Friday, December 20, 2024

The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2024, pt. 11: Rebecca J. Holden

 


2024, Interrupted Sleep, and the Magic of Audiobooks

By Rebecca J. Holden

 

I’m one of those people who have always needed my sleep—no I mean, really needed my sleep. And it’s not just about getting my morning coffee. I have always needed eight-plus hours of sleep to be somewhat human in the morning. Just ask my friends--I’m a bit of a monster if I wake up too early or stay up too late or, now that I’m a woman in my 50s, wake up and can’t go back to sleep.  A while ago, I started reading books in the middle of the night when I woke up. My Kindle with its built-in backlight was my go-to. I could read books without waking up my husband or the dog or whomever. It helped, but I found I actually had to put down the Kindle to fall asleep. Then I discovered the magic of audiobooks as sleep aids. I found that I could set the “sleep” timer on my audio book, listen to it via headphones, and fall asleep! This practice got me through many sleepless nights in my mid-50s, when waking up at 3 or 4 am became a regular thing.

The books I selected to listen to were almost exclusively mysteries and thrillers, all by women authors—because I wanted to read as many women authors as possible. Thanks to my library audiobook apps, such as Libby and Hoopla, I have an almost endless supply of these books. This year, I have enjoyed listening to mysteries by Ruth Ware, Lucy Foley, Laura Lippman, Alice Feeney, Sarah Stewart Taylor, Ausma Zehanat Khan, Kate Atkinson, Liane Moriarity, Angie Kim, Liz Moore (Thanks, Obama!), Paula McClain, speculative fiction’s own Elizabeth Hand, and many others. I made a conscious decision not to listen to science fiction in the middle of the night—except in rare circumstances—because for me, reading science fiction means I need to PAY ATTENTION. Afte rall, analyzing science fiction is part of my job—it’s what I do and also what I teach. When reading other genre fiction, like thrillers and mysteries, missing a few pages or specifics here or there, because I fell asleep and didn’t go back far enough when I started listening again was all good. If I didn’t like the book or it didn’t capture my attention, I stopped listening, went into my apps, and found something new. (By the way, I recommend all the authors listed above.)

When I starting reading and listening to mysteries, I didn’t expect much; I know, I know—after years of explaining how science fiction is “literature” worthy of study and doing all I could do to legitimize academic studies of science fiction, here I was, not expecting too much from mysteries. To be clear, I did expect to find good writing but not feminist, socialist, progressive stories rife with social critique. Of course, I was wrong. Certainly some mystery series and novels are what I might call fluff, but so many are rich, well-written critiques of our world—I found very few simple whodunits.


In fact, I would argue that many of the novels I have listened to cross into the speculative; some are overtly speculative, such as Hand’s mystery books or Atkinson’s time-leaping series. Some simply hint at the supernatural or mystical—I’m thinking of Laura Lippman’s Lady in the Lake. The television adaptation brings the mystical to life. However, I would also argue that how I listen to these novels makes each one of them speculative—at least the ones that keep my attention. If my nighttime practice is working, I will listen, fall asleep, wake up, listen again, fall asleep, and perhaps come back to the book for many nights. Time becomes slippery. I might hear a later part of the book and realize I missed something I want to know about, so I go back to an earlier place in the book. I listen, determine if I’ve heard it before—sometimes I don’t know—and then decide whether I want to listen (again) or move ahead. Mostly it doesn’t matter what order I hear the details in or whether I learn the specifics of the case—it all comes together eventually. Or it doesn’t and I move on to another mystery, happy to have followed the characters through their paces, relationships, and discoveries.

In light of the recent election, I feel that my waking life is mimicking my nighttime sleep book-listening pattern. The trajectory of our timeline is not linear. The sense of deja vu hits me again and again. The Orange Menace is president, again? Reproductive rights are a thing of the past? LGBTQ+ people are being pushed back into the closet? I could go on and on. As with my audio books, I am dipping in and out of a timeline that is at best disjointed and more likely, at its worst, is backwards and dystopic. However, I can’t seem to fall asleep—there is no sleep timer. Since Nov. 5, 2024, I have listened to full books some nights; the stories feel more real than reality at times.


