Tag: good book. read it, dude

The Count of Monte Cristo, again 

Part 5 in what I had originally intended to be four parts 

The plot 

Or,

Edmond Dantes; If God didn’t want me to do this he’d have killed me by now

Who we are to analyze and revenge ourselves upon in this section:

Baron Danglars, a former junior officer to Edmond Dantes who masterminded the plan to have Dantes imprisoned.

Now, appropriately Danglars is the last of the major players to meet his end, and would have the most brutal end by Monte Cristo ‘s designs had Villefort not fucked the pooch *so badly*. I maintain that what happens to Villefort is insanely brutal, which Monte Cristo agrees with. Monte Cristo is so repulsed by how horridly the Villefort family is ruined he debates if he’s perhaps made some error in the insane, decades long revenge planning. So much so, he ultimately treats Danglars with mercy. Eventually.

So, what do we do with a problem like Danglars?

Danglars rises from cargo master working with Dantes to being a very successful banker, though he lies about how successful. Edmond begins by asking Danglars for unlimited credit, which both exposes his inability to do so despite his purchased barony and title, but also ultimately causes people to divest from Danglars, particularly because of a foreign policy scheme which Edmond manufactures by bribing a telegraph operator to give false information on political upheavals and advancements. Danglar’s business is slowly eroded and he ultimately has to flee Paris–we’ll get to that in a moment–and is captured by friend of the plot Vampa who causes Danglars to increasingly barter away the rest of his fortune for safety.

Now there’s another anti Danglars plot involving his daughter Eugenie–great news, she’s a lesbian.  Eugenie is supposed to marry Albert but Edmond barely has to convince them not to get married. Then Danglars tries to make her marry Andrea Cavalcanti–great news Cavalcanti is one of Edmond’s plants *but hold on we’ll get there in a minute*. Eugenie has the best ending of anyone in the book, she runs away with her girlfriend and assumes a male identity to become an artist. Good for him!

Now that Cavalcanti kid. Sit down for this one, it’s the longest con in the book. and it’s going to be our transition to the final piece: what happens to the Villefort family.

Madam Danglars, who sucks, years ago had an affair with Villefort. She gives birth to a boy, Villefort buries it alive and tells her it was stillborn. Berttucio, thinking he could make a buck on Villefort sees him burying a baby alive and goes and takes it, assuming that Villefort was hiding some sort of money or holdings. Berttucio then ends up raising the child of these two assholes who is tantamount to evil. One day he beats up, ties up, and robs his caretakers and ends up in prison where his cellmate his Caderousse, the guy who failed to stop the plot against Edmond in the first place who I don’t think I’ve even talked about yet. He’s small potatoes. This kid. So Edmond tracks down this kid who is plot poison and he pays him/gaslights him into playing the role of Andrea Cavalcanti as part of a two man con with this other guy that’s pretending to be Cavalcanti senior, all so they can get him to marry Eugene and rob Danglars.

It comes out in huge fashion who this kid really is and that’s the impetus for Eugenie getting out of dodge while the parents are distracted with fallout. Sorry  we almost married you to your brother, also what?

let’s try to tie it all up with the Villefort plot….

Review: A Thousand Ships

A Thousand Ships by Natalie Haynes is a telling of the Trojan War from the perspectives of the various women experiencing it–conspicuously neglecting Helen. It is instead a story of the many victims and heroes that are largely unsung because, as Haynes puts it, the majority of war stories should not be told about only one half of the people. The men of the story are not heroes; Odysseus is a cunning and conniving as he is in an honest reading of the Odyssey and Iliad, with frequent chapter breaks written as letters from Penelope to her wayward husband growing increasingly hostile. There are also frequent breaks spoken by the muse Calliope scolding the orator of the stories for trying to steer them towards the men and their usual paths, towards Helen who Calliope has no use for.

Instead the full fate of Cassandra is discussed, the full fate of Hecuba, Andromache, Polyxena, Laodamia, Iphigenia, and others. It made me realize I couldn’t remember how Cassandra had died and that was a portrayal which stuck out to me sharply for how compelling and well written it was.

