"Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall" by Kazuo Ishiguro (2009)

SPOILERS AHEAD

Ishiguro's collection is a marvel as a learning writer. His ability to incorporate audio in prose is fluid and inspirational. Most authors tend to either get too into the weeds of writing about music (isolating a non-musician) or end up mentioning a beat or artist's name. Still, somehow Ishiguro was able to *embody* what it feels like to listen to music.

No character outshines the other, no plot overshadows its collection-mates, if I were to sum this collection up in one word it would be: balanced. Perhaps what I enjoyed the most was the humor sprinkled throughout. Some lines were enough to evoke an audible laugh while reading, something objectively difficult to accomplish. A rivalry with a gondola captain, being the pitied third wheel of a dissolving marriage, tormenting a rude tourist, retrieving a coveted trophy from a bird carcass, and watching a non-musician musical prodigy giving musical advice are all plot points into which Ishiguro injects his humor. He is also, though small, humanizing moments, able to subvert reader expectations and remind them that the characters are worthy of our sympathy.

The only distracting factor for me was the inclusion of Lindy Gardner as the celebrity in the titular story, "Nocturne." With Ishiguro's ability to build characters that are memorable and unique, I wish that he used the opportunity to feature a different faux celebrity. I did enjoy her character, but I also think it could've been someone else instead of Lindy since we didn't get a lot of her personality from the first story, "Crooner." That being said, this distraction was not enough to inhibit my ability to enjoy this collection for the masterpiece it is.

"The Elephant Vanishes" by Haruki Murakami (1993)

The biggest compliment I can give a short story collection is: I never knew what was coming next. Murakami is a chameleon. His ability to transition between gendered POVs, varying styles (traditional prose, epistolary, combination), mastery of punctuation (frequently used to provide interiority or heighten tension), and subtle, subversive, surprising plots are something to behold.

Unlike Keret or Blasim where the surreal was the standard, Murakami only ventures into the surreal for short periods, breaking up the stretches of stories that are, more likely, held in a universe bound by rules like our own. The result is a collection that never feels weighted, one whose stories and style never outstay their welcome.

All the stories featured have a certain discomfort associated. The reader always has a sense that something is wrong, even if they cannot pinpoint it right away. Part of this comes from the aforementioned expertise in creating tension, something that the reader can recognize from the first story (not knowing who is calling the phone, counting the minutes of the conversation). However, the other part comes from Murakmi's ability to craft specific details that demonstrate what it means to *show* your reader what is happening. Perhaps one of the most impeccable skills demonstrated in this collection is how Murakami is able to describe sound. It's unusual to find an author who can take something audible and translate it into a physical accompaniment, which I find he does remarkably.

I will absolutely have to revisit this collection and take detailed notes on how Murakami is able to provide both substance and detail in such harmony. This is a collection I simply cannot get enough of.

"American Born Chinese" by Gene Luen Yang (2006)

SPOILERS AHEAD

I just love this book. Yang's ability to take a bildungsroman and make it new, imaginative, cultural, touching, and humorous astounds me. The beauty of this book is the layers it is able to produce: autobiography, myth, and visual and written metaphor. However, what I think this book does the best is show the impact of racist stereotypes on a human level and what it feels like to be a child who cannot be seen for themselves, but for their ethnicity alone.

The three tales of this story (the story of Jin, the Monkey King, and the Danny and Chin-Kee) are all hitting the same points in unique ways. The strength of this method is the reader is able to see how deeply personal it is to be racially profiled. From the Monkey King forcing himself and his followers to wear shoes, to Danny assaulting Chin-Kee, to Jin ruining his friendships after he's rejected by his white peers, each protagonist is hiding a piece of themselves.

Yang is careful in the details of his illustrations as well. For moments of significance he blacks out the panel background, only showcasing the focus character and any relevant text. After Jin is bullied for his dumplings and is accused of eating dog, he is shown only eating sandwiches. In these moments Yang is directing the reader without words, but with subtleties that I seem to always find more of upon rereading.

For any audience from middle school and above, this is an essential tale of learning to accept yourself when everyone around you makes you feel like an outsider.

"Me Talk Pretty One Day" by David Sedaris (2000)

Sedaris' essay collection is one filled with biting, dry humor. Unafraid to poke fun at himself and others, Sedaris shows an incredible ability to find the humor in death, addiction, and existential crises. His ability to characterize the people in his life through specific details helps translate the reality of them while also showing how interests, habits, and quirks can lend to the humor of everyday life.

The first part of the collection focuses primarily on his life growing up, coming of age, and discovering who he may want to be. The second part of the collection, primarily explores his new life in France with his partner, giving examples of Americanness outside of the American context. Through his own difficulties in learning the language, viewing Americans on vacation in Paris, and the juxtaposition between his view of events as a guy raised in the South and his partners' views as a child of American diplomats, Sedaris is able to paint what it means to carry one's culture and upbringing into a new "world."

