Statistical Panic: Cultural Politics and the Poetics of Emotions

By Kathleen Woodward

Duke University Press

When I finished Statistical Panic I was left mulling over the ideas presented in the book for the next few days. A deeply theoretical exploration of the emotional landscape, Kathleen Woodward frames her book in American culture over the past fifty years, revealing the political, social, and cultural power that emotions have in our lives. She argues that emotions are largely undervalued in the social sciences, and that conveying emotional experiences can be a powerful form of communication, organizing and socializing.

An avid reader, Woodward allows personal narratives to help her navigate this exploration. Joan Didion, Toni Morrison, Virginia Woolf, and many other writers infuse Woodward’s theory with personal experience and literary sensibility that bring her text to life. Woodward also does an impeccable job of mapping out emotional outlets in the media from tabloids to politics and, in doing so, we begin to see why her incorporation of narratives allows for a more thorough conveyance of emotions in our media driven world.

Statistical Panic offers a thorough examination of the political aspects of emotions, something that contrasts with 24-hour news cycles, Twitter, and other media outlets that rely on shock and the quick turnover of emotional response. From shame to compassion, Woodward’s analysis bridges the emotional with the social and political, critically assessing emotions in a way validates their importance. Using Freud and Virginia Woolf, Woodward scrutinizes anger. She ties this to the social implications of experiencing anger as a woman and moves into a discussion on the uses of anger in feminist writings. Jean-Paul Sartre and Toni Morrison help guide Woodward’s understanding of shame and how it operates in a society wrought with sexism and racism. Part of what makes Statistical Panic such a powerful read is Woodward’s insistence on including “experts” like Sartre and Freud, while at the same time refusing to examine emotions in the vacuum of white male privilege. As a result, the scope of Woodward’s work is immense, offering the reader an enormous wealth of theory, social analysis and of course, literature.

When Woodward’s analysis moves to the political realm we begin to understand the tangible consequences of what she calls “statistical panic,” and how this has legislative and bureaucratic repercussions. First Woodward discusses compassion, both analyzing liberal guilt and compassionate conservatism (something the George W. Bush familiarized the nation with) as tools of organizing. Woodward also covers bureaucratic rage, a growing phenomenon due to the horrendous state of health care and finally, statistical panic, a feeling that Americans have been inundated with over the past fifty years, and even more so since September 11th.

Statistical Panic offers a critical exploration of emotions, how they are used for political gain, how they normatively reinforce social inequality, and how their subversion can combat the same inequalities. Woodward offers emotions as a source of political and social mobility, and her writing challenges us to be critical of the way statistical panic is used. She urges us complicate our understanding of our own emotional responses to everything from personal relationships to Twitter feeds.

Review by Lizzy Shramko

Miss Don't Touch Me

By Hubert & Kerascoet

NBM Publishing

Miss Don't Touch Me is the story of a girl, Blanche, who works with her sister, Agatha, as a live-in maid in Paris at the turn of the twentieth century. When Blanche witnesses her sister’s murder, her world is destroyed. People think Agatha committed suicide, and nobody will believe Blanche. She goes on a mission to avenge Agatha’s death, which takes her into a realm of prostitution, murder, and deceit.

It is both hard to believe and a relief that Agatha can manage to work at a brothel and not even have to take off her clothes. She is a virgin and does not want to “sell [her] virtue” (emphasis mine). So she presents her conundrum of sorts to the madam boss, who offers her the ideal position: a “virgin of steel” dominatrix who “whips, but [is] not to be touched.”

This setup, however, reinforces the virgin/whore duality in the novel. Blanche’s virginity is the main characteristic that differentiates her from every other woman from this point forward, something that even induces hatred toward her from some of the “whores.” One of them even cuts off Blanche’s long dark hair in her sleep, thickening the line that separates them. Blanche only gets along with the two other “special girls” in the brothel: Annette, who looks stereotypically angelical but harbors a dark secret, and the “madame/monsieur” Miss Josephine, her gender-bending confidante and the only other prostitute in the brothel with short hair. The authors have made it clear that Blanche does not belong on the “whore” side of the dichotomy through her asexuality, her appearance, and her very name (“blanche” means “white” in French).

Does this graphic novel stretch the virgin/whore dichotomy to create a new space? What’s for sure is that Blanche is gutsy, clever, cunning, and even cruel. She’s good-looking enough to be a prostitute but has chosen another route. She’s also goal-driven and steadfast. But, her character is not very believable. Not only is her character an amalgam of her aforementioned traits; there are also problems in the narrative that affect her credibility as a character.

The novel reads quickly, and it is enjoyable. But something feels amiss throughout. The authors at times skip from one crucial scene to the next. For example, when Blanche's sister Agatha is murdered, Blanche's life suddenly changes drastically. Blanche, naturally, cries over her dead sister following her murder—and then never does it again. We aren't even told why this is; is Blanche the kind to bury her feelings? She does not seem to be that at all. What’s more, she’s impulsive precisely because she can’t seem to control them. So what gives?

These missing feelings and thoughts—which are ostensibly the very engine behind the plot—make Blanche seem at times incongruous and even robotic. Something important is lacking. While she does think about Agatha and does all she can to avenge her death, Blanche lacks the corresponding depth. And while no other characters display notable depth either, one would think that at least the main protagonist of the novel would. Alas, this is not the case. When she sheds blood, she doesn’t even blink.

The illustrations are sketchy but defined; each character is visually unequivocal from the next. Nudity is ubiquitous, as is to be expected, as well as uninhibited, which shows in the casual lines traced by Kerascoet. There is much play between light and shadow, and although sometimes there are so many details in one panel that you must squint to find what you’re looking for, overall the drawings are sharp and witty.

In the end, this novel is a sassy and even controversial murder mystery that will entertain. It would be even more pleasing if it finished what it started.

Review by Natalia Real

The Dhamma Brothers: East Meets West in the Deep South

Directed by Jenny Phillips, Anne Marie Stein, and Andrew Kukura
Freedom Behind Bars Productions

What would happen if the American prison system was based on a treatment model versus a punitive model? The administrators at the W. E. Donaldson Correctional Facility wondered what would happen if they introduced the ancient Vipassana meditation techniques to prisoners. The Vipassana program is modeled after a program in India. The administrators hoped that the Vipassana meditation program would have a calming effect on the prison population. Donaldson Correctional Facility is a maximum security prison located in the countryside southwest of Birmingham, Alabama. The facility houses about 1,500 prisoners with sentences ranging from six months to life terms. The administrators decided to offer a Vipassana retreat for prisoners who wanted to participate in the program. Participants would be required sit in silent meditation for ten days. Vipassana is the Theravada Buddhism mediation technique known as Insight meditation. Vipassana requires the mediator focus the concentrated mind on suffering, impermanence, and lack of the enduring self. The program would allow the inmates to deal with their anger and to rise above the prison culture of revenge, hatred, and retaliation.

