Consumption Diaries No. 26: January

What I read and watched this month

artist: Nigel Van Wieck

“Wild Pear Tree” by Kaveh Akbar

it’s been January for months in both directions frost
over grass like pale fungus like
mothdust the branches of the pear tree are pickling
in ice white as the long white line running from me
to the smooth whales frozen in chunks of ocean
from their vast bobbing to the blackwhite
stars flowering into heaven the hungry cat gnaws
on a sliver of mirror and I have been chewing
out my stitches wondering which
warm names we should try singing
wild thyme cowslip blacksnake all the days
in a year line up at the door and I deflect each saying no
you will not be needed one by one they skulk off
into the cold the cat hates this place more than he loves
me he cannot remember the spring when I fed him
warm duck fat daily nor the kitchen vase filled with musky blue
roses nor the pear tree which was so eager to toss its fruit so sweet
it made us sleepy I stacked the pears on the mantle
until I ran out of the room and began filling them into
the bathtub one evening I slid in as if into a mound
of jewels now ghost finches leave footprints
on our snowy windowsills the cat paces
through the night listening for their chirps our memories
have frosted over ages ago we guzzled
all the rosewater in the vase still we check for it
nightly I have forgotten even
the easy prayer I was supposed to use
in emergencies something something I was not
born here I was not born here I was not

January was a hard month for so many of us, particularly the last interminable, unpredictable one-third in the US. Reading has been a wonderful salve, and I finished six books this month. Reading-wise, I’m off to a decent start.

Perhaps it’s been living and working in D.C. that has exhausted me, but the anxiety around me is at an all-time high. Opening any social media app drowns me in bad news, and I force myself to pay attention to what matters, feel the tension rising as I do so. Sirens, a fixture of any city, become constant reminders of all I have to lose. Text messages become potential daggers carrying more sadness or stress. Reality has felt, forgive me for the lack of creativity, too real.

I’m waiting for something bad to happen, looking over my shoulder as if something bad were not already happening. And then at the very end of the month, there was a catastrophic plane-helicopter crash at the airport I fly in and out of a dozen times a year, often on those exact small planes. The first mid-air collision in nearly two decades. Here’s something bad, the universe shouts at me, and it’s getting closer and closer to quite literally home.

The morning after the crash, after I’d stayed up later than I should have refreshing my news apps and social media for any new morsel of information (as if any of it wouldn’t be more tragic than the last update), interspersed with more bad news of climate change and deportations and attacks on trans rights and the disappointing compliance from so many in power, I lay in bed for a moment with my cat before I got up to get ready for the work day.

I fought the urge to cry, then reminded myself we can and must mourn properly. Her ears perked up, barely perceptible, a moment before I heard it: the coo of a mourning dove, roosting on the ledge outside my window. A daily staple in the warmer months, but the first I’d heard all winter. I googled: do mourning doves migrate in the winter? If not, where have they been, only to return at such a dramatically pointed moment? What is an omen after the fact?

I haven’t been able to look away, obsessively checking for details. Particularly about the victims, the humanity that was lost. The lawyer who was flying home on her birthday. So many young figure skaters. The parents traveling with their cats to visit their daughter at college. Each person with a full life, excited to land, ready to turn off airplane mode and text their loved ones “landed!” All week, visible remnants of rescue efforts: the parks along the river shut down, police cars lining the bridges, alerts to not touch any debris that the current has washed down shore. I can’t help but wonder what they mean by debris.

That a president could stand up in front of the country and forgo any sense of empathy for all that was lost, instead giving a number of wildly inaccurate speculations placing the blame on everyone who’s different than him instead of taking responsibility and reassuring, as a leader should, has been under my skin since. There is so little care for each other in this country, so little room for grief or joy, and what else can there be with a president who only knows how to fight with imaginary adversaries?

I saw a meme from reductress recently about white women who claim joy as an act of resistance but partake in no other forms. Maybe you don’t know what your resistance looks like, and maybe it’s quieter than others’, but we must find it. We do not have the luxury of ignorance, and muting the news cycle when reality feels too real will not save us. We’re in this world; we can’t shut it out to pretend we exist separately.

But it’s not either/or. Find whatever joy you must to keep you going, and hold onto it, but know that this grief is necessary too. It keeps our humanity. We can build our communities, however large or small, and particularly outside of billionaire-owned social media platforms (I see the irony here). Let grief be a collective, and joy too, a careful balance that propels us closer to good, whatever that may look like.

catarinehancock

A post shared by @catarinehancock

I know this has nothing to do with books, and that’s why you’re even here in the first place, but it is impossible to simply read as an escape, and it feels weird to me to just share a list of books as if I read each one in a vacuum. If reading is political, I want to be clear and intentional in the act.

books

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir

Project Hail Mary is a novel about space travel for those who are scared of space travel, or who thought Interstellar was too serious. The premise: The main character, Ryland Grace, wakes up from a coma aboard a spacecraft that is millions of miles away, destined for the outer reaches of the galaxy, and tasked with a mission to quite literally save the Earth. However, he can’t remember who he is, why he’s on the ship, or how to get home. His two crewmates are dead. He has no way to communicate with Earth. Readers are slowly given this information as Ryland’s memory comes back, with alternating chapters between the past on Earth and the present in space.

The plot unfolds satisfyingly; you aren’t left wondering for too long before a flashback reveals the answer you’ve been looking for, and Ryland gets himself out of trouble almost as quickly as he finds himