stick to stories from his life that center around writing: being a guest speaker, interacting with his students, being a featured pannelist, whereas Lamott tends to center her experiences and rotate the writing tips around that (not unlike Chee in "How to Write an Autobiographical Novel). Zinsser is explicit about what he thinks is good writing versus "hack" writing, being as bold as to say "hack" himself.

Zinsser is hyper-aware of the prominence of non-fiction writing and offers valuable information for writers and non-writers alike. His book is broken into four parts: principles, methods, forms, and attitudes. However, for most people (i.e., anyone not pursuing journalism) the principles and methods sections are where a bulk of the information come from. A lot of the actual "tips" stop after this point, where he begins to get specific about forms and clichés to be mindful of once the book hits the "forms" section. At that point, you can really skim to any area you're interested in and leave the rest untouched.

Zinsser has a few recurring tips: be yourself, avoid clichés, all elements must be cohesive (unity), and, perhaps most important, writing won't be any fun to read if you don't have fun writing it (enjoyment). That being said, Zinsser's first couple sections open the door for anyone to learn how to better their writing abilities and become aware of what their pitfalls may be.

"My Time Among the Whites: Notes from an Unfinished Education" by Jennine Capó Crucet (2019)

Capó Crucet's essay collection is a fascinating study of social politics during the 2016 Trump presidency. Though she travels back and forth through time periods in her life, they always end up at the same spot: the racial tensions and socio-political climate caused by the Trump administration. The core of the collection is Capó Crucet's analysis of race from the perspective of someone who has been placed on every level of the spectrum: treated as the racial majority, passing for another racial majority, and being a part of a racial minority. Capó Crucet's experiences of each of these shapes her analysis of the dangers that arise with a noted xenophobic racist in office.

Where the magic really arises in the collection is how Capó Crucet is able to find the metaphors for these complex, unpleasant issues within her own personal experiences. From the othering found as a first-gen student at an Ivy League institution to misconceptions (or inexperience) about white funerals and weddings, the center of each piece remains Capó Crucet as all the other themes seem to fall into place around her.

Looking back on this collection, it seems like a time capsule for an era no one (should) want to return to but continues lurking around the corner.

"Friend of My Youth" by Alice Munro (1987)

The blurbs weren't lying when they said Munro fits what feels like a full novel in each of her stories. Her prose is decisive, descriptive, full-bodied. The use of third-person limited (and occasionally omniscient) POV is smart here as it gives the reader a feeling that "what has been will always be." This intergenerational continuation of events is a theme prominent from the first story. Each piece bounces between generations, looking at people, businesses, place, and Canadian border culture in a way that makes every character and each decision they make feel inevitable (a phenomenon highly praised by Zinsser's "On Writing Well"). It is mostly Munro's views of place throughout time that hold the stories together. Arguably, the main theme here is "history" in all its forms (personal, geographic, cultural).

Munro does engage with socio-economic class, particularly the dichotomy of how the "haves" view the world versus the "have not's." In comparison, Allison’s "Trash" does something similar, but remains zoomed in on the experience and associations that come from being a "have not." Perhaps this is partially due to the POV (Allison often writes in first-person which gives a feeling of rawness and immediacy), though Munro does have an air of "old-school" to her prose.

This can be found particularly in romance. Munro's depictions of romance feel driven by duty, obligation to maintain the status quo, and occasionally, as a means for escape (literally and metaphorically). Munro's characters feel like they are in a relationship because they haven't a choice, and because of this, they are frequently unfaithful to their partners for the same reason. Again, if we are to look at Allison we see relationships fueled by lust, desire, desperation. They too feel like inevitable relationships, but mostly because the characters appear as though they need the external validation from their partner where Munro's characters feel they need it from society at large.

"Baboon" by Naja Marie Aidt (2006)

SPOILERS AHEAD

Aidt's collection, "Baboon" is unflinching in its examinations of the beauty and horror of the human experience. Primarily featuring incredibly unlikable characters, they do not appear as evil caricatures. A woman can abuse her son, a husband can cheat on his wife with her sister, an assault can unlock fetishes in a married couple, and Aidt's use of language, form, and style keep all the characters believable, often acknowledging the horror themselves.