The program was met with skepticism from prison officials and local residents. Prison officials feared that some inmates would use the program as a way to get out of being in the prison block and they would not really devote themselves fully to the program. There was also resistance to teaching Buddhist meditation techniques to predominately Christian prison population.

I found the documentary to be very interesting and inclusive of the viewpoints of prison administrators, inmates, community members, and teachers. According to the directors of the film, The Dhamma Brothers seeks to tell the story of spiritual development and the formation of a bond of brotherhood among inmates in maximum security facility. The film focuses on a select group of inmates and their search for a sense of peace and redemption.

The inmates who participated in the mediation retreat did take the program seriously and were profoundly changed. The prisoners were able to take the time in the silent retreat to explore the sensations driving their behavior. Many of the participants were able to confront their emotions and learned to forgive themselves as well as other people in their lives. Inmates continued to meet for mediation groups after they graduated from the program, but they had to discontinue meetings due to opposition from the prison chaplain in 2002. Meditation groups were able to resume meetings in 2006 when the prison administration changed. Rick Smith, an inmate serving a life sentence and who participated in the program, summed up his feelings by saying, “I thought my biggest fear was growing old in prison. I realized my biggest fear was growing old and not knowing myself.”

Review by Rekesha Spellman

Camille Jones – Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Tommy Boy

You either love European electronica or you hate it. Growing up in a very Mid-American rave scene, I like to believe I’ve moved beyond partying in vacant co-opted strip malls and refined my tastes in all things club music. Camille Jones is a Danish pop singer and producer, but thankfully for her international audience, she sings her breathy tracks in English. Best known for her 2004 single “The Creeps,” Jones’ new release, Barking Up The Wrong Tree is an excellent example of what modern Euro electropop can be.

Maybe your definition of club is not mine. Just because I used to wear those embarrassing homemade bead bracelets doesn’t mean I haven’t grown up, nor does it mean I adopted tube top club culture. I don’t need to get all sweaty and writhe around on the dance floor, deafened by amps pumping DJ music. I’m perfectly content for the “club” to consist of uncomfortable couches, Moroccan-themed appetizers, overpriced unpronounceable drinks, and a tiny corner for the turntables. From the unobtrusive speakers, I expect to hear mellow, uncomplicated jams like Jones’.

“Difficult Guys” immediately became my repeat-one song of the week—press play, let it cycle through again and again. In addition to the booty-shakin’ beat, I kept wondering about her reference to liking “difficult guys, ordinary girls know they shouldn’t fall for.” Is Jones yet another single straight gal trying to hook up with her gay male pals? “They don’t like girls/I’m barking up the wrong tree.” I once kissed my gay best friend before he came out. Luckily, I learned that lesson young.

Jones’ songs are not overtly feminist, but they’re a pleasurable enough listen and make a solid addition to a soundtrack of understated female dance pop. “I Am (What You Want Me To Be)” is either a nod to conformity—in Danish, there’s a concept called janteloven that might be appropriate to employ here—or a big ironic middle finger to anyone with expectations. I suspect the former, but I retain high hopes for discovering rebel Danes.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Love and Other Natural Disasters

By Holly Shumas

5 Spot

This is your life, now what?

This is the question Eve has to answer when she finds out during Thanksgiving dinner that her husband, Jon, has been having a long distance emotional affair with another woman for the past year. Eve is devastated and demands that Jon move out that night. Jon complies and leaves their house. Eve’s feeling of betrayal and mistrust lead her to start hacking Jon’s email in order to find out more about the other woman, Laney. Eve reads all Jon’s correspondence with Laney, but she is unable to figure why Jon lied to her for a year. Eve questions Jon’s motives for the past year of their marriage. The affair causes Eve to reexamine her life as well. She truly wants to figure out what she wants out of life and from her marriage. Eve wonders about the “what-ifs” in her life (getting pregnant, marrying Jon) and what her life would be like if she had not married Jon.

Eve and Jon must also deal with the judgment of family and friends. Eve and John’s friends and family feel that if Jon did not have sex with Laney, then all should be fine with the marriage. After all, it was just an emotional affair. But Eve does not see it that way. Eve cannot understand why her husband would spend a year secretly communicating with another woman, confiding in her and sharing details of their marriage. Lil, Eve’s friend, sums it up when she says, “If he were having sex with the woman, you could chalk the whole thing up to novelty. It could be that he was so overcome by lust that he lost his mind for a while. You could even say he was so hot for her that he mistook it for love, and once they go thinking it’s love, well, everything’s fair game. But a year of emails phone calls—that’s about his mind and his heart, not just his dick. Call me crazy, but the dick’s preferable.”

Love and Other Natural Disasters is not typical chick lit. Holly Shumas’s perspective as a licensed family therapist allows her to get into the complications of fidelity and emotional intimacy in the novel. Eve learns more about herself during the time that she and Jon are part. Eventually, Eve and Jon learn to deal with their anger and to forgive each other. They both take responsibility for their actions and their relationship. Although Eve and Jon decide to take another chance on their marriage, their future is uncertain.

Although the actions of Eve and Jon were at times annoying and frustrating, I found Love and Other Natural Disasters to be an enjoyable book. I wanted to know what happened to the characters and how their problems were resolved.

Review by Rekesha Spellman

Gold Dust on His Shirt: The True Story of an Immigrant Mining Family

By Irene Howard

Between The Lines

When you think about migrant memoirs of North America, stories of moving north from Latin America often come to mind more than those detailing moves east and west. Flipping around that common assumption, Gold Dust on His Shirt tells the story of Irene Howard’s Swedish-Norwegian immigrant family’s tumultuous life in Canada at the turn of the twentieth century.

After the death of her first husband in Norway, Howard’s mother Ingeborg immigrated to Canada. She left her young daughter Inga behind with the child’s grandparents, promising to send for Inga as soon as she was settled. Instead, once she arrived in Prince Rupert (in current day British Colombia), she met and married a Swede, Nils Alfred in 1913. Only seven years after Norway had gained its independence from Sweden, the couple felt—and was—thousands of miles from the political controversies of their homeland. Six months later, Ingeborg gave birth to their first son, Swedish-Norwegian-Canadian Arthur Ingemar.

Over the years, Ingeborg and Alfred had several more children—Verner Erik, Nels Edwin, Irene—and were uprooted from their home several times. Alfred’s job working on the railroad demanded that the family relocate as work became available. As Alfred became involved with the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) and began mobilizing other immigrant workers, his job prospects were often limited due to his radical organizing.

