Cannonball Read 13

Sticking It to Cancer One Book at a Time

Search This Site

> FAQ Home
> Tag: feminist

“The fact that they have families and parents . . . is why they shouldn’t do these things, not why we should forgive them.” #CBRBINGO – Uncannon

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo

by 2 Comments

I have had terrible luck with lit-fic so far this year, so it’s nice that my streak is finally broken. This book was great. Depressing, but great. And I never would have picked it up on my own except that it qualified nicely for the novel in translation category (non-European) for the Read Harder Challenge, and it was short! And very well regarded. So thanks, Read Harder! Doing your job.

Kim Jiyoung is a young mother living in Korea. She quit her job in marketing to stay home and take care of her daughter, who is now a year old. As the novel opens, Kim Jiyoung has been acting strangely, seeming to channel the personalities of other women with eerie accuracy. Her husband is extremely disturbed by it. At this point, the novel backtracks to take us through Kim Jiyoung’s entire life, from birth until the present.

The book is written (translated, but I have to assume the style is equivalent in the original Korean) in sparse, simple prose. It tells us matter of factly how the course of her life has ended up with Kim Jiyoung where she’s at today, even when the things that have happened are rage inducing. The book is also interspersed with footnotes linking to evidence to support the numbers and statistics mentioned in the book, in regards to things like the number of women employed at various companies, the number of women in the workforce after giving birth, etc. As mentioned in other reviews, the ending is a doozy.

I find it super interesting that this book caused such a storm of opinions in its native country (and then again when the film adaptation was released). The book is notable even here where feminist books and literature have been, while not common, certainly not revolutionary. But that is apparently the cultural effect this little book has had on its author’s home country, an author who wrote it based off personal experience.

Definitely worth picking up.

[4.5 stars]

Read Harder Challenge 2021: Read a non-European novel in translation.

CBR BINGO: Uncannon

Being informed is so much better than not being informed.

What Fresh Hell is This?: Perimenopause, Menopause, Other Indignities, and You by Heather Corinna

by 1 Comment

I received What Fresh Hell is This? as an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. It publishes June 1, 2021. 

What Fresh Hell is This? Perimenopause, Menopause, Other Indignities, and You came to my attention following emmalita’s positive review of it earlier this month. The title alone intrigued me, what fresh hell is this is something I say in my day-to-day life, so an author that chose to use it as their title would very likely be an author I’d want to read. That the book was about perimenopause was (almost) secondary.

I’m probably not in perimenopause yet (based on the evidence I’m most likely in my Late Reproductive phase where things start to go a little haywire from what they’ve been the past couple decades), so why would this book be something that I would want to read? The answer is simple: it’s coming for me. I’m a person with a utero-ovarian system which means this is an inevitability. Also, like everyone else, I’m living in a reality where the patriarchy has pathologized natural occurrences in the body systems of people with uteruses (or otherwise experiencing menopause). Information is quite literally power in situation surrounding our health, and as I experience some of the things that are hallmarks of perimenopause its time to get informed.

And what a fun time it was getting informed. What Fresh Hell is This? is health-forward, feminist, empathetic and practical guide that offers straightforward descriptions of what is happening in our bodies and how it effects our minds and lives. Sex educator Heather Corinna (they/them) gives practical, clear information that also includes affected populations who have long been left out of the discussion, those with disabilities, queer, transgender, nonbinary and other gender-diverse people, the working class and other marginalized folks. The inclusivity of this book goes to the length of including an appendix written by Joanne Mason about menopause as experienced by people who were born with testicular systems.

The whole book isn’t for me right now, but it will be for me eventually. There was an incredible amount of useful information, and just good level setting provided that reminded me to do what I can for myself to make this transition easier as it comes (or at least less confusing and scary). If nothing else Corinna’s ten points for managing stress are worth the time investment, but the book has so much more to offer.

 

For those interested, the top 10 for managing stress:

  1. Take on fewer things
  2. Deal with your tough stuff, especially any trauma and its impacts.
  3. Give less of a fuck.
  4. Insist other people manage themselves.
  5. Take out the trash. (Whatever the garbage in your life is, try and find a way to get it out of your life, head, or heart.)
  6. Move, rest, and pursue positive social interactions, even if they’re tiny.
  7. Do things you like that help you relax your body and your mind.
  8.  Breathe.
  9. Whatever it is, take a break from it.
  10. Close the stress cycle.

 

It was always exactly that bad

Not That Bad by Roxane Gay

by Leave a Comment

[Read as an ebook from the public library]

I tend to avoid books like this, because I suppose I’m yet another product of exactly what these essays address: Nothing that has ever happened to me has ever been that bad, and nothing makes that clearer than reading the experiences of others.

But that’s the point of collections like these. It is that bad. It’s always been that bad. The fact that we have to consistently work to squash and minimize and fit and qualify and hide and compare and contrast and compete just proves it. None of us are unscathed, and I think we know that, but there’s also some measure of weird misplaced safety in believing that it wasn’t that bad.