What holds the collection together are the common themes throughout the pieces. Betrayal (often also seen as abandonment), resentment, family, vulnerability, and desire can be found in each story, some more so than others. The arc in which the stories are assembled is fairly standard, starting with the most striking and ending with the second most striking. However, the morbidity of the final story and the final line ("...he sites down and cracks opens his long-anticipated beer, suddenly feeling like a new-born with everything to look forward to") could also contribute to the story placement.

Perhaps the final story could also be pointing to another theme throughout the collection: resilience. All the characters learn to adapt to the horrors they experience, none are conquered even if who they are at the end is not who they were at the beginning. It's within this final theme that Aidt's collection becomes a master class in writing about the "real world."

"The House on Mango Street" by Sandra Cisneros (1984)

This book is a classic for a reason. Cisneros tackles themes of sadness, shame, and belonging in this beautifully constructed bildungsroman. The each story is told from the perspective of the protagonist, Esperanza with shifts in point of view throughout. Cisneros is excellent at bringing Mango Street to life by showing small snippets (facts, fiction, observations) of the neighborhood and the people who reside there. While we follow the protagonist, the book seems to focus on Mango Street itself more than Esperanza.

Cisneros is unflinching in her depictions of abuse, the desire to escape one's socio-economic position, cultural clashes, and perceptions of the "other." The book shows the connection to Latin, particularly Mexican, culture throughout, but through the "other" lens. Every piece of information the reader gleans in this book is done through a snippet.

Perhaps most notable about this book is Cisneros' ability to characterize her nouns in unique ways that demonstrate her training as a poet. One that stuck with me the most was her description of an apartment that "breathed" a musty smell into the hall, demonstrating Cisneros' ability to be clear, concise, and impactful in even a single word.

"Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence" by Adrienne Rich (1980)

SPOILERS AHEAD

Rich's "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence" is a thorough dive into the gaps in feminist study during the time period (1970s-early 1980s). Rich defines "compulsory heterosexuality" and evaluates the ways that it informs gendered expectations, the impact it has on how we interact with others, and the real-life manifestations and implications of this practice. Most shocking is the similarities we see between the environment that inspired this essay from Rich and gender/sexuality studies of the modern day.

Rich's main complaint is the interdisciplinary assumption of heterosexuality as "default." She argues that this has major implications for how women, especially lesbian women, navigate the intersections of femininity, sexual orientation, economy, and identity. She mentions how historically women did not have the luxury of loving what is natural to them as heterosexuality was required for economic survival via marriage. Failure to adhere to social expectations often resulted in social or even violent consequences, vastly skewing older studies about femininity, sexual orientation, and "womanness."

Rich also believes that how "modern" gender and sexuality studies are built on a foundation of female (particularly lesbian) sexuality as viewed through the male heterosexual lens. In other words, Rich wants future scholarship to consider heterosexuality as a "political institution" as scholarship does with lesbianism (637). She continues this by listing concrete examples of how female/lesbian sexuality is evaluated in erudition with the masculine heterosexual tilt.

Rich's article shows the shift between more archaic gender and sexuality studies to where we are today which, even by Rich's standards, is better but not where we need to be. This is most important to her as gendered discrimination is akin to other forms of domination. She ends the article by prompting the reader to achieve a better "grasp of the politics and economics, as well as the cultural propaganda, of heterosexuality to carry us beyond individual cases or diversified group situations into the complex kind of overview needed to undo the power men everywhere wield over women, power which has become a model for every other form of exploitation and control" (Rich 660).

"How Fiction Works" by James Wood (2008)

James Wood's "How Fiction Works" is simultaneously a wonderful and horrible starting guide for what to pay attention to as you embark in fiction writing. His use of examples can be inaccessible to those who are not familiar with the authors, but his use of example quotes is helpful in identifying some of his more challenging concepts.

This book works to serve as a step-by-step guide of considerations for fiction writers and readers, giving the reader a better vocabulary to discuss primarily realism or "lifeness" in fiction. He looks at characters, language, narration, narrative styles, detail, dialogue, and convention along with the history of literature that led us to what we recognize as a contemporary novel. This book focuses less on making a clear argument, instead dissecting the contradicting approaches to fiction by notable authors. If there is any concise argument to be found here, it's that Wood does not believe in a right or wrong way to approach fiction, just good and bad writing (all of which can only be delineated through context).