Reading about language barriers, death by tuberculosis or mine collapse, police raids, and workers’ struggles against mining companies is a sobering experience. Living a reverse tale of sorts—an American in Denmark, mostly unable to speak Danish—I have a lot of empathy for the characters in this story. I also suspect that my own Norwegian background and my adopted Danish family made this a more interesting tale for me. I didn’t mind reading about characters named Sigurd Ullstreng, Olav Trygvasson, and Elling Erikssen Aarvig. For me, it was a bit comforting and homey—or “hygge,” as we say in Danish.

Howard’s history is fascinating, though her presentation is a bit dry. At times, the book reads like a genealogy scrapbook instead of a memoir, listing people and events in a factual if uninspiring way. For history buffs, this is no doubt enjoyable. I will admit to struggling at times to wade through the details of a time and place with which I have no real familiarity. Yet Howard’s story is valuable and often untold, and her objective storytelling—in which she often removes herself entirely from the narrative, even though she lived through the same events—is a refreshing departure from the self-centered account most memoirs provide. I suspect I will revisit this book for years to come, perhaps as my roots deepen and spread among the Nordic states and North America.

Howard was born in 1922 amidst her father’s career change from mining to fishing. That she has survived the last eighty-seven years—three less than my own still-living Norwegian grandmother—with her story intact, now fully documented and published, is no small feat. In Norwegian, we say, “gratulerer”—congratulations.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Free From Lies: Discovering Your True Needs

By Alice Miller

Translated by Andrew Jenkins

WW Norton

In her latest study, Free From Lies, famed psychologist Alice Miller examines the way child abuse shapes the psyche and the effect it can have on humanity. While the human brain has an incredible ability to normalize traumatic events, Miller argues that abuses suffered in childhood can never truly be repressed. It appears as though humanity is suffering from a collective amnesia regarding the wrongs we suffered in infancy. These wrongs, according to Miller, will manifest themselves later in life. We see evidence of this everywhere—in the form of domestic abuse, war, and genocide—all of which are prominent throughout our history. Those who have been able to break away from the cycle of abuse (a minority of about ten percent) are not without their problems, often suffering from serious health conditions later on in life.

Miller argues that humanity has, for the most part, come to define child abuse as "good parenting." The negative implications of this are two-fold: first, the child develops conflicting views regarding their parents, who act simultaneously as care-giver and as tyrant, and secondly, that the general, worldwide acceptance of child abuse will ensure it is passed down from generation to generation.

Miller examines horrific dictators like Adolph Hitler, revered icons like Marilyn Monroe, serial killers, and domestic abusers. While the common denominator among her subjects is, of course, child abuse, Miller looks at the way her subjects have been psychoanalyzed. She argues that history tends to analyze and treat severely traumatized and/or psychotic adults by looking at the symptoms of their pain rather than determining the causes of it. Miller stresses the importance of asking the right questions when dealing with these seemingly traumatized adults. This, according to Miller, is the only way to determine the root cause of abuse and determine the appropriate course of therapy.

Free from Lies is a logical, well-documented study that examines the ideologies that society has been reluctant to confront. Miller challenges others in her field head-on, wondering aloud why some child psychologists continue to deny and document the existence of child abuse. Not only is her fearless study convincing and engaging, the book is also extremely readable. Miller's approach to writing is refreshingly no-nonsense; she refrains from padding her observations with diatribes and academic-speak, ensuring her work can be read and enjoyed by a mainstream audience.

A compelling read, Free from Lies belongs on the bookshelves of everyone from the novice to the well-seasoned psychoanalyst. This important study has all the trimmings of a classic in the making and it is bound to invite and create debate and dissection for many years to come. The study is best appreciated through multiple reading as it will reveal new truths and insights each time. If we want to better our communities, it is imperative we understand our own inner-workings. Free from Lies will serve as an excellent aid by promoting open discussion and release from our own forgotten abuses.

Review by Cheryl Santa Maria

Margo Reymundo – My Heart’s Desire

I’m tossing my reviewer’s hat on the floor for this album because it’s hard to be objective about a record that I loved from the first time I played it. I tend to associate certain albums or songs with a memory or time that stands out in my mind, and I will always associate this one with summer 2009.

When I listen to Margo Reymundo’s music, there’s a lightness and carefree quality to it that makes the day seem just a little brighter even on an overcast day. It’s almost like taking a mental vacation and imagining yourself on a tropical beach drinking margaritas. But don't mistake that lightness for a lack of substance because Reymundo is no artistic slouch when it comes to her vocals and instrumentation.

Reymundo describes her sound as “Organica.” She describes Organica as “articulating a world constructed of unfettered vocals that rivals anything created with a synthesized sound.” Whether it’s the jazzy pop sound of the title track “My Heart’s Desire,” or her unique take on Sting’s “Wrapped Around Your Finger,” Reymundo has a unique appeal that transcends artistic and cultural boundaries.

My favorite song is “You Belong to Me,” a Euro-rhythmic version of the Carly Simon classic. Reymundo’s Mexican roots are apparent in her bilingual lyrics and the guitar instrumentation that is reminiscent of the Gipsy Kings. Reymundo isn’t afraid to tackle these classics and make them her own while somehow remaining true to the original. For example, hearing her sing “Ain’t No Sunshine” makes you forget that the song is about a man missing a woman. I don't think I’ve ever heard a woman cover that song before, but by the end of the song, I’m a convert.

Reymundo has an interesting life story. She is a classically trained singer who has been singing since the age of four. Her father, a cliff diver in Acapulco and her mother, a flamenco dancer, came to the states (Dallas, Texas) when Margo was one year old in search of a better life. The rest, as they say, is history.

Review by Gita Tewari

White Elephant Necklace / Raspberry Earrings / Pig Earrings

I am so thankful that my fabulously dainty ‘white elephant’ necklace does not live up to its name. Neither a possession of disproportionate upkeep costs, or a regift from a bad party game, the newest tiny charm on a chain comes courtesy of Cornyness, a delightful online jewelry shop.

Cornyness, run by a super nice gal named Danwei, offers a variety of handmade accessories to suit just about anyone with a taste for the quirky and cute. From earrings to phone charms to fuzzy pendants, every creation is handmade, “unique and made with love.” Never garish or bulky, most items are on the small side while still remaining fashionably noticeable.

For a veg head like myself, few accessories are cuter or more appropriate than dainty earrings of raspberries and pigs, respectively. Pigs—the fourth smartest animal, mind you—are some of my favorite four-legged friends, and what better way to proclaim my love of curly tails and oinks of joy? Have you ever given a pig a back scratch? You really oughta try it. You may have pandemic-related concerns, but maybe you could at least start with some dangly little charms to warm up to our pink pals.

Shop merchandise rotates regularly and the site even features a “sold out gallery” with some of the recent popular pieces that have since been shipped off to happy customers. If you’re really stuck on a particular sold out item, ask politely for a custom order.