The two pieces that resounded with me the most in this collection were “The Ways We Are Taught to Be a Girl,” by xTx, and “All the Angry Women,” by Lyz Lenz.

The first details the points we give ourselves for the traumas we’ve faced. How many is enough? How few is still normal? “You could have left but you stayed. You wanted it and he knew. The ways we turn the gun to our own temple.”

The second is a clear portrait of what is left over when religion (or the patriarchy) forgives male abuse but sidelines, buries, stigmatizes female anger. “Jesus is allowed table-flipping rage. We speak of men and their rage as if it is laudable. ‘Men just get mad and punch each other and it’s over,’ we say. ‘Women are just bitches; they never let it go.'” (I am of course aware of the extra threat attached to Black anger – white anger is most easily forgiven, and the layers of unacceptability are deepest for justified Black female rage.)

This collection gives voice to many people with many different experiences. Some are excruciating to read. Some reminded me rather too much of myself. Some may remind you of yourself. And these are not just women’s stories about bad men. These are stories about women, men, families, structures. Whoever you are, whatever your experiences, there is something here of value for you.

Of course, you’re likely going to know if this is a book you should avoid. There are clear descriptions of assault, abuse, rape, and incest in these essays, and if that might retraumatize you, please give this a pass. But if you, like me, just avoid stories like this because the things that happened to you when you were 9, 15, 22, 34, etc. don’t qualify as particularly noteworthy while at the same time you work as hard as possible to forget or trivialize those same incidents, then you’ll likely find something worthwhile here.

Holy Moly

Circe by Madeline Miller

by 8 Comments

When (I read it): Late night treat-time only, when the pull of the book matched the pull of (spoiler warning) my bed.

Where (I read it): In bed, where my cocoon allowed me to sink in without expectation or judgment.

Why (I read it): A long-ignored predilection for mythology combined with a general crowd gaga-factor.

How (I read it): With great anticipation, bought many months ago to read when I could appreciate it. Finally got there.

In preface, I’m three books read by the first day of this third month, and only just starting my first ever CBR review. For the last six months I’ve been working to rekindle a love and habit of reading for pleasure, beyond personal growth. Three of those months saw books consumed without concern for wrangling that… remnant vaporous cloud of feeling; this is my challenge now and I was brilliant(/s) enough to A) wait a few months to do so, and B) pick a few doozies to inaugurate this parade, (The Goldfinch, Spinning Silver, and Circe). Here comes the awkward.

Circe is freshest in my brain and I’m most enamored of it. My familiarity with most of the classic mythology has atrophied so the feeling of being a mortal fly on this wall was immensely rewarding, what with its rotating host of ancient Greek celebrity and casual, blasé grandeur. Always grounded, she navigates her life and defies the sentence of her fate through the lens of this spare, sharp spear of prose, herself an unwilting, pricking bloom. No hyperbole or insult, that simple text could evoke this imagery, so pointedly, was a revelation.

“… gods are born of ichor and nectar, their excellences already bursting from their fingertips. So they find their fame by proving what they can mar: destroying cities, starting wars, breeding plagues and monsters. All that smoke and savor rising so delicately from our altars. It leaves only ash behind.”

In short summary, a daughter of the great Titan Helios is cursed with the company of jackholes. She becomes a witch as the world has never known and it opens-up her options.

Missing vital backstories informing this narrative, I lack the ability to do justice for this wonder. Having not read Homer, Ovid, et al., only learning these tales through cultural osmosis, there are huge tracts of knowledge I need to catch up on, though the story does not make it necessary. A welcome “further reading” section is provided by the author that I’ll make great use of, as well as a handy-dandy “cast of characters” section. Miller’s turned me onto belated study of the classics; I’ve learned of the various translations and am excited to delve. For that, too, I’m very grateful.

In truth, it felt like a modern, technical translation of millennia old texts by way of the varied versions of Homer’s works, rather than a creative expounding of her life, the import of her existence. My expectation is, it’s a more generous telling than any she’d been given throughout history. I understand Circe was rarely portrayed as a whole woman, but a trope-ridden sorceress etched into our psyches through millennia. The Circe that lives in this book does combine both in a way pride is never truly in doubt, that her birthright does not necessarily stem from her lineage but is earned from her centuries of toil.

It’s also difficult to review such a poignant, socially relevant story which speaks to matters outside my lane. This said, scorned Circe finds the peace of her existence in the spaces between violent encounters, gratifying in that she does not experience pure torture and challenge throughout the narrative. She lives a full, consequential life within these pages, and would wear the goddess’s role of a figurehead naturally, that of empowerment and earned pride. The tale deserves a *content warning*, as there’s a reason she’s known for turning men to swine.

