Books of 2024... So Far (Part 2 - February)
Catching up with some more quick reviews
I think in my mind, February always feels more like a scream into the void than any other month. Maybe it’s because my birthday is in early February, before it feels like just another month, while the freshness of a new beginning is still, well, fresh. Maybe it’s because it’s usually a pretty cold and gray month, with some moments of sunshine, a warm day here and there. The hope of change without the manifestation of it. Maybe it’s because the newness of the new year is just starting to wear off.
This February was difficult. January kept kicking me while I was down, but February felt like I was finally peeking out from behind my shelter, looking to see if all the monsters were gone. There’s a line in “The Bear” about waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it felt like, even though quite a few pairs of shoes had dropped in January, I was still holding my breath, waiting.
But I got through it. The time passed anyway. Even now, writing this in late March, I remember that it was a tough time, but I also remember a lot of the bright moments when the sun shined through. I got to cook a meal for my family for the first time maybe ever and hang out with my parents for a weekend. I got to play dominoes with some of my closest friends. I laughed a lot, with my roommate and with coworkers and on my own.
I’m sure that the books I read in February of 2024 will remind me of that thorny time, but I hope they also remind me of those lovely moments. There are so, so many of them if you know where to look.
Because of this arduous February, I might have been a little harsher on the books I read than I typically would have. I believe that most art can hit you just right if you stumble upon it at the right place and the right time. I will definitely be revisiting some of the books on this list, maybe at a more apt moment. When that will be is impossible to say, but I still have (seemingly) a lot of time to figure that out.
The Portrait of a Lady
Henry James
632 pages - 1881 - fiction, classic
January 26th, 2024 — February 9th, 2024
Rating: ⭐⭐
I wanted so desperately to like this book. When I was younger, I would shy away from “classic” literature, partly because I often did not understand it, but mostly because I felt like I could not really relate.
This changed when I read Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, a classic that was not taught in my school and one of the first ones I chose to read on my own. Not only did I understand it, I had not been spoiled for the (multiple!) twists and turns that the story took. And I found it enthralling. Since then, I think I have been chasing that high.
I don’t remember where I was recommended The Portrait of a Lady, but I remember hearing that it was a great classic that explored feminism. In the 2020s, “feminism” has a much different definition than it did in the 1800s. I think that disconnect might have been why I disliked this book so much.
It follows the lady in question, Isabel Archer, as she tries to decide which suitor to marry. More happens in the book, but that is the main problem that she faces, and I found it to be a little… dry. I was hoping for some great twist or epiphany at the ending, but I was disappointed.
All that to say, it was still a decent read, if you can stomach a lot of standing around and talking. There is not much action in this book, and most of the action comes from the characters explaining where they’ve been and where they’re planning on going.
I think if you’re looking for feminist literature, Henry James might not be the way to go. But if you’re looking for a “classic”, this one definitely qualifies.
The Sandman, Volume 1
Neil Gaiman
242 pages - 1989 - fiction, graphic novel
February 9th, 2024 — February 11th, 2024
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
One of my goals this year was to read more graphic novels and comics. I’ve always been interested in the world of comic books—I think if I was a 90s kid, I would have collected some series or another—but I’ve never had the chance to get into them. Realizing that the library had comics I could loan was a game-changer.
I am also the type of person that almost always has to read something before watching a screen adaptation. On rare occasions, I can convince my brain that it’s fine to do it the opposite way. But I refuse to see Dune 2 until I’ve read the first book and watched the first movie, which is a pretty daunting undertaking. Maybe I’ll randomly choose that one soon, but for now, it’s on the pile.
I wanted to watch “The Sandman”, mainly because I love Neil Gaiman. I read Coraline a few summers ago and was blown away by how it was somehow creepier than the movie (which, yes, I watched the movie first. In my defense, I didn’t know it was a book, and I was pretty young). American Gods was one of my favorite books, but I read it right before March 2020, so sadly I don’t remember any of it now. (It’s on my list to reread some day.)
I was curious to see how his writing translated into comics, especially knowing very little about the DC universe. I watched Marvel mostly, but I am realizing that I am generally not a superhero person. I don’t find those stories super compelling.
This one, however, I loved.
The Sandman is not a superhero by any means, but he is the main character; anti-hero might fit, although that seems derivative. In my mind he was just… him. The Sandman. Dream. Trying to get some of his things back after waking up from an interminable slumber.
It’s such a great intersection of fetch quest, gritty mystery, and apocalypse stories. Plus the art is truly breathtaking. I could have spent hours just poring over the glossy pages, examining the detail.
I also loved how accessible it was. They mention Batman once, maybe, but you don’t need to know anything about him. I’ve heard about Arkham Asylum enough to know that it’s where the crazy villains go. But that’s all I really needed to know, and even then, you can pick up that knowledge as you go along. Whether you’re a DC superfan or have stumbled on this collection and are checking it out, you can enjoy this story.