If you fear online ordering—though that’s likely untrue if you’re reading our fabulous blog—you can also pick up Danwei’s creations in shops around the globe, from Boston to Marseille to Malmö.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Women's Movements in Twentieth-Century Taiwan

By Doris Chang

University of Illinois Press

Women's Movements in Twentieth-Century Taiwan by Doris Chang offers a compelling history of the recurrent feminist movement in Taiwan’s imperial and post-war eras. Though Chang’s primary concern is establishing a historical survey of Taiwanese feminism, the book contains an even more valuable—if largely incidental—subtext about the vulnerability of feminism against competing political and cultural movements.

We tend to think of sexism as the final barrier following a millennium of social progress; after centuries spent peeling away layers of barbarism and prejudice, it is a final lingering injustice. We also imagine that, following these other achievements, the realization of women’s rights should be natural and frictionless. Chang shows us that this is exactly wrong.

In fact, feminism thought ebbed and flowed in colonial Taiwan under the Japanese, then under the Chinese, and then again under the autonomous Taiwanese government, always emerging briefly before being shuttered away by competing political and cultural identities. In a time when women were married off as chattel or sold into brothels, advocates for women’s rights were again and again cast as selfish agitators sapping vitality from the political cause du jour.

This is not to say that the violent swaying of Taiwanese politics was in any way frivolous. Taiwan confronted the Sino-Japanese War, World War II, the Chinese civil war, and then decades of martial law under the Kuomintang. Each period sagged under the weight of ethnic and class inequalities, all of which retarded economic growth and democracy. Throughout this turmoil, feminist groups were repeatedly encouraged to ally with cultural movements, political parties, and class-based entities, and then were admonished to abandon their objectives to the greater goals of their partners.

This will sound familiar to progressives who feel themselves pushed to put women’s issues on a back burner. The implication was—and remains—that in times of distress, women should shelve their feminist ideals and divert their attentions to some larger cause. Of course, it is impossible to ask a woman to prioritize her gender identity over her national identity or her class sympathies. Yet Chang shows us that this very tension drowned the advancement of women’s rights at every moment of political reckoning.

The implications of these observations are unclear. Maybe the recent successes of Taiwan’s feminists could only have been realized in the absence of war, imperialism, and censorship. Perhaps it was the eventual triumph of democracy that paved the way for women’s freedom to marry, divorce, work, and study as they choose. But it begs the question: If the feminists of the 1920s had been able to find their voice, would it all have taken so long?

Review by Rebecca Zerzan

The Real Cost of Prisons Comix

Edited by Lois Ahrens

PM Press

As activists know all too well, crafting a political message and effectively mobilizing an audience is an elusive task. In The Real Cost Of Prisons, Lois Ahrens and her contributors beautifully stage a difficult dialogue—about mass incarceration, mandatory sentencing, and the “war on drugs”—with comics. Comics are an accessible, popular form of education, and most importantly, addictive, and hence become a subversive way to raise awareness. The Real Cost of Prisons Project has distributed 115,000 comics to the incarcerated, affected families, and social justice organizations free of charge. Comics are just one part of the organization’s mission to end mass incarceration; since Lois Ahrens founded organization in 2000 a coalition of artists, activists, and researchers has produced and distributed educational materials about the costs—material and affective—of the prison industrial complex and it’s devastating impact on family preservation, women’s reproductive rights, rural economies, and much more.

“What does it cost to lock up 2.3 million people each day in the world’s biggest prison system?” ask Ruth Wilson Gilmore and Craig Gilmore in the introduction to The Real Cost Of Prisons. In addition to the staggering economic costs (the U.S. spends $60 billion per year on prisons) that could otherwise be directed at health care, public education, and other social services, the human costs are immeasurable. In the comic “Prisoners of a Hard Life: Women and Their Children,” illustrated by Susan Willmarth, we learn about the cost of incarceration for women and their children:

*One out of every 109 women in American is incarcerated, on parole, or on probation.

*Half of all women in prison are incarcerated more than 100 miles from their families.

*Seven million children have a parent in prison, on probation, or on parole.

*Seventy-nine percent of all women in New York State’s prisons are Black or Hispanic.

The Real Cost Of Prisons documents the vital efforts of the movement to end mass incarceration, and is an exceptional resource for all activists seeking creative ways to build and sustain a political movement.

Review by Jeanne Vaccaro

Crazy Enough - Portland Center Stage: Portland, Oregon (6/12/09)

Written and performed by Storm Large

Directed by Chris Coleman

Her mother tried to poison her with turquoise "chicken noodle" soup, she tried to become a "dick whisperer" at age 12, and she was addicted to heroin by age 21. Is Storm Large "Crazy Enough?"

Decide for yourself before this show ends August 16, or spend the rest of the summer regretting that you missed her. Large, who starred on CBS's Rockstar: Supernova in 2006 and whose band Storm and the Balls had a Top 10 hit with "Ladylike" that same year, lets everything hang out in this one-woman show—including her boobs, which she refers to as a "$4,000 growth spurt."

She is agonizingly honest about life with a mentally ill mother and a geographically and emotionally distant father; about trying to find love through nasty sex with much older men; about what it felt like to get addicted to heroin and go through withdrawal on her bathroom floor—think feeling like your skin is being scraped by a cheese grater as you watch her perform. All the while growing up, she's also terrified of becoming "crazy" like her mom.

But in the end, her message is one of enormous strength—one that I believe is reaffirming for girls and women of all ages. She's six feet tall, sexually omnivorous (Large's preference to the noun "bisexual"), and yes, (Susan) Storm Large is her real name! If you don't like it, too fucking bad for you.

Despite having a voice like gorgeous dynamite, Large was told by mostly male record talent scouts that she was "too aggressive," "too old" at age 27, but did she mind giving them a blow job while she was there?

This incredible performance will make you fucking pissed off, might very well make you cry, and will definitely make you roar with laughter—who else can pull off singing a song about an eight-mile-wide vagina? If you don't live close to Portland, Oregon, you should definitely check out the play's soundtrack. Just don't start humming it at work.

Review by M.L. Madison

Photo by Owen Carey via Flickr

Imperia Necklace

Have you ever heard a peacock scream? While I was visiting Kolkata's Marble Palace during last summer's monsoon, I happened across the mansion's hodgepodge collection of animals, which I am hesitant to call a "zoo" despite that being what it is. My friends and I were buying time since our trek across town to the museum was through knee-deep water, and we wanted the level to fall a bit before heading back on to the street. After being licked by a barking deer, I was feeling giddy when I saw the male peacock dancing around its cage; that is, until he let out a mating cry.