Not enough good things can be said about this book and the insights it offers through the most unorthodox methods.

"The Twelve Tribes of Hattie" by Ayana Mathis (2012)

Mathis follows a matriarch, Hattie, and her kin in a series of short story-esque chapters that show the hardships and complexities of trying to raise a family during the first half of the 20th century. The locations vary between primarily Philadelphia and Georgia, with sprinkles of New Jersey and Baltimore as the characters try to find their place. This text is a bildungsroman for not only Hattie, but her children and grandchildren and continues to show the evolution of the family unit over decades.

The book is haunting in its depictions of war, Jim Crow, loss, grief, anger, and love. Each chapter is dedicated to a member of Hattie's family, some are dedicated to two ("Philadelphia and Jubilee" and "Alice and Billups") as the title character undergoes a transformational time in their lives. Mathis' ability to have clear, defined characters that are rounded enough to sustain each chapter is impressive enough, but I found I wanted more of all of them. Mathis also experiments with changing formatting and POV throughout, keeping the reader engaged as they zoom in and out from the family. The chapter, and my personal favorite, "Franklin" gives present tense, past tense, third person narration, first-person narration, and most astoundingly, they all fit together in a way that enhances the emotion and tension of the piece.

Not enough good things can be said about this text. I would recommend it to anyone at any time.

"How to Write an Autobiographical Novel" by Alexander Chee (2018)

SPOILERS AHEAD

Chee's essay collection, though framed as a craft book, is most alive when he isn't giving writing advice at all. In fact, his two essays dedicated to the writing process (one of which being the namesake of the collection) bring the momentum he builds in the other pieces to a halt.

From his discussions about being mixed race from an immigrant family (both living in America and Korea), his advocacy involvement in the AIDS/HIV crisis, being in NYC during 9/11, to his healing journey explored through writing and therapy, Chee is excellent at showcasing his autobiographical prowess. Chee is unflinching looking inward as he does not skew occurrences to paint him in a more flattering light, using historical parallels to help make sense of his internal (and at times external) crises. He takes horrific truths and makes them digestible, but never comfortable. The primary theme of the entire collection is "complexity." According to Chee no one is a clear hero or villain, privileged or disadvantaged, or even fully aware of who they are and what they are doing with their lives (or how that affects their place in the world). We exist in these essays alongside Chee, drifting in that nebulous grayness.

The layout of the collection is predominantly chronological for the first half, but as the essays progress the timelines begin slipping into one another, not unlike how we tend to remember things ourselves. If anything, this collection is pieced together through patterns: historical, personal, traumatic, and observed.

"A Small Place" by Jamaica Kincaid (1988)

Kincaid's "A Small Place" is a masterclass in blending history, culture, place, neocolonial critique, and autobiographical essay. De-romanticizing and re-centering the history of a place known, practically solely, for its tourism globally is no small feat, but Kincaid makes it look easy. While the book was written in 2008, there are details that show not only the lasting neglect of public spaces and care (the library, is the most notable example) over decades of administration after becoming a sovereign nation from the British. Her prose blends the reality of corruption, the impact of the British, the intergenerational trauma of slavery, personal experience, and shows how the current understanding of Antigua and its residents is shallow, only truly benefitting the colonial powers that brought Antigua to this place.

The last chapter/essay is perhaps the most dramatic. Kincaid zooms in on the "unreal beauty" of Antigua and illuminates the horrors that lurk in the shadows of that beauty. She continues by showing how each element of Antiguan life is representative of a colonial past. Speaking English, the newness of all surroundings that are free from "revolutions of any kind," Kincaid is showing the reader that a colonized nation, even if not currently under foreign rule, exists at the mercy of a culture, language, and belief system that was never representative of the native population.

When examining multicultural literature, particularly from non-Western authors, the perspective and lens offered by Kincaid is invaluable. Her analysis transcends economy, history, or culture as she uses the final moments of this powerful book to emphasize the scars that cannot be washed away from generation to generation.

"Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott (1994)

Lamott’s book walks the line between a fiction craft book and memoir. The book comprises four main sections, “Writing,” “The Writing Frame of Mind,” “Help Along the Way,” and “Publication—and Other Reasons to Write.” Though the book is organized by writing tips, the heart of the book is in Lamott’s experience as a writer, friend, daughter, and mother. The primary benefit of this book is being able to see the applications of Lamott’s writing advice through her experiences she shares. She finds inspiration for her work in tragedy, humor, and the relationships she builds with other creatives primarily in the San Francisco Bay Area and New York.