Recently, when searching for a new mystery, I came across a new Lauren Beukes novel, Bridge. I knew before I started it that it was science fiction—but it was also a mystery. It was about alternative realities and traveling between them—moving between the many selves we might have out there. It was about finding yourself, your past, your present, and it jumped around in time, space, narrative voice, and identity markers. And in spite of my general desire to be “awake” for science fiction, it was the perfect “middle-of-the-night” book. I was awake for hours listening; or I wasn’t. I might’ve hallucinated parts of the story. I might’ve put myself into one character or another. I might’ve listened to some passages once, ten times, or never. Still, it transported me as all good fiction should do.

It also reminded me that we are not stuck here, not yet, in this post-Nov. 5, 2024. So while I tend toward pessimism—thinking I will never fall sleep or I will never finish my work or I will always wake up tired—I still find myself looking to fiction and art to create new ways to experience the world, to experience time, and to find something worth waking up for. 

 


Rebecca J. Holden (she/her), a fan and scholar of feminist, African American, and YA science fiction, is a Principal Lecturer at the University of Maryland, College Park. She has published essays, book chapters, and reviews on topics ranging from young adult Afrofuturism to feminist cyberpunk, and points in between, in The New Routledge Companion to Science Fiction, Routledge Companion to Gender and Science Fiction, Foundation, Science Fiction Studies, Oxford Bibliographies in American Literature, LA Review of Books, Literary Afrofuturism in the Twenty-First Century, and others. With Nisi Shawl, she co-edited and contributed to the Locus-nominated Strange Matings: Science Fiction, Feminism, African American Voices, and Octavia E. Butler (Aqueduct Press, 2013. She is also the editor of Re-Generating WisCon: the WisCon Chronicles, Vol. 8 (Aqueduct Press, 2014).

Thursday, December 19, 2024

The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2024, pt. 10: Sofía Rhei


 

2024 Reading Pleasures

by Sofía Rhei

 

 
 

A
 book that I think almost every reader can enjoy is Island of Whispers, by Frances Hardinge, gorgeously Illustrated by Emily Gravett. It’s about life and death, with the sea playing the part of one of the characters, and is a unique style of fantasy. As with other books by Hardinge, it really feels like a classic.
 

I loved Comet Weather by Liz Williams, first in the Fallow Sisters series. I had high expectations, wishing to find fantasy rooted in folklore and vivid characters, which the novel delivered big-time. I am looking forward to reading the next three books in the series, which have already been published by Newcon Press. 

 


The Book of Doors by Gareth Brown was satisfying and very clever reading. I couldn’t resist a premise involving portals and books. It’s fast-paced and beautifully hinged.

 

Fans of weird fiction and short stories will enjoy the eclectic and wonderfully creative collection Out of the Window, into the Dark by Marian Womack. Its themes are inequality, social and eco urgency in a literary and uncanny style of writing. Its short stories and poem span the speculative genre spectrum. 


 

ChloroPhilia by Cristina Jurado and translated by Sue Burke engages with climate change in an evocatively imagined future. The unique voice of the author gives a distinctive quality to her fiction. 



Sofía Rhei is an author, experimental poet, and translator. As a poet she has published ten books. She has edited the anthology Sextinas (Hiperión). For her poetry, she won the national prize "Javier Egea" and was shortlisted for the Dwarf Stars and Rhysling awards. She was one of the winners of the Dwarf Stars award in 2019, with a translation byLawrence Schimel. Aqueduct Press published her collection Everything is Made of Letters in 2019 and will be releasing her amazing The Deep Forest in Spring 2025.

Everything is Made of Letters The Deep Forest

The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2024, pt.9: Holly Wade Matter


 

 

 

2024 Pleasures

by Holly Wade Matter

 

 

 

Something(s) old:      


Of late, I have been reacquainting myself with Pretenders II, an LP my college roommate owned but I did not. (As such, since it didn’t accompany me through the intervening decades, the record is tied to that specific time and place.) I remember being disappointed in it the first time I heard it. Several songs struck me as too soft. I wanted the tough Chrissie Hynde from the first album.