I'm telling you it was the most godawful noise I have ever heard. It was loud, piercing, and made me wince in pain whist throwing my hands to the sides of my head to protect my precious eardrums from harm. It's amazing, really, that such a majestic and beautiful creature can emit such an abrasive and foul sound. (Bad pun intended!) Oh, if something could capture the beauty without that horrific wail...

Stacy Christopher's Imperia Necklace embodies all that is elegant about the regal bird without the traits that are not. The teardrop cabochon pendant hangs from an 18" gold-colored brass chain, which lands the painted bird in the middle of one's chest. Its vintage style makes the piece versatile for wear; it can be a nice accent piece for a more formal occasion, but works well with everyday outfits too.

Named after a coastal city in Italy that was settled in the thirteenth century, the Imperia Necklace gives the impression of strolling through the seaside town, which is on but slightly removed from the country's tourist circuit. Imperia (the city) is known for its food--though what Italian city isn't? Visitors can indulge in pastas with homegrown olives and, therefore, fresh olive oil before taking a stroll on the beach. If you come across any peacocks while you're walking, go the other way. The painted one around your neck should suit you just fine.

Review by Mandy Van Deven

Sylvia Bennett – Songs from the Heart

Out of Sight Music, Inc.

I’ve listened to Songs From The Heart a number of times now since first receiving it in the mail. Each time I listen, I find myself immediately pulled into the lyrics and Bennett’s smooth and jazzy interpretations of songs like “Someone to Watch Over me” and “As Time Goes By.”When I was a lot younger, I used to think of vocalists like Bennett as creating music for “older” people, but as the years go by, I find myself more and more drawn to jazz in its myriad forms—is there a connection here?

Years ago, my voice teacher assigned the song “My Funny Valentine” to me and I remember her telling me that I hadn’t lived enough to really sing the song with the emotional conviction that was needed. “You’ll understand when you’re a bit older and you’ve really been in love,” she reassured me. I remember feeling annoyed at the time that she had assigned a song that was outside my emotional range. When I heard Bennett’s interpretation of “My Funny Valentine” on this album I finally got it. “That’s what she was talking about all those years ago,” I thought to myself.

Every time I hear Bennett sing the lyrics to “Someone to Watch Over Me,” I can’t help wondering if that song would have been written today. The idea of needing someone to watch over me sounds both comforting and somewhat creepy to me, but Bennett manages to make each of these classics her own, which is no small feat. My favorite song on Songs From The Heart is “As Time Goes By.” As I listen to Bennett, I can almost imagine myself in Casablanca with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman listening to Sam the piano guy tickling the ivories.

Review by Gita Tewari

Personal Politics: An Interview with Rebecca Walker

By Ellen Papazian

The Feminism 101 dictum “the personal is political” has been writ large across third wave feminist founder Rebecca Walker’s work since she published her first book, the 1995 anthology To Be Real: Telling the Truth and Changing the Face of Feminism—her generation’s response to second wave feminism.

Since then, she has written memoirs and edited anthologies that explore her own biracial identity (Black, White, and Jewish: Autobiography of a Shifting Self), raising a son (What Makes a Man: 22 Writers Imagine the Future), and first-time motherhood (Baby Love: Choosing Motherhood After a Lifetime of Ambivalence).

Her latest book—the anthology One Big Happy Family: 18 Writers Talk About Polyamory, Open Adoption, Mixed Marriage, Househusbandry,Single Motherhood, and Other Realities of Truly Modern Love—is a re-envisioning of the American nuclear family, partly inspired by Walker’s memories of her own “fragmented” family (her parents are feminist icon Alice Walker and civil rights lawyer Mel Leventhal). The collection features essays by Dan Savage, Dawn Friedman, Min Jin Lee, and asha bandele, among others.

Walker’s recent work has ignited some debate, including discussions about whether there’s a difference between loving an adopted child and a biological one (Walker says there is) and whether a mother-daughter estrangement as dramatic as the one that played out between Walker and her mother signals a greater generational “rift” between the second and third wave feminist movements.

Feminist Review recently interviewed Walker about her new book on families off the “hetero-normative grid," the power of disclosure in her work, and why she never anticipates controversy.

You’ve written two memoirs and edited three anthologies, including your latest, One Big Happy Family. How are these processes different for you?

A collection is more like a prism than a magnifying glass. Anthologies are more democratic—everyone has their say. The form is radical in that it implicitly acknowledges many voices; the truth of multiplicity is built into its DNA.

In terms of process, I work with other writers the way I try to work with myself—to get to the heart of the story and support its birth. I try not to get too focused on craft. If I meet someone who can’t write a paragraph, but has a true, moving story, I’m there. I encourage that inside voice and coax it out. I do that for myself, and yes, I would say it is a joy, an honor even, to do that for others.

Who is the audience for One Big Happy Family?

One Big Happy Family is for you, your neighbors, the Supreme Court, and your uncle Robert. It’s for anyone doing family differently than the way it’s done on TV or at their grandmother’s house. It’s for people who are making up their version of family as they go along, following love and their own longing for connection. One Big Happy Family is for those who refuse to let love be defined by anything other than the truth of its existence. It’s a kind of Dr. Spock for the millions of people living life off the nuclear, hetero-normative grid.

You open the anthology with a piece by Jenny Block about her polyamorous marriage. Why that particular piece as the opener?

Polyamory has a PR problem—people think those who love more than one person at a time are part of a seamy scene, nymphomaniacs, or delusional, at best. Jenny Block, who wrote the essay, is so not any of those things. It’s one of my favorite pieces in the book because she is so honest and accessible, brave and tender. The essay does a great job smashing the stereotype, and I like that. Putting it front and center pushed the envelope.

You wrote in Newsweek about how President Obama has changed our concept of manhood. Do you feel he and Michelle Obama will shift national discourse on family values?

Modeling partnership between mutually adoring and respectful equals certainly feels like a step in the right direction. I’m encouraged by their apparent openness to families of all kinds, and by their insistence on putting the health and well-being of their children first. It seems so simple, and yet, so many do not do the work.

You’ve written memoirs that have raised the curtain on your childhood and, with Baby Love, your estrangement from your mother. Many writers choose to keep their private lives to themselves, while others make the so-called private, public. Why have you chosen disclosure for your work, and how do you feel it has served you as a writer and activist?

As a child of feminism, I think the real question would be why wouldn’t I choose disclosure? Feminism 101 teaches that the personal is always political—this does not stop being true because the personal may negatively impact the matriarchy.

My work has given voice and agency to many. Like the feminist writers whose work I’ve devoured for decades, I prefer to live my own life, and tell my own story, than have it presumed, projected, or in any other way defined by those who would benefit from my silence. I think my readers resonate with that and are encouraged and emboldened to do the same in their own lives. In this area, you could say I’m classically second wave.