Overall the story was cleverly crafted and an extremely fresh breath of air for the topic.

Review: The Lover

The Lover
Silvia Moreno-Garcia

A novella at 42 pages, I had needed to get my hands on this as I adore Silvia Moreno-Garcia and, as you can imagine, I have a reading problem.
This is a wonderful fairy tale, absolutely perfect from start to finish; it’s just what I like in fantasy. The world building is rapid paced and engrossing, the characters likeable and believable, and the callbacks to fairytale story telling and monsters are seamless.

I feel I’ve been saying this a lot, but I look forward to seeing what is next from Moreno-Garcia

Review: Making It So

Making it So
Sir Patrick Stewart

I’m back on my autobiography bullshit.
At 432 pages, it would seem Patrick Stewart has a few things to say about himself.
I’ll say up front what I didn’t care for and that’s the few times Sir Patrick jabs in to comment on his daughter not forgiving him for his affair which destroyed his first marriage. Perhaps betrayal trauma is just too close to me, but it felt cloying. He mentioned on several occasions not feeling close to his daughter and that it was his affair that drove in this wedge, but not particularly anything he’s done to try and repair it. Instead it’s a wistful ‘I’m old and going to die someday, hope she gets over how I treated her mom’.
That’s up front and there now. Perhaps he has made many efforts with his daughter and didn’t wish to betray her privacy, but those comments did stick in my craw.
Sir Patrick does a brilliant job of delicately planting in that, well, maybe he wasn’t always a nice guy. Maybe he wasn’t always the least aggressive man there is. But he talks at length about how these outbursts he has had, spells of immaturity or being a rude coworker, are something he fears, in review of how his father behaved and what trauma he witnessed. It’s something that when he recognizes it, he strives to stamp it out.
He doesn’t hold back and he appears to be honest, and on the edge of that same dime, he doesn’t linger on failings. He lingers on his own insecurities and imposter syndrome, that he still feels regret and humanity, true compassion for his younger self navigating his career, and he lingers most heavily on his career. It is extremely clear and true that he takes exceptional pride in his work and in the people he has inspired, taught, and touched by his portrayals. It is how he feels he can do the most good, express himself, and be known, and that is beautiful. And it’s sad, too, because it’s clear in his few passing but repeated comments, he hasn’t been able to connect to his daughter that way. And that schism clearly bothers him. He portrays great gratitude for those who he can inspire and be close with.
The most prevalent thing, other than his clear love of his work and reliance on it, is how youthful his narrative voice is. Sir Patrick Stewart, for lack of better explanation, does not write like a man in his 80s. There is little sense of reflection but instead a sense of forward motion. He’s far from done.

Review: Written in Bone

Written in Bone
Sue Black

This is a horror story of a different kind.
While I was debating doing the Invisible Man or giving some hot take on Jekyll and Hyde, I’ve decided to go with Written In Bone to finish of this little horror month. It’s not a horror story, it’s also not adequately a true crime story, but rather information about the skeleton, piece by piece, interwoven with true crime experiences of the forensic anthropologist Sue Black.
If you have any interest in forensics, archeology, or anatomists then Sue Black is for many the definitive source. A fantastically intelligent woman with a remarkable career, she is also a careful writer who is able to bring much of the extremely dense medical information that she trades in to a general reading level.
I adored the case files she discussed, having very respectfully changed names were appropriate, as well as the better known cases which I was inspired to look further into.
Sue Black’s work in furthering anthropology is phenomenal, she truly feels like the quintessential expert on human anatomy.

Review: My Evil Mother

My Evil Mother
Margaret Atwood

Another short story, easing into the New Year. At 32 pages, another Amazon Prime original story, My Evil Mother details the relationship between mother and daughter and how one bestows strength. I loved the quirky but serious depiction of mother and daughter, the interwoven urban legends of witches and trauma, abandonment, and perseverance.
The depiction of the mother’s self assured, unwavering confidence as her daughter interpreted it pitted against her reality is both heartbreaking and aspirational.