 Now, as I’m growing more familiar with the material, I am finding beauty in the soft songs: “Birds of Paradise,” “I Go to Sleep,” and especially the sorrowful “English Roses.” Yet the standout track for me is “Louie Louie” (no relation to the original), where Chrissie Hynde’s lyrics are at their best.

 


Courtesy of the Seattle Public Library and Kanopy, I have recently begun to reacquaint  myself with the BBC Shakespeare series from the late seventies/early eighties. The production values are low, as is the video quality, but some of the actors are top notch: Helen Mirren as Rosalind and Angharad Rees as Celia in As You Like It, Derek Jacobi brilliant as both Richard II and Hamlet, Felicity Kendal as Viola in Twelfth Night, and Cherie Lunghi and Robert Lindsay as the perfect bickering pair in Much Ado About Nothing. It’s always exciting to see how different actors interpret Shakespeare’s characters.

 

Something(s) new:



Speaking of Shakespeare, I recently read a lovely book called Shakespeare: the Man Who Pays the Rent. It’s a book of interviews between Brendan O’Hea and Judi Dench. Judi tells wonderful stories of playing various of Shakespeare’s women over the decades. The book is entertaining as hell and helped me consider Shakespeare’s women in a new light.

 

The past two years have been banner years for Nisi Shawl. Their fantasy, Speculation, came out in 2023. It’s a purely delightful tale of childhood, ghosts, and a magic pair of glasses.

 

Kinning takes over where Everfair ended, reuniting the reader with familiar characters, primarily Tink and his doctor sister, Bee-Lung. The siblings have a mission: to distribute Spirit Medicine - spores that generate deep empathy (kinning) - among couples and groups. There is derring-do, espionage, and an exceptional scene involving a stalled biplane.

 


Nisi’s most recent offering, The Day & Night Books of Mardou Fox, consists of the journals of the main character – first as a child, later as a Beat poet, story writer, and children’s book author. Mardou, Black and a woman, learns how to navigate the mostly white and male Beat culture. At the same time, she explores her magical ability to slip back and forth “over the fence,” which she first experienced as a child.

 

Something borrowed and something blue:

While researching background for a novella, I checked out Songs of the British Music Hall from the Seattle Public Library

 Compiled by Peter Davison and published in 1971, this history of songs and the singers who popularized them is accompanied by sheet music. Some of the songs are suggestive, if not outright bawdy. Such songs were referred to by the artistes as “cerulean.” The book is an exciting glimpse into Music Hall and its culture and influence (which persists to this day in rock and roll).

 


 Holly Wade Matter's debut novel, Damned Pretty Things, was released in 2020 by Aqueduct Press. Her short fiction has appeared in Asimov's Science Fiction, Century, and the Bending the Landscape anthology series. She is a graduate of the University of Washington and of the Clarion West Writers Workshop. She has twice been awarded literary funding from the Seattle Office of Arts and Culture, and in 1998 she received a creative writing fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts. She lives in Seattle with her husband Brad and two house rabbits.

 

Wednesday, December 18, 2024

The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2024, pt. 8: Joanne Rixon

 



 

2024 Joys

by Joanne Rixon

 

 

 

 

Doechii’s Tiny Desk Concert from NPR ( https://youtu.be/-91vymvIH0c?si=52HkgG8b8noJF6gi )

This performance came out just a few days ago, and I’m listening to it (again) as I write this. Doechii is a rapper solidly a generation younger than I am; listening to her makes me feel young again. In a good way, like the first dawn blooming, like walking through a city I’ve never seen before. Her music is so damn intricate and precise and beautiful that it hypnotizes you.

 

OKPsyche by Anya Johanna Deniro  ( https://smallbeerpress.com/books/2023/09/12/okpsyche/ )


A complex, dreamy book full of magic and mundanity. I found it bruising but in a healing way—it contains a particular sort of grief, the grief of the queer parent cut off. It’s not the grief of death, and so you keep telling yourself it isn’t that bad. Your child still lives, and that’s what matters; it’s selfish to mourn just because you can’t see them anymore, and anyway they’re not really your kid. Not the child of your body, not a child who wants to claim you as their parent anymore. To be trans is, sometimes, the grief of not being an ancestor. 