You’re a feminist leader who produces work that sends ripples through some feminist communities. To Be Real shifted the focus of second wave feminists to include young women’s realities. Your statements about the difference between loving a biological child and an adopted child caused a bit of controversy, as did your writing about your estrangement from your mother. In a sense, your personal choices, beliefs, and experiences have become political for many. What do you think of your ability to provoke such a response—and is this a burden, a blessing, or neither?

It’s fascinating, surprising, frustrating, and revelatory. What’s odd is that I never anticipate controversy. I suppose that is to say that my point of view is not calculated in any way. I am nothing if not brutally honest, emotionally raw, and deeply hopeful. I tend to anticipate the best in people, to expect them to—no matter how challenging to their ego or ideas about who they are—rise to the occasion of simple listening and acknowledgment of different viewpoints. This expectation is a blessing, certainly. It sets a bar to which I, myself, aspire.

A burden? Not for me.

Where Underpants Come From: From Checkout to Cotton Field: Travels Through the New China and Into the New Global Economy

By Joe Bennett

Overlook Press

It’s absolutely astonishing to realize how much junk people in North America consume only to throw away. Most of it is from China. When I started to read Where Underpants Come From, I picked up various objects in my office—from the mechanical pencil I write with to my iPod—and I discovered that yes, everything had been made in China. Author Joe Bennett, who is based in New Zealand, does a fantastic job of describing his experience of traveling to that far off land to discover the process of how his cheap underpants were manufactured. The idea is absurd, but he runs with it anyway.

China is the cheapest bidder on manufacturing most of the convenient items we consume at an exhausting rate. It comes as no surprise that the giant nation is, as a result, driving its peasant labor force for meager wages and polluting the air, land, and water at an even faster rate. Statistics aren’t necessary; just take a look at the dirty grey-brown clouds of smog that hover over Chinese cities. 

Bennett does more than observe the grainy air; he physically visits various places in China to see for himself what the industrial giant has created in order to keep the Western materialist appetite satisfied. It isn’t pretty, but his encounters are often humorous. As other journalists (such as Anderson Cooper, in the Planet in Peril series) have pointed out, China’s bid to create the cheapest industrial production of everything from underpants to machinery is creating environmental destruction on an astronomical level. 

Chinese citizens are also just as disposable. When I was a little girl (in Canada) during Mao’s time, I became interested in not only American Vietnam War veterans, but in the Vietnamese and Chinese soldiers who—as the National Geographic displayed them—were left rotting in dilapidated vet hospitals. Bennett’s descriptions of countless health and safety hazards and substandard machinery show that while Mao may have died in 1976, the view that Chinese workers are easily replaceable has not. 

Bennett’s account gets past the stats and much-repeated talk of China as an economic giant. He offers readers glimpses into people’s lives. He goes where the Chinese won’t—places like Urumqi south, where Muslim populations exist—and tries to communicate with the locals. His angle lends compassion and a sincere urge to understand all sides. He admits to his own prejudices against China and its peoples before he actually arrives and notes that people are people everywhere.

As I sit here and type my review on my ‘Made In China’ laptop, the darkness is lit by my ‘Made In China’ lamp, and I drink Chrysanthemum tea (grown and harvested in China) from my ‘Made in China’ glass, I hope that people will take the time to read Bennett’s work. Despite the pollution and slack labor laws and high rate of labor deaths, Bennett finds the people he encounters to be generally happy. Yes, they are driven, but they take time to live for the sake of living and family takes care of family. We Westerners monetarily benefit from the fruits of their hard work, but materialism has only left us miserably wealthy, fat, and insecure. 

Review by Nicolette Westfall

Spell Albuquerque: Memoir of a “Difficult” Student

By Tennessee Reed

AK Press

I found Tennessee Reed’s memoir of her educational and professional life to be inspiring and informative. In her memoir, Reed shows the difficulties that learning and physically disabled students encounter in the public and private educational system, and provides suggestions about what can be done to combat racism, institutional authority, and insensitivity.

Between the age of eighteen months and two years of age, Reed, the daughter of writer/choreographer Carla Blank and novelist Ishmael Reed, was diagnosed with a speech and language-based communication disorder, aphasia. Similar to a condition that stroke and head trauma victims experience, this condition prevented Reed from developing normal speech patterns. In addition to aphasia, Reed had difficulty with reading comprehension, three dimensional perception, and tasks that require small muscle control and hand eye coordination; she was also diagnosed with a math disability and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) in 1998.

Despite having several learning and physical disabilities, Reed was able to navigate through the school system from pre-school through graduate school. In Spell Albuquerque: Memoir of a “Difficult” Student, she writes about her experiences as a student, a published writer, and a candidate for the Oakland, California School Board.

Reed encountered difficulty throughout her educational experience, due to insensitive administrators and inexperienced instructors. She gives several examples of being humiliated and ridiculed by school principals, classroom teachers, and other students when she did not perform according to their expectations. As a child, Reed was powerless against the inconsistent behavior and teaching methods of her instructors. But as a teenager and as an adult, she began to question and challenge her teachers and professors. When she encountered racism in addition to discrimination based on her disabilities, she fought back against assumptions that others made about her.

Despite her difficulties with the traditional educational system, Reed became a success. A talented writer, she earned a Master of Fine Arts degree from Mills College; worked as a tutor in the AmeriCorps program between undergraduate and graduate school; and has published five books.

In 2008, she decided to run for a campaign for a seat on the Oakland School Board. The focus of Reed’s campaign was to inform voters of the issues that affected minority, poor, and learning- disabled students. Specifically, she focused on standardized tests, textbooks and curriculum, overcrowded classrooms, school closures, the need for physical education and the arts, creativity, charter schools, and teacher credentials. Although Reed did not win the seat, she received ten percent of the vote and was able to put issues affecting minority, poor, and disabled students on the table.

Reed demonstrates in her memoir that at times minority, poor, disabled, and gay/lesbian/bisexual/transsexual students may have to work harder to succeed in society and she provides a great example of what can be accomplished when we focus on students’ strengths.

Review by Rekesha Spellman

On Joanna Russ

Edited by Farrah Mendlesohn

Wesleyan University Press

Last summer, in an effort to learn more about female writers of speculative fiction (SF), I read Charlotte Spivack’s Merlin’s Daughters. While the majority of the book was a rather boring summary of what the aforementioned "daughters" had written, the introduction posited that all speculative fiction has subversive possibilities. After all, the author is imagining a new world and probably one structured by a new social order, right? Not necessarily.

In Farrah Mendlesohn’s On Joanna Russ, the reader finds that in mid-century American SF, only some ideas are subject to question, and that pioneers like Russ were marginalized, or ignored. In the first part of the book, “Criticism and Community,” contributors discuss the relationship between Russ and the SF community, including readers, prominent editors and other writers, as well as her place as an academic. For example, as Russ moves toward a more feminist perspective, she writes to a popular publication about the lack of female characters in most SF novels.