Review: The Autobiography of a Traitor and a Half Savage

The Autobiography of a Traitor and a Half Savage
Alix E Harrow

This short story, at about 20 pages, has such vivid and beautiful atmosphere which I’ve come to expect in Harrow’s work. She has the ability to create such a complete world in very few pages.
The story follows Oona, a mixed indigenous woman who is forced by circumstance to become a mapmaker for colonizers in order to secure her younger brother’s safety. It is a gorgeous story of culture and revenge and I truly love Harrow’s ability to create a complete life and world rooted in some primal understanding of human behavior.

Please give it a read.

Review: M is for Monster

I’m never entirely certain how to review graphic novels and I tend to stray away from graphic novels and comics in reviews. Those are apparently just my recreational reading. Yet, I wanted to discuss M is for Monster by Talia Dutton in part because it is her first graphic novel and I think it ought to be celebrated and promoted.

An extended metaphor for accepting identity, a scientist attempts to bring her sister back to life following an accident, yet is repeatedly and vocally disappointed by the results; this causing her new creature to mask and question who she is in a world where she is not the person that everyone tells her to be. 

The art is comfy, possibly a strange description, but for a story which is Frankenstein-inspired some people might assume gore or graphic art. I find Dutton’s work to be beautiful and tasteful, as well as in line with a lot of other queer content I’ve seen that takes uncomfortable topics and twists them into elegant metaphor.

Review: How We Live Now

I picked this one up sometime after reading Insomniac City, also by Bill Hayes. This book is a small snapshot of New York City during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, in the early days of quarantining, and is both a love letter to the city and to community.

It discusses all of the things missed, with more of Hayes’ beautiful photography, and how we pang for community when it’s been unexpectedly stripped of us.

Like all of Hayes’ work I’ve interacted with, it’s sentimental and raw, honest and blunt.

I had seen some negative reviews of it from people who misunderstood what the book was about –expecting some intensive description of the COVID-19 pandemic and not one artist’s experience of it. The book is a diary in many ways and beautifully composed, written at a time when no one knew what was going on and what the future held.

Review: I’m Glad My Mom Died

TW: Childhood abuse, eating disorders

I read this one back in November 2022 and sat on it a while. I think the issue I had, which was nothing to do with the book at all, was that people said it was funny. They remarked, favorably, on the humor and care that went into the book. I apparently just read it differently. I think anyone who was been in some of the same situations would.

First of all, I loved this book. When I picked it up I’d been in a rut and was doing this thing of reading mindlessly. I would skim books then put them down. This book, however, I read every word. I am one of those people who downloads samples of books, first chapters, before I decide to commit. I downloaded this one impulsively while being my insomnia self and within twenty-four hours I had read the whole thing.

Jeannette McCurdy carefully details a dream so many impoverished families have–that one of their kids makes it. Big. In spite of the odds. And that includes a parent who will do anything to make it happen. I was struck by the tenderness McCurdy describes her mother with, particularly in a few biting scenes—her mother’s fond joy when McCurdy becomes concerned that she may age out of her Nickelodeon stardom and happily teaches her about calorie restriction to prevent growth. McCurdy describes it as something her mother seemed to have been waiting for all along. McCurdy details some of the techniques and rules, being taught to lie to doctors and how, by her mother, to support her eating disorder. She also describes casually pulling out one of her own teeth later on.

Another stand-out scene was McCurdy firing her therapist, someone she had come to rely on and confide in who accompanied her to events as an adult to help her manage her bulimia I’m public, after a particularly emotional trigger. She simply walks off and never speaks to her again because the painful power of the trigger outweighs the benefit of her support system.

There are so many points in the memoir where you think ‘well what else can happen to her’ and I didn’t particularly find it funny at all, more like I saw that vein of humor that many of us with abusive childhoods and eating disorders adopt. 

I that what’s most significant about the book is the conversations it starts and the depiction of poverty in America that is all too common and too rarely displayed for what it is.