Lamott advocates for the creepier parts of the writing process, like eavesdropping and adding non-favorable details about people to avoid libel, while giving credit where it is due, citing the people in her life that helped her be a better writer. Writing is an isolating venture, one that is frequently plagued by negative feelings of self-doubt and isolation. Lamott comforts the reader, letting them know the horrible parts of writing are real and your feelings are valid. Though the tips Lamott gives may not make the entire process of writing easier, it makes being a writer feel easier, more communal, and authentic. After reading this book, I have new techniques I look forward to trying for my weak points—like ways to try turning a string of scenes into a cohesive plot and ways to combat writer’s block—and the reassurance that the difficulties I may feel as a writer are not mine alone.

"Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination" by Toni Morrison (1992)

Toni Morrison’s monograph is mostly concerned with the intersectionality between what she refers to as “American” and “Africanist” literature. The text is broken into three sections, “Black Matters,” “Romancing the Shadow,” and “Disturbing Nurses and the Kindness of Sharks.” Morrison argues that without African Americans, there is no “Americanness,” and thus, the Africanist presence is essential to deciphering the American literary canon. She uses examples like Willa Carther, Edgar Allan Poe, Mark Twain, and Ernest Hemingway to demonstrate the explicit and implicit nods to African Americans.

Morrison’s goal with analyzing the work of famous American authors is to highlight how American literature is inseparable from the presence of African Americans, emphasizing that African Americans were part of the foundation of creating what it means to be “American.” Consequently, Morrison is addressing what it means to write, read, and analyze American literature. She does this by breaking down “American” and “non-American” literature, looking closely at how social status and race are what determines “Americanness.” Morrison concludes by stating that her analysis is not to condemn American authors or the American literary canon, but to call for further analysis by present and future scholars to consider Africanism within that canon.

This book is useful when assessing the past of American literature, determining whose presence was the focal point and whose presence was erased or written about only in subtext.

"The Third Life of Grange Copeland" by Alice Walker (1970)

SPOILERS AHEAD

Alice Walker’s first novel, The Third Life of Grange Copeland, looks at the consequences of Black subjugation in the South from 1920 until the Civil Rights Era, focusing on the Copeland family. The text exists in eleven segments, beginning when the protagonist, Brownfield, is a small child and ending upon Brownfield’s death at his father, the title character, Grange’s hands. The book is written in a third person omniscient point of view, primarily following Brownfield, but occasionally featuring the perspectives of those close to him, such as his wife, Mem, or his daughter, Ruth. Grange Copeland, though not physically present throughout the novel, is the catalyst for the plot.

It’s Grange’s inability to care for his son and Granges’ anger at the inability to progress in Southern society that causes him to abandon Brownfield at a young age to head North to New York City, a decision that ultimately is the cause for his wife’s suicide. On his own and fueled by his anger, Brownfield mirrors his father, even turning to the same woman, Josie, for sex and companionship until he gets married to Josie’s niece, Mem. Mem represents the idealized version of Brownfield’s mother from his youth, though she is more educated than his mother, Margaret. He connects with Mem as she teaches him to read and write, leading to their marriage and shared children. As with Grange, Brownfield takes on work and lives on the property of the same White man, Mr. Shipley. Just as Grange grew tired of being worked to the bone without anything to show for it, Brownfield grows resentful and becomes just as abusive to his own wife and children as Grange once was to Margaret and Brownfield. While Brownfield grows up, Grange is in New York, unable to find any more success than he had in the South. After a turn of events, he witnesses a pregnant White woman begin to drown and after she refers to him as a racial slur, he allows her to die. This event prompts Grange to return to the South and re-enter Brownfield’s life. Grange buys a farm with his newfound wife, Josie’s, money and begins spoiling his grandchildren with fruit and attention. After Brownfield snaps and murders Mem, two of Brownfield’s daughters are sent North to live with family while only the youngest, Ruth, stays behind and lives with Grange. Grange and Ruth’s bond grows as he teaches her everything he’s learned and advocates for her independence and education. This relationship marks the third life of Grange, after his first life with Margaret and his second life in New York. Both Grange and Brownfield’s lives come to a violent end at Grange’s hands after Brownfield tries to take Ruth from Grange after being released from prison for Mem’s murder.

Walker uses her characters as examples of victims, heroes, villains, and martyrs, all demonstrating how easily one can fall into a toxic, violent cycle of abuse and the challenges one faces when attempting to break the cycle. Walker humanizes horrors, showing the complexity of a Black family in the South, struggling to be seen as people. Toward the end of the novel, Walker instills hope through Ruth and the time period, the Civil Rights Era, as if to tell the reader that work must be done, but it will not be for nothing.