 


Asunder
by Kerstin Hall

Asunder is one of those books that just has that je ne sais quoi that makes a good book something to rave over. I wouldn’t be surprised if it gets award noms this year, because it’s honestly just so fun to read. Charp, cosmic, tense, emotional—a triumph of a book.

 

 

“Inside the House of Wisdom,” by Tamara Masri at Lightspeed Magazine ( https://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/inside-the-house-of-wisdom/ )

Like OKPsyche, this short is also a story about being a person who is not a parent, not an ancestor, but only on a technicality. Contains descriptions of current, real-world genocide. If it doesn’t make you cry you need to get your heart right with your god.

 

 Joanne Rixon's short speculative fiction has appeared in venues including Strange Horizons, Terraform, Fireside, and Lady's Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet. They are a member of STEW and the Dreamcrashers, and are an organizer with the North Seattle Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Meetup. They are represented by Jennifer Goloboy of the Donald Maass Literary Agency, and you can find them yelling about poetry and politics on bluesky @joannerixon.bluesky.social, or at joannerixon.com

The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2024, pt. 7: Erin K. Wagner

 

 

Photo by Kathryn DeZur

 Annual Pleasures 2024

 by Erin K. Wagner

 

 

   

     Another year passed—and yet my TBR pile, my want-to-watch list, is higher and longer than ever. I have dedicated more time to truly unplugging from work so as to read and view the narratives that sustain me. And I find it immensely satisfying and optimistic that I never need to worry about running out of those stories. I think, at the end of this year, I am reminded more than ever how much it is art that keeps us going even as current events might make the work of creating art feel more pointless than ever. Don’t believe it. Keep going. Keep creating and keep consuming the art that nourishes us.

Check out what I enjoyed reading and watching over this past year. I finally sat down and read some classics/hits.

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my latest novel, Mechanize My Hands to War, forthcoming December 17.

 

What I Read



Babel
-17 (Samuel R. Delany, 1966)

I had never read Delany before now—despite having studied him in association with the concept of Afrofuturism. Babel-17 feels like the forebear of Story of Your Life (or the movie Arrival). Ultimately, this is a Sapir-Whorf story that examines how the language we use shapes our reality. And its female protagonist is satisfyingly kickass. 

 

The Best of All Possible Worlds; The Galaxy Game; The Blue, Beautiful World (Karen Lord, 2013-2022)

This trilogy is just the best. It felt like I had been missing it, like a favorite before I had even finished it. It is an optimistic series but one that doesn’t shy away from the big, gritty problems. 

 

Chain-Gang All-Stars (Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah, 2023)

This book feels like we’re zoomed-in close, mimicking the videoed combats (a near-future gladiatorial prison complex), intimately close to the competitors vying for their lives.

 

Lincoln in the Bardo (George Saunders, 2017)

This book hardly needs my praise on top of all it has already received. But it is a uniquely formatted book, and I am sucker for odd narrative choices. A celebration of life and death. 

 

The Mercy of Gods (James S.A. Corey, 2024)


A new entry into sci-fi/space opera that is smaller in scope—if still expanding across galaxies—because its interest lies so much in the personal experience of a displacing, dehumanizing event from which our characters must claw back. 

 

The Mountain in the Sea (Ray Nayler, 2022)

A quiet book with just the right combination of natural and man-made mystery. An investigation of what we mean by intelligence. 

 

The Poisonwood Bible; Demon Copperhead (Barbara Kingsolver, 1998 and 2022)

I finally read Kingsolver this year—despite the fact that the title of The Poisonwood Bible had long intrigued me (and, for seemingly no reason, I had associated with Sherlock Holmes). It was not a Sherlock Holmes story—but both Poisonwood Bible and Demon Copperhead—deftly explore privilege and marginalization, whether in Africa or Appalachia.

 

Translation State (Ann Leckie, 2023)

As usual, Leckie has provided a masterclass in crafting perspective—one which plays with gender and social construct in multiple ways.

 

The Wood at Midwinter (Susanna Clarke, 2024)


I am a Clarke fan. So even though her new work is slight—a beautifully-illustrated short story—I made sure to order it as soon as I heard of it.