Perhaps what stood out most to me is the recurring theme Wood brings up: fiction makes us better at noticing life and articulating our experiences. He gives countless examples of authors describing the mundane, the extravagant, the pure, the horrific, all of which involve close attention to human experiences in the "real world." For Wood, literature is not only a tool for escape, but a way to call attention to what we tend to overlook in our daily lives.

"Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza" by Gloria Anzaldúa (1987)

Anzaldúa's "Borderlands/La Frontera" is informational, harrowing, dramatic, and sourlful. Remarkably, she is able to weave together essays and poems that inform the reader about her culture and how the modern understanding "Chicano" came to be. This book flows between Mexican, American, and Indigenous history into Anzaldúa's life, giving the writer a vivid picture of the foundation of her identity. To Anzaldúa, she is everything: an insider and outsider, indigenous and foreign, soft and strong.

This book has a lot of similarities to other female writers of color from this era: Maxine Hong Kingston's "The Woman Warrior" and Toni Morrison's "The Bluest Eye" are the most recognizable. All three discuss culture, violence, gender and its expectations, whiteness, heritage, and Capitalism. For anyone who has read similar novels or collections, Anzaldúa's poetic, blunt yet purple language allows her to remain striking and individual. What emotions and images she doesn't have room to capture in her prose, she covers in the second half of the book with her poetry and lyrics, reminding the reader that her experiences are both individual and collective, reinforcing the theme of "everythingness" throughout the piece.

"Lost in the City" by Edward P. Jones (1992)

Lost in the City is a collection of fourteen stories written by Edward P. Jones. The collection shows a personal look through various protagonists into the Black community in Washington, D.C, taking place between the 1950s and 1980s. The collection is predominately told in third-person omniscient point of view with only two stories deviating. The protagonists are a wide range of ages, from a child entering kindergarten to the elderly. Jones is unflinching in his writing, showing the dichotomy of “good” and “evil” within each character. He deconstructs the ideas that one who has run-ins with the law is inherently a “bad guy,” just as someone who seems to be a productive member of society can do strange, occasionally cruel, things. All the stories stand alone, but together, they paint an image of Washington D.C. that does not, as discussed in the story “Young Lions,” appear on postcards.

His intimate knowledge of place allows him to use Washington as a symbol for his characters, so the reader, just like Lydia in the title-story, finds it impossible to get lost in the city. Even if the reader is unsure after an initial reading of what the narrative spine is that holds the stories together, they can remember the vivid descriptions of the characters as if they were real people telling their real stories. At first glance, it appears that exploring interpersonal relationships and the location of the stories are the only two things connecting the stories within. However, the meat of every narrative is how the protagonist interacts with other members of the Black community within the city and the disconnect many of them feel with both the community and city alike.

"Understanding Edward P. Jones" - "Lost in the City" Chapter by James W. Coleman (2016)

James Coleman’s chapter argues that Edward P. Jones’s Lost in the City is tied together by more than location, but by Black tradition, community, and storytelling. To Coleman, these elements are what ties the collection together as a cohesive whole and allows Jones to explore the overarching theme of “lostness.” Coleman dissects each story highlighting the “lostness” theme along with justifying the story’s placement in the collection.

Coleman argues that the ambiguity and seeming disjointedness of Jones’s collection is not just beneficial to emphasizing “lostness,” but is also verifiably intentional. Coleman points out the flaws of the primary characters, driving home that their satisfaction, or lack thereof, can be directly contributed to their relationship to Blackness in Washington. This informs the focus of the chapter: showing how the movement through Washington, D.C. in Jones’s collection mimics the Great Migration from South to North. Depending on the relationship between the protagonists and Black culture and tradition, their position in the city changes. Coleman believes that Jones’s collection is a masterwork of weaving past, present, future, and individual relationships of Blackness. This chapter illustrates how a fiction collection can be organized and how seemingly unrelated stories can belong together and strengthen one another.