The responses were many and varied, but a prominent colleague took it on himself to 'set her straight'. It was not sexism that kept female characters out of SF, he said; it was the “cerebral plots” that did not necessitate a “love interest.” On Joanna Russ paints the picture of a female writer forced by workplace bottom-pinching and literary marginalization to explain feminism over and over again to both men and women. Responding to Kate Wilhelm, who said she champions equal rights but is not a feminist, Russ noted, “It’s funny, really; having disclaimed feminism, you go on to define it.”

The second part of the book focuses on Russ’ fiction. Contributors here discuss how Russ’ work shows a synthesis of second and third wave feminisms, the necessity of violence for Russ’ protagonists, and the recurrent themes of lesbianism and homosocial bonds. This discussion is interwoven with the relationship of her writing to the work of Hélène Cixous, Mina Loy, Mikhail Bakhtin, and others. In her fiction, Russ defines, expands, and subverts the “feminine utopia” and visions of women as “good”, i.e., not violent or sexual.

I came away from On Joanna Russ with a huge to read list, including titles by Russ and important works by feminist writers. This book is a must-read for a student of SF, female writers and academics, or any feminist who has forgotten how close the isolation of the twentieth century is at our heels. I was struck by how far we have come from bottom-pinching in the academy, but also how much still has to be done to create a culture where writing by and about women flourishes. Russ herself says in "How to Suppress Women’s Writing":

When the memory of one’s predecessors is buried, the assumption persists that there were none, and each generation of women believes itself to be faced with the burden of doing everything for the first time… without models, it’s hard to work; without a context, difficult to evaluate; without peers, nearly impossible to speak.

Sadly, according to contributor Graham Sleight, as of 2008, says many of her books are out of print, forcing contemporary readers to track her down in used books stores and libraries. It’s well worth the hunt: her work was crucial to the shape of contemporary SF.

Review by H. V. Cramond

Skunk Girl

By Sheba Karim

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Skunk Girl is Sheba Karim’s first novel. It is told from the point of view of 16-year-old Nina Khan, self-described as “a Pakistani Muslim girl” and from a small white town in upstate New York. Although published in 2009, the story is set in approximately 1993.

In a fast-paced, entertaining read, Nina narrates her life and drama as the only Pakistani and Muslim girl in her high school. She deals with worries about school and boys, as well body hair and strict parents. Karim keeps a light-hearted tone throughout the novel, balancing Nina’s self-deprecation with her humorous critique of others around her.

When a male friend asks Nina what her father would do if he ran outside and started kissing her in front of him, one of her best friends says, “Nina’s dad would kill her if you did that.”

“He wouldn’t kill me,” she responds.

In the narration, Nina explains:

“I must defend my father. He may be conservative, but he’s no murderer like those nutty Islamic fanatics they show on TV movies who marry unsuspecting white women, then kidnap their daughters and take them to some unnamed Middle Eastern country. He wouldn’t kill me, just yell and maybe cry and only ever let me out of the house for school.”

Karim takes on stereotypes in a less heavy-handed manner than, say, Randa Abdel-Fattah of Does My Head Look Big in This? and Ten Things I Hate About Me. She uses humor to poke fun at, and thus challenge, popular portrayals of Muslim men.

At the same time, Karim doesn’t go the other route of painting Nina’s parents as permissive and progressive to challenge the image of Muslim parents as strict and conservative. Nina’s parents are in many ways much more conservative than Amal’s parents in Does My Head Look Big in This?. When Nina goes to the movies with her female friends and their boyfriends, she can’t let her father see that there are boys in the group, lest he “kill” her as discussed above. Neither Nina nor her sister has ever been to a school dance, and her parents get “worked up about the lack of morality in Western culture.” When they see one of Nina’s best friends having dinner with a boy, they grow concerned that Nina will want to have a boyfriend too, and they try to limit the amount of time Nina spends with her best friends, so she doesn’t become influenced to do “things that are wrong for you,” in the words of her mother.

Nina finds it hard to be the only girl in her school with such restrictions. She feels left out when classmate Serena holds a big party and she doesn’t even get an invitation, because, as Serena tells her, “you’re not allowed to go to parties and I don’t want to waste any [invitations].” But even while Nina bemoans her plight as the only high schooler at home on a Friday night, she never takes herself too seriously, which is refreshing.

Spending her Friday nights at home watching crime shows with her parents, Nina decides, “Maybe there are only two types of people who spend their Friday nights in high school at home—Pakistani Muslim girls and future serial killers. Though I suppose Indian and maybe even some Asian parents might be as strict with their kids.” She remembers hearing that there’s an Indian girl in the middle school: “Maybe I should become friends with her. I bet we’d be allowed to spend our Friday nights together, memorizing vocabulary words or something.”

In some ways, Nina’s parents are archetypes of strict, conservative parents. When Nina asks her father what would be so wrong with having friends who are boys, he replies, “If you lose sight of what is wrong and right, and start behaving like Americans, you’ll end up on the streets, on drugs, and a prostitute.” Nina comments on her father’s warning: “It is so preposterous that you can’t even argue with it.”

Despite their strictness, Nina’s parents fail to become stereotypes. Karim’s description of Nina’s father—who tells jokes, even though they’re not always funny, loves and sings along with qawwali music, and tries to have heart-to-hearts with his daughter—make him into a multidimensional, believable character. Nina’s mother, too, breaks out of the stereotype she could otherwise become. When Nina wails to her mother about the plight of being a “hairy Pakistani Muslim girl,” her mother says, “It’s not such a big deal,” and hands her a box of bleach, telling her stories of mixing her own ammonia and hydrogen peroxide concoction when she was in college in Pakistan.

It makes sense that Karim would write Nina’s parents as believable, multidimensional characters since her whole cast of characters is complex and engaging. Some characters, who start out as archetypes, such as Nina’s sister, Sonia, the “nerd girl,” and classmate Serena, popular mean girl, develop through the novel as Nina gets to know them better.

While Nina’s parents are strict about certain rules, they are less conservative about other issues. Nina explains that her mother is the only one who prays regularly, and that the family only ever prays together to keep up appearances whenever her mother’s sister, the very Pakistani, very Muslim Nasreen Khan, comes to visit.

Karim depicts Muslims more conservative than Nina’s parents. Nina tells the story of the Qur’an teacher she had when she was young, Brother Hassan. When he sees her mother’s favorite painting hanging on the wall, of two Mexican women holding bright flowers, he instructs Nina to tell her mother to take it down: “It is haram to depict human figures,” he tells her. Instead, it is her teacher who Nina never sees again. She learns to read Qur’an instead from her mother, “under the watchful eyes of the Mexican women.”

With stories like this, Karim establishes a diversity of belief amongst Muslims. Nina’s mother, presented as the most religious member of her family, has a different understanding of Islam than Nina’s Qur’an teacher and is willing to stand up for it. That Nina’s mother does not discard the painting per Brother Hassan’s advice is not presented as a failure on her part to live by the rules of Islam, but as a way Nina’s mother rejects a more conservative interpretation of Islam and affirms her own values.

Nina, who admits to be less religious than her mother, does not live up to the archetype of a conservative Muslim girl either. Enamored by her crush, Asher Richelli, she doesn’t hold the same resistance to him that very consciously religious Amal of Does My Heah Look Big in This? had for her crush. When Nina and her sister Sonia are left alone for a few days, when their parents fly to Pakistan early, Nina takes the opportunity to attend her first high school party, has her first beer, and proceeds to get drunk. Later, she asks her sister what makes a good Muslim.

Sonia replies:

“Whose definition are you applying to that? In every religion people pick and choose what they want to follow. Look at Ma and Dad’s own friends—a few of the aunties cover their hair, and a few of the aunties drink, some fast during during Ramadan, some don’t. You can’t spend your life worrying about what other people will think. If you live decently and help others, is Allah going to condemn you simply because you had a beer? I don’t think so, but others might. In the end, you have to do what you believe is right.”

Sonia’s advice of self-determination seems to the message of the book. She tells her sister, “When it comes to religion and orthodoxy and culture and self-actualization, there is no magic box [with] easy answers.” And indeed, Nina’s dilemma of what to do about her crush, Asher, is not presented as a test from God of resisting temptation, but as a religious, cultural, and family issue with which she must struggle—and not necessarily find any easy option. While Nina’s parents are quick to deplore what they see as immorality around them (and Nina’s potential fall to a drug-addicted prostitute), Nina does not judge. When best friend Bridget announces her decision to have sex with her boyfriend, Nina thinks about how surreal the idea is, and asks Bridget sincerely, “How are you feeling about it?”

But religious and familial drama is not the only issue facing Nina. Small New York town Deer Hook lacks in racial diversity, which worsens Nina’s feeling of isolation. Nina recalls an incident from her childhood. In the car, she asks her sister, “When you take over the world, can you make me white?” Her mother, driving, slams on the brakes and asks, “Why would you want that?” Nina narrates, “Because it sucks being one of the only brown kids in school, I thought. But I didn’t say this because even then I knew my mother wouldn’t understand.”

Nina describes the self-segregation by race during lunch: the few black and Latino students sit on one side of the lawn, while Nina, an Asian freshman, and couple other minorities sit on the “white side.” Even though she sits with the white students and her best friends are white, Nina can’t completely fit in, and sometimes wishes to be white.

Nina feels some affinity to Bridget’s boyfriend, Anthony, who is black and from the island of Grenada—one of the few non-white students at Deer Hook besides Nina. “Do you ever wish you were white?” she asks him, explaining that she would take the chance to live her life again as a “cute blonde” in a heartbeat. He suggests perhaps being white wouldn’t make her happier, considering everything she’d have to sacrifice for it: her family, her food, her pride. There are no incidents of overt racism that Nina and Anthony face, but Karim shows the difficulty of being one of the few non-white students in the school, especially when all their friends are white.

Nina challenges her parents’ racism when they find out Bridget is not just dating—horror!—but dating “a black boy,” as well as the preference for light skin within their Pakistani circles. These are probably the most overt discussions of racism in the book.

One of Nina’s biggest concerns is not just being a “Pakistani Muslim girl,” but being a “hairy Pakistani Muslim girl.” She explains that one day, “I fell asleep a human, and woke up a gorilla.” It is worse when she realizes that she has a stripe of dark hair down her neck to the center of her back. Describing her dilemma as being a “skunk girl,” from which the novel derives its title, Nina feels like a freak.

She stands out in other ways. In hot weather, Nina sweats in jeans while others wear shorts. She wears jeans because that’s what Pakistani Muslim girls do, she says. But I wonder why she can’t wear a long skirt or looser, lighter pants at least.

Skunk Girl paints a picture of a believable Muslim teenager–not necessarily one the Counsel on American-Islamic Relations would send out to represent Muslim youth, but a girl with struggles and desires beyond fulfilling her mother’s image of the perfect Pakistani Muslim girl. It was refreshing that neither the title nor cover art revolved around Nina’s Muslim-ness. Books with a Muslim protagonist have been known to feature hijab-less characters in hijab to emphasize their faith. Not so for Skunk Girl. The book jacket shows a white stripe of fur against black, reflecting the book’s title.

Karim’s first novel is a fast and enjoyable read. I read it in one sitting. At 231 pages, in a comfortable font size and spacing, the book goes quickly. Karim maintains the pace with short chapters, an engaging plot, and an entertaining and likable narrator.

Nina’s story is compelling, touching on issues many young people face, whether or not they are Pakistani Muslim girls. But even when she takes on serious issues, Karim keeps the novel optimistic and funny. The message, in the end, is one of self-acceptance. Skunk Girl does not strive to be great literature. It makes a breezy, but thoughtful, summer read. I look forward to seeing what else Karim will bring to young adult fiction.

Review by Melinda

Cross-posted from Muslimah Media Watch

Where Did I Leave My Glasses?: The What, When, and Why of Normal Memory Loss

By Martha Weinman Lear

Wellness Central

I knew Where Did I Leave My Glasses? was for me the moment I read its title; by the time I finished the first chapter I was sure that it would be my ‘Bible’ for rest of my life. This informative book on memory loss by Martha Weinman Lear assures us that “memory loss” is perfectly normal as we age. Well, aging may not be a very comforting thought (at least for me), but once we accept this fact “gracefully,” we will accept “memory loss” as its accomplice.

Ms. Lear makes the book very readable and entertaining with amusing life experiences and good humor. She explains the “technicalities” of the human brain in simple words and with simple examples. Who wouldn’t understand if the complex works of neurons, neurotransmitters inside the brain is compared to the big O—Orgasm!

This well researched book includes excerpts of the interviews and expert opinions of neurologists, biologists; cardiologists, psychologists, anthropologists, and many other “ologists” (and some amazing combos like neuropsychologists).

The best part of the book is the tips Ms. Lear gives for memory retention like repetition and word association. Did you know, for example, that aerobics boosts your memory? Ms. Lear distinguishes between “normal” and “not so normal” memory loss, which gives us the clue when to start worrying about memory loss.

This book is a must read for the types like me who have “what’s his/her name,” “tip of the tongue,” and “what I had for weekend’s lunch” issues. Though I know that I am getting older, that at least is much more comforting than to know that I have amnesia.

Review by Sunitha Jayan