 

What I Watched

Alien (dir. Scott, 1979)

A classic, obviously. I rewatched it this year in anticipation of seeing the new addition to the series. But seriously, Ripley is just such an awesome character.

 

Civil War (dir. Garland, 2024)

Gutwrenching. Brace yourself before watching this. A movie about art, news, and the consumption of both that stays with you.

 

Deadloch (Amazon Prime, 2023- )

For the crime/mystery fans. A truly intriguing mystery—but the mystery is overshadowed by the interpersonal relationships and the investigation of how toxic masculinity suffuses the police structure.

 

Dune: Part Two (dir. Villeneuve, 2024)


Beautiful. In many ways, less acutely but more deeply tragic than the first—where the scale of destruction is both personal and planetary.

 

English Teacher (FX, 2024- )

As a professor, I am a sucker for a series about educators. English Teacher is not a sappy, “they taught me more than I taught them” series. It’s a direct and witty exploration of modern educational dilemmas.

 

Fallout (Amazon Prime, 2024- )

Turns out cannibals and a nuclear wasteland is a perfect setup for comedy. My friends tell me it was dark?

 

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (dir. Miller, 2024)

You feel Miller’s stories in your gut with their frenetic action. And it’s nice to see Furiosa take even more center stage.

 

Godzilla Minus One (dir. Yamazaki, 2023)


A Godzilla movie that is as invested in its characters as the monster (but the monster is also oh-so-fun). And one that questions the glorification of war.

 

 

The Kitchen (dir. Tavares, 2024)

I watched this early in the year. A near-future glimpse of class warfare, dwindling resources, and the market of death/funerals. Tender and violent in turn.

 

One Cut of the Dead (dir. Ueda, 2017)

Hilarious. A love letter to and critique of the zombie genre. 

 

The Other Two (Comedy Central/HBO, 2019-2023)

How? How did this often-crude comedy end up tugging at my heartstrings and leave me almost crying at the end? Give it some time for the characters to open up to you.

 

The Quiet Place: Day One (dir. Sarnoski, 2024)


The theme of my watches and reads this year seems to be the examination of the small human experience against the vast backdrop of conflict or crisis. Lupito Nyong’o absolutely deserves an Oscar for her performance in this movie. The movie’s not unpredictable—but it hits the emotional beats well.

 

Rebel Ridge (dir. Saulnier, 2024)

An action movie that questions violence as a solution? It’s a paradox—and the movie’s presentation of race, gender, and structural violence elevated it.

 

Reservation Dogs (FX, 2021-2023)

I finished this series a bit late since I didn’t watch it as it aired. The last season was even more explicit in its exploration of how the past impacts the present—and how we can’t escape its systemic and personal consequences. A brilliant show. 

 

Return to Oz (dir. Murch, 1985)


A surreal trip that I saw for the first time this year. Despite generally being wary of surrealist film, this movie is just so over-the-top and keyed into my childhood Oz obsession that I couldn’t help but like it.

 

Search Party (TBS/HBO, 2016-2022)

Another dark comedy that manages to switch up genre season-by-season and deliver on its apocalyptic ending. We ended far from the simple murder with which we began.

 

Triangle of Sadness (dir. Östlund, 2022)

A critique of the rich--pointed and, in some places, crude. Thus, effectively spot-on.

 

Woman of the Hour (dir. Kendrick, 2024)

I didn’t expect to like this movie as much as I did. But I think it captured its theme well: the large and small terrors that haunt femme-bodies in our capitalistic (and game-show) world. 


Erin K. Wagner grew up in southeast Ohio on the border of Appalachia, but now lives in central New York, where she hikes in the Catskills and listens for ghostly games of nine-pins. She holds her Ph.D. in medieval literature and teaches literature and writing in the SUNY system. Her stories have appeared in a variety of publications, from Apex to Clarkesworld, and her novella The Green and Growing is available from Aqueduct Press. Her second novella, An Unnatural Life, was released by Tor.com in September 2020. Aqueduct published her collection of short fiction, When Home, No Need to Cry, in 2022. Her novel, Mechanize My Hands to War has just been released in hardcover from DAW. You can visit her website at https://erinkwagner.com/.