Till the Sun Burns Out
Currently reading:
The Best of Everything by Rona Jaffe
Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury
Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver by Mary Oliver [ongoing]
Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962–1972 by Alejandra Pizarnik [ongoing]
The Best of Everything is for a reading group I’m part of, so, alas, does not count toward the Library. But I’m enjoying it so far!
Books finished this week: 2
★★★★★
Where this book came from: Barnes & Noble (no link for them; you know who they are)
Why this book: I haven’t read it since ninth grade, but I am a periodic viewer of the 1980s movie and a devout fan of the Broadway musical, so it felt like time.
Thoughts: What else is there to say except, “Stay gold.”
★★★☆☆
Where this book came from: Ordered from my favorite Hudson Valley bookshop, Split Rock Books
Why this book: Once upon a time, I won a copy of Duane Swiercynzski’s book Canary in, I believe, a social media giveaway. I must have tweeted about it, because I remember Duane—I can call him Duane, because sometimes he still likes my Instagram posts, which means we’re basically real friends—talking to me a bit over there, before it was as much of a hellsite, and he also sent me a Goodreads message to thank me for my glowing review of Canary. Those were truly the most thrilling moments of my life up to that point. I haven’t read that book in many years, but I remember loving it, and I was very excited to give more of Duane’s work a go!
Thoughts: Unfortunately, this did not live up to the hype I built in my head. Between the author and the premise—a satirical look at true crime media and our collective obsession with it—this sounded like an easy four stars, minimum. I was enjoying the first twenty or thirty pages, but then the tone really started to get to me. It felt like someone trying too hard to be quirky and interesting, in a 2011 kind of way. There are also five POVs to keep track of, which wasn’t an issue at first, but then the book began cycling rapidly between them in the back half, which really just killed any momentum or suspense the story had built. I still need to read Duane’s Revolver, am thinking about rereading Canary very soon, and will read whatever he puts out next. But this one just wasn’t for me. (Duane, if you see this . . . I’m so sorry.)
Library updates:
Since I’m being good and following the Moratorium Library’s rules, I didn’t count another book that I finished this week: Catherynne M. Valente’s The Refrigerator Monologues. But I cannot let the week pass without talking about this book.
The Refrigerator Monologues was a reread, and so is disqualified from the final Library count for this year. And it was an impulse reread, at that. Since getting into grad school, I’ve been thinking a lot about and working on a novel about a sidekick turned vigilante turned hero-ish, so I’ve been thinking a lot about superheroes, comic books, right and wrong, and the role of women in a capes-and-tights world. I have a long reading list of inspiration and comp titles I still need to get to, but I was tidying my bookshelves a few days ago and the Refrigerator called.
It is an angry and moving and heartbreaking and confusing and darkly funny book, in which six women who have been sidelined by their super significant others come together in the afterlife to tell their stories. Those stories will be familiar to anyone with even a passing interest in comic or superhero media: the girlfriend killed by her well-meaning boyfriend’s attempt to save her life, the all-powerful woman/cosmic being who has almost been retconned out of existence. And at the end, we get the Woman in the Refrigerator, a spin on the very real comic book story (Green Lantern, if I remember correctly) that launched the trope.
On TVTropes.org, a search for “Women in Refrigerators” gives you a few pages to choose from, but the most applicable one here is “Stuffed into the Fridge,” which the site defines as, “ When a loved one is hurt, killed, maimed, assaulted, or otherwise traumatized in order to motivate another character or move their plot forward.” Though they acknowledge that the trope began with the death of a woman to further a man’s story, they go on to insist that the hurt/killed/maimed/assaulted/traumatized person can be of any gender and have any relationship to the main characters. And . . . sure. But how often does a cis, white, straight man get beaten to the brink of death in order to send his girlfriend on a quest for revenge? It’s the marginalized who get shunted aside to make way for the mainstream, the already-powerless who suffer the indignity of death so that the superpowered can live on. “I belong in the refrigerator,” says the woman at the center of the final story in the book. “Because the truth is, I’m just food for a superhero. He’ll eat up my death and get the energy he needs to become a legend.”
Reading this book again made me angry too. It’s a book about power—physical power, but also the power to claim your narrative and share it how you see fit, to live your life as you want to, to be allowed to express emotions and live free of judgment. It’s also a book about love, which made me happy. Not the love between superhero and paramour; the love between friends, the people who will listen to you monologue and support you with every line.
This book also reminded me why I’m writing my own book. I’m not really trying to change the world, but changing a few minds would be nice. I mostly just want to write something entertaining, a thriller-slash-superhero-slash-coming-of-age story. I want my book to be a lot of things, and I want some of it—my hero’s voice, her motivations, her view of the world—to be inspired by The Refrigerator Monologues.
So, that’s why I reread it. Also, it’s just a goddamn great book. To prove it to you, here’s one of my favorite passages; see if you can guess which doomed heroine inspired it:
“It’s a funny thing. You go your whole life thinking you’re the protagonist, but really, you’re just backstory. The boys shrug and go on, they fight and blow things up and half of them do much worse than a star and still get the key to the city, and eventually you’re just a story your high school boyfriend tells the kid he had with his new wife.” (The Refrigerator Monologues, page 45)
Closing thoughts:
Sometimes, your blog needs to be more of a literary essay. Let it happen.
Total books read from the Moratorium Library: 90
(Total books added to the Library: 179)
Part of me feels like this book shouldn’t count, because it’s a weapon and not a book. But I can’t wait to start reading it and to eventually complain about it here.
Also, I read an article for school about feeling nostalgic about chain bookstores and immediately had to go to a Barnes & Noble.
And maybe also I had ulterior motives for wanting to go book shopping . . .
KANTHONY 4EVER