I think one of the things I dislike about most superhero media nowadays (especially Marvel) is that the barrier to entry is built so, so high. You can’t go watch a new Marvel movie nowadays and expect to really enjoy it unless you’ve seen every other movie, every show (usually behind insane paywalls), every end credits scene, every short released secretly on websites nobody has heard of. It feels daunting. This comic did not; going into it, I was afraid there would be a barrier, but instead there was a gate with a “welcome” sign. I was immersed in the world without any worry.
I’m sure I’ll have more to say after I watch the show (but first I have to read volume 2). But overall I’m just really excited about this story. Neil Gaiman truly is a genius.
Caesar’s Last Breath
Sam Kean
375 pages - 2017 - nonfiction, science
February 12th, 2024 — February 17th, 2024
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐½
I know that this book is not for everyone. I am a chemist, which means that I am also, by necessity, a nerd. I watch Jeopardy every single night. I listen to loads of podcasts that feed fun facts into my brain like I’m hooked up to an information IV. And I love reading books about science.
Sam Kean has a way of making science incredibly fascinating. That is not an easy feat; there are so many papers that have glorious, ground-breaking research but the language is impossible to parse and just sounds so boring. Books, on the other hand, have the opportunity to take those really cool things and actually make them sound really cool.
One of my favorite books is The Disappearing Spoon, another book by Sam Kean, that explores all of the chemicals on the periodic table. It’s basically a huge book of fun facts about one of my favorite things. Did you know that it rains neon on Jupiter? Or that bismuth is technically radioactive but has a half-life of 20 billion years? Or that some animals have vanadium in their blood, which makes it green?
I’ve read most of Sam Kean’s books at this point, and none hit me quite as hard as The Disappearing Spoon. But this one came close! I was an accidental math/stats minor and a purposeful chemistry major in college, and this book focuses on the intersection of probability and chemistry. Kean argues that, with every breath, you’re breathing in molecules that Caesar breathed. Molecules that everyone you know has breathed. And, for a little bit, at least, I believed it.
My favorite part of the book was about criticalities and radioactivity. Radiation is a crazy thing, and probably my biggest fear. The “Chernobyl” docudrama scarred me for life. But I find the idea of radiation fascinating, especially because it is so dangerous. Plus, the criticalities that Kean details in this book happened because of some real huge mistakes that could have been avoided. Maybe don’t make a pyramid out of bricks that, if one falls, will set off a nuclear reaction that will almost definitely kill you. (Spoiler alert: it did, and it did.)
This book didn’t have as many fun facts as The Disappearing Spoon, but it had a lot of information and hypotheses that I am still turning over in my head. I try to take a deep breath whenever I remember to, and now, when I do, I think about all the trillions of molecules rushing into my body. I love that you and I are made of atoms.
Everybody Has a Podcast (Except You)
Justin McElroy, Travis McElroy, Griffin McElroy
253 pages - 2021 - nonfiction, how-to
February 17th, 2024 — February 20th, 2024
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
I read this book because I like the authors. That’s pretty much it. I do have a podcast, so I found the title pleasantly ironic in a way that only I enjoy. (Check it out—The Emoji Podcast.) But I have listened to the McElroy consortium of podcasts for many, many years now, and I enjoy what they create, so I wanted to read this book of theirs.
It’s not a very interesting book, I have to say. The McElroy’s are, at least in my mind, very funny people, and this book is not necessarily a showcase of their comedic skills. There are some funny lines and moments, but it is not something they created to be funny. It is something they created to help you accomplish something.
The main thing I took away from this book is that I already had the skills I needed to do a podcast. I thought that maybe this would give me insight into editing techniques or recording equipment, but I found that all the advice they had was stuff that I was already doing. A little comforting, and a little disappointing.
But it’s not meant to be an entertaining book, and I recognize that. For what it was, it was a success, and for what it offered to me, I think it was mostly successful, hence the three stars.
If you’re a fan of the McElroy's, or you’re looking for comedy, maybe try their graphic novels instead. But if you’re looking to start a podcast, this book is definitely a great way to jump in.
Relic
Alan Dean Foster
309 pages - 1995 - fiction, sci-fi
February 21st, 2024 — February 23rd, 2024
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐½
I said before that I was being very stingy with my five-star reviews, and this one was teetering on the edge between 4 ½ and 5 for a long time in my head. Ultimately I landed on 4 ½ because, while it was phenomenal, I felt like it was missing just a little something. I’m not even entirely sure what. I think in other circumstances this would have been a 5-star read, no questions asked.
It follows the last human, Ruslan, a man who survived the bioengineered plague that wiped out not just Earth, but his homeland of Seraboth, as well as all of the other human-occupied planets. Ironically, in what feels like a “Twilight Zone” twist, sentient aliens find Ruslan right after everyone else has perished, and they bring him along with them. Since he’s older, the aliens want to study him, find Earth (since it had been hidden by humans during the plague), and start repopulating humanity before he dies.
Over the course of the book, they travel to different planets and meet a few different alien species, including one that is so human-like that Ruslan finally experiences hope before being brutally attacked. It is exciting, and it is beautiful, and it was surprisingly uplifting. For the first time, possibly ever in my life, I was proud to be a human. Ruslan is not perfect, because no human is ever perfect, but he is such a wonderful example of humanity, despite (or maybe even because of) his flaws.
Not to mention, the aliens are COOL. One of the alien species, the Myssari, have three genders and really neat social dynamics. The Vrizan are cold and brutal, but make arguments that they are more similar to humans than the Myssari, leading to some intense philosophical self-reflection on Ruslan’s part.
It’s an adventure story more than anything else. It is fascinating and often hopeful despite many failures. I had no idea what was going to happen, and that was really exciting, because the story could have gone so many ways. I loved where it went. I keep going back and forth on whether I like the ending or not, but I believe I’ve landed on the decision that I do. It does not feel like Deus Ex Machina; rather, in my head, it feels like the culmination of hope and perseverance.
I read Project Hail Mary a few years ago, and I was in love with the exploration of an alien species. I love evolutionary biology as it relates to aliens, examining how not only life would evolve but also how culture would evolve. In that book, eating is a grotesque act to the alien’s culture, but sleeping is one to be done among friends. I felt the same excitement reading about the aliens in Relic. They’re unique and extraordinary, but also plausible and deep.
It’s not a casual read, I would say. But I wanted to be immersed in the world and, oh boy, was I.
The Last House on Needless Street
Catriona Ward
341 pages - 2021 - fiction, horror
February 24th, 2024 — February 29th, 2024
Rating: ⭐⭐
Reading horror can be extremely hit-or-miss in my opinion. Stephen King churns out books like crazy, so surely some will be great, and others will not be so great. I’ve found some of his books only bearable, others horrid (in a bad way), and a few really gripping.
I don’t remember where I was recommended this book, either, but I know it gained some traction on TikTok. Usually I don’t fall prey to BookTok recommendations, but I think that’s because I already have so many books on my list. When that dwindles more (if it ever does), I might look to that source for some to add.
But this one was not a great endorsement of BookTok’s expertise.
I think I wanted this book to be scarier. I wanted it to be more interesting, or more exciting, or just… more. I don’t want to spoil it, but I think I have to in order to keep writing this review, so if you don’t want to read the main spoiler, just… skip ahead.
I find it annoying and honestly lazy to use mental illness as a trope or a character flaw. We learn maybe three-quarters into the book that the main characters are all actually the main character, Ted, who has dissociative identity disorder. His daughter, Lauren, and even his cat, Olivia, are his alters. So he never trapped his daughter in an unplugged refrigerator; it was himself all along.
At the end of the book, there’s a note from the author that she wrote this story to bring awareness to DID and show that people with DID are not always the villains. But I think her message fell entirely flat. The movie “Split” pushed back DID awareness quite a bit by showing exactly that, but I don’t think The Last House on Needless Street steered the conversation into positive waters any more than “Split” did.
Ted lives in a house that is basically falling apart. His alters, not knowing that he is them, believe that he is an evil creature, trapping them and starving them. But it’s him doing it to himself, right? So he isn’t evil, right?
In order to clear the air around DID, or other mental conditions, for that matter, we need to make characters that are staunchly not like Ted. Maybe he isn’t truly the villain (his mother is, for sure) but he is not a competent person. Most people with DID, schizophrenia, other conditions that are vilified in media are simply… people. To have that become a normalized belief, we need to make it a normalized belief.
One of my favorite parts of “Avatar: The Last Airbender” is how great it is at showing disability. Toph, a main character, is blind, and was born blind. She is the greatest earth bender of her time and invents new methods of bending. Teo needs a wheelchair after an injury. He flies around with the help of his father’s inventions and still tags along on many of the gang’s journeys. Every character, even those plagued with guilt and sorrow, are shown unconditional love. It is a triumph in every sense because these characters are not hindered. Sure, Toph needs to be guided around sometimes and cannot read signs; this is not something they skip over. But Toph is still a powerhouse and a fan favorite. She is blind; she is not incompetent or incapable.
Ted in The Last House on Needless Street is not as “evil” as we come to originally believe. But he is still not a shining example of DID by any means. People with DID can still hold jobs, can still have relationships and families, can live a perfectly typical life in our society. Sure, it might be harder for them, but it can be (and often is) done.
I would have liked this book better if Ted was actually just a kidnapper or a murderer, I think, and not a mentally ill and suffering man. I can see what the author was trying to do, but it fell completely flat, in my opinion. It was somewhat interesting, but it could have been much more informative, evocative, and compelling.