Rating: ★★★☆☆
Synopsis (from NetGalley): In this debut collection of essays, lists, musings, and quips, New York-based comedian Zach Zimmerman delicately walks the fine line between tear-jerking and knee-slapping, and does so with aplomb. In this laugh-and-cry-out-loud, memoir-esque exploration of selfhood, Zimmerman dives into the pros and cons of retiring a Bible-Belt-dwelling, meat-eating, God-fearing identity in exchange for a new, metropolitan lease on life—one of vegetarianism, atheism, queerness, and humor. Whether learning to absolve instilled religious guilt or reminiscing over Tinder dates gone horribly wrong, this book is a candid and hysterical look at one person's journey toward making peace with the past and seeking hope in the future. Non-Spoiler Review: When my sister introduced me to stand-up comedy in 2019, my life changed. (I became insufferable.) I began quoting Ronny Chieng. John Mulaney's relationship woes kept me up at night. Comedy Cellar videos began popping up on my TikTok. Stand-up comedy is so different from scripted comedy; though both are rehearsed, only stand-up comedy relies on the sole figure on stage, armed with nothing but a mic, a stool, and a trembling glass of water, to leash the crowd and be funny while doing it. It is that kind of practiced ease with which Zach Zimmerman approaches his debut essay collection Is It Hot in Here? Zimmerman tackles topics ranging from capitalism to his religious upbringing. Favorites of mine include "#2," "The Seven Days of Creation under Capitalism," and "Testimony." These essays are both reflective and determined, subdued and dry. However, the collection is not perfectly cohesive, and I found some of the essays anticlimactic, especially given how short they are. Given that some of the essays are reprints, however, it's unrealistic to expect perfect cohesion. While I don't think my humor aligns perfectly with Zimmerman's, I admire his enthusiasm; Is It Hot in Here paints a sweet portrait of not only a young comedian but also a young man—and all of the complications that come with that. Thank you to NetGalley and Chronicle Books for providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Is It Hot in Here is out April 15, 2023.
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Rating: 95% | A | ★★★★★
Warnings: + Violence Synopsis (from Goodreads): On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is a letter from a son to a mother who cannot read. Written when the speaker, Little Dog, is in his late twenties, the letter unearths a family's history that began before he was born — a history whose epicenter is rooted in Vietnam — and serves as a doorway into parts of his life his mother has never known, all of it leading to an unforgettable revelation. At once a witness to the fraught yet undeniable love between a single mother and her son, it is also a brutally honest exploration of race, class, and masculinity. Asking questions central to our American moment, immersed as we are in addiction, violence, and trauma, but undergirded by compassion and tenderness, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is as much about the power of telling one's own story as it is about the obliterating silence of not being heard. Spoiler-Free Review: (Special thanks to my friend Crystal for pestering me nonstop to read On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, especially because not even a hellish comp lit class could fail to dampen her enthusiasm for this book.) Now--On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous. I read this book in my apartment complex after everyone had deserted for Thanksgiving break, in quarantine, trying not to blow all of my money on Grubhub or drown in my own thoughts. I can say very little about On Earth that hasn't already been said by legions of Vuong fans. I can mostly only commiserate—to agree with everyone about the book's lyricism, its unyielding emotion, its constant intimate communion with Little Dog's thoughts. All I will say is that I found the prose a little heavy while I was reading. "But that's what's amazing about it," Crystal told me over our weekly bagel lunch. "I feel like I need to read it again just to pick up on all the things I missed." Vuong may be overly lyrical, but this critique is not necessarily one of the book but of me, the reader. On Earth is a must-read that deserves all of its awards and praise. And I feel very, very privileged to be able to coexist with Vuong and to look forward to his future work. (Click "Read More" for more information.)
Rating: ★★★★☆
Synopsis (from NetGalley): Filled with empathy and wisdom, instruction and inspiration, this book encourages us to reevaluate the codes and conventions that have shaped our assumptions about how fiction should be written, and also challenges us to apply its lessons to both what we read and how we read. Featuring: • Taymour Soomro on resisting rigid stories about who you are • Madeleine Thien on how writing builds the room in which it can exist • Amitava Kumar on why authenticity isn’t a license we carry in our wallets • Tahmima Anam on giving herself permission to be funny • Ingrid Rojas Contreras on the bodily challenge of writing about trauma • Zeyn Joukhadar on queering English and the power of refusing to translate ourselves • Myriam Gurba on the empowering circle of Latina writers she works within • Kiese Laymon on hearing that no one wants to read the story that you want to write • Mohammed Hanif on the censorship he experienced at the hands of political authorities • Deepa Anappara on writing even through conditions that impede the creation of art • Plus essays from Tiphanie Yanique, Xiaolu Guo, Jamil Jan Kochai, Vida Cruz-Borja, Femi Kayode, Nadifa Mohamed in conversation with Leila Aboulela, and Sharlene Teo The start of a more inclusive conversation about storytelling, Letters to a Writer of Color will be a touchstone for aspiring and working writers and for curious readers everywhere. Non-Spoiler Review: One of my perpetual resolutions is to read more essays. I love writing in the essay form, but ironically, I don't read many essays beyond Didion's. Letters to a Writer of Color was the perfect collection with which to start my new year. As a writer of color myself, I felt privileged to be able to receive advice from my industry elders. The collection is rich and thought-provoking, bringing together not just writers of color but writers of color from all backgrounds and experiences. For me, the standout essays are "On Humor" by Tahmima Anam, "On Character," by Tiphanie Yanique, "On Trauma" by Ingrid Rojas Contreras, "On Queerness" by Zayn Joukhadar, "On Telling and Showing" by Jamil Jan Kochai, "On the Inactive Protagonist" by Vida Cruz-Borja, and "On Reception and Resilience by Sharlene Tao"—though it is probably most accurate to say that each essay touched me in its own unique way. Tao's essay in particular allowed me to recognize the flawed perception of "universality" that I had unknowingly perpetuated for years (and often on this very blog). The collection does not shy away from its title—letters addressed specifically to and from writers of color—and this kind of staunch pride allows for a serious, enlightening discussion in each essay. The collection also encouraged me to reflect on my own experiences as a writer of color. Perhaps because I am young, or because I am growing up in a different time, I haven't encountered many of the issues discussed—the dismissal of writers of color's subjects by instructors or classmates, the insistence on universality, and the forced interpretation of international literature according to Western heroic canon. I feel fortunate to have never (or not yet) experienced these conflicts, but most of all, I am grateful to the writers in this collection for paving the way for me to come of age in a new, more accepting writing environment. This collection is a must-read for readers and writers alike. Thank you to Netgalley and Random House Publishing Group - Random House, Random House Trade Paperbacks for providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Letters to a Writer of Color is out March 7, 2023.
Rating: 82% | B- | ★★★★☆
Warnings: + Violence Synopsis (from Goodreads): Oliver Marks has just served ten years in jail - for a murder he may or may not have committed. On the day he's released, he's greeted by the man who put him in prison. Detective Colborne is retiring, but before he does, he wants to know what really happened a decade ago. As one of seven young actors studying Shakespeare at an elite arts college, Oliver and his friends play the same roles onstage and off: hero, villain, tyrant, temptress, ingenue, extra. But when the casting changes, and the secondary characters usurp the stars, the plays spill dangerously over into life, and one of them is found dead. The rest face their greatest acting challenge yet: convincing the police, and themselves, that they are blameless. Spoiler-Free Review: A note to my freshman self: it's a good thing you took that intro-level Shakespeare course. In fact, I have a vivid memory of opening my scratchy red Norton Anthology to the syllabus's last play, King Lear, and being excited when reading Edmund's speech: "[W]e make guilty of our / disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as / if we were villains by necessity; fools by / heavenly compulsion." Still, there were more than a few Shakespearean references that escaped meg when reading M.L. Rio's novel—for the better. Rio's encyclopedic knowledge of Shakespeare is what allows Dellecher and its students to come to life, engrossed in the whirling emotions of their material and their own drama. By far the most impressive quality of If We Were Villains is the setting—Dellecher is a dark fantasy that does not feel overly wrought or fictional. It could easily stand as a conservatory somewhere in the world, attracting young thespians. However, there is a noticeable lacuna between the sense of eeriness that Rio aspires to and the behavior of the main cast. Oliver, Richard, James, Meredith, Alexander, Wren, and Filippa are too muted, too real—not the misfits Oliver believes them to be—to be united with their backdrop. As the story progresses, the plot also takes on this muted quality, as if Rio is uneasy with exploring darker and gorier themes. As a work of what TikTok has dubbed "dark academia," If We Were Villains falls short. The scaffolding is there, but the execution could be even more heavy-handed. I found myself speeding through the book, patiently waiting for the climax, only to be met with a stubbornly consistent chain of events. Still, If We Were Villains is a solid read, perfect for a rainy afternoon or for visiting a drafty castle full of secrets. (Click "Read More" for spoilers.) |