The (Not So?) Secret History of Wonder Woman

I am into comics. I am fascinated by history. Feminism is my jam. And Jill Lepore is the Michelle Obama of historical narrative nonfiction: the motherfucking best. So when I saw that Jill Lepore was writing a book about the feminist history of the man who wrote Wonder Woman, this was pretty much my reaction: […]

Feminism Confidential: My Tubes Are Just Fine, Thankyouverymuch

There’s this episode of Don’t Trust the B–in Apt. 23 (which you should all watch, by the way, it’s stupidly hilarious) where James is messing with June because she suddenly thinks he’s sexy. In one scene, June wakes up in the morning to James standing in her bedroom, offering her a smoothie, then ripping off his shirt […]

Summer; Or; I’m Too Bored To Be Shocked

Finished up Summer, by Edith Wharton in short order. As a rule, I love Edith Wharton. I love the way her writing, like her characters, is suffused with tension, unarticulated, below the surface. Much is left to the imagination, the wink-and-nod understanding of the reader. I suspect that in the time she was writing, this […]

Surfacing; Or, Everyone Is Fucked Up

The honor of first book completed in 2015 goes to Surfacing, by Margaret Atwood. Reading Surfacing was like reading a shorter, more coherent version of Faulkner’s The Sound and The Fury. The Narrator (we never learn her name) narrates in something akin to stream-of-consciousness, though for the most part her line of thought is more intelligible […]

Not With a Bang, But With, Well, a Bang*

Having read some excellent books by a variety of women lately, I wondered where to start the content of this blog. I figured it should be with something interesting, intellectual, meaty. And then I figured – nah. I mean, there’s meaty and then there’s meaty, amirite? Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander is the sort of novel I’d classify a […]