I’ve been choosing my recent readings fairly well, this shares top-billing with a few others, haunting me. Having goosed old fascinations, not only of the tales but of the art of storytelling, I adored this. In my relative inexperience I’m at a loss to point to negatives. I ate this up. Maybe when I’m better read, it’ll be worth reviewing again and expanding. The expectation is it’ll remain a five star. I look forward to my next visits with Circe.

“I had been old and stern for so long, carved with regrets and years like a monolith. But that was only a shape I had been poured into. I did not have to keep it.”

(Pictured: “Circe Invidiosa” – John William Waterhouse)

The bow is the final straw.

Hello Kitty Must Die by Angela S Choi

by Leave a Comment

Extremely black and so relatable. Not to me personally.  I am the whitest person who could ever white.  But my husband is Chinese-American, and oh yeah.  My sisters-in-law would totally understand.  (Although their family was nowhere near this, thank God.  Because in that case, I probably would not be married.)

Fiona Yu, young lawyer in possession of a Yale degree and an amazing wardrobe, has put her foot down.  Not gonna get married, no matter how many dates her parents set up.  And also. she hates Hello Kitty.  No mouth, no fangs, not even any eyebrows so she can’t ever look mad.  But when people look at someone like her, that’s what they see.  Hello Kitty.

So when Fi runs into an old Catholic school classmate, Sean, he’s exactly the breath of fresh air she needs.  Someone her parents will never pressure her into marrying.  And definitely someone who is not expecting her to be a Hello Kitty.  Back in the day, he gave her some advice on how to handle a bully.  He had some experience in that vein after setting a bullying classmate’s hair on fire.  He wasn’t around much after that, but she never forgot his good advice.

And now he’s back, and a lot of fun in a hanging-out together kind of way, and oh, yeah.  A serial killer.  But he’s always got her back, and that means quite a lot right now.

Too bad about that loss of his sense of smell.

A Tolentino Gateway Drug

Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino

by 1 Comment

My boss bought me Trick Mirror, a collection of nine essays by The New Yorker, Jezebel, and The Hairpin writer Jia Tolentino, for my birthday this year. As usual, she’s gifted me something meaty to absorb that suits my tastes well.

The collection of essays in Trick Mirror includes a range of topics spanning marriage, the 2016 election and Trump presidency, life as a teen reality tv ‘star’, Big Tech, and religion. But it’s not just a bunch of millennial naval-gazing reflection. This is a well-researched, sourced, and beautifully expressed collection of essays. It felt like reading the nuanced work of a good friend – someone who shares my core values but brings a depth of knowledge to each subject that I had previously lacked. Her naturally fluid writing style meant that many of her essays would start in one place, but seamlessly flow to touch on a number of different topics before concluding. I am going to start following Tolentino’s work more closely, as her style of writing and expression really gelled with me. I feel as though she could pick any topic at random and bring something deep and meaningful to the discourse. That is a truly rare talent, and I’m delighted that Trick Mirror could introduce me to more of her work.

Of the nine essays, ‘We Come From Old Virigina’ will stay with me the longest. Tolentino, a graduate of UVA in Charlottesville, does not shy away from the serious and troubling stance of her alma mater’s handling of sexual assault. Through a reflection on the explosive 2014 Rolling Stone feature about a horrific accusation of a fraternity gang rape, Tolentino examines the fallout from that article as well as the long and sordid history of UVA – right back to the problematic role of it’s founder Thomas Jefferson. This essay represents the pinacle of Tolentino’s insightful, educational and eye-opening method. Most importantly, she does not shy away from her own blindspots and thoughtfully examines her own bias and privilege.

The only issue I have with Trick Mirror is that I decided to read it in 2020 – the year of mental exhaustion. I don’t know about you… but I’m finding it difficult to motivate myself to read books that tackle real issues right now. The endless cycle of outrage and political malarkey is wearing me thin, and this collection of essays touched in many of the issues within which I am already drowning. Most notably, the Cheeto in Chief.  Having said that, Tolentino handles these topics with a deft hand and great care, and once I forced myself to start each new essay I had a great deal of difficulty putting the book down.

I’m aware that I did not highly rate the last collection of essays that I reviewed, being Bad Feminist by Roxanne Gay. Both Bad Feminist and Trick Mirror are highly acclaimed by critics. Both give a platform to a non-white feminist. Both bring something worthwhile to modern feminist discourse. Both tackle the tricky issues. I can only guess that the reason Trick Mirror resonated better with me than Bad Feminist was that I learned something each time I picked up Trick Mirror. It was more than an echo-chamber for my pre-existing pop-culture and feminist knowledge. Perhaps it’s also her style of writing, for there is little reason else why Tolentino’s writing about the rise of Houston’s hip hop scene would ignite me, while Gay’s detailed essay on professional scrabble tournaments left me cold.

All in all: I rate Trick Mirror 4 Thrusting Barre Pelvis’ out of 5.



Help Our Mission

You can donate to CBR via:

  1. PayPal
  2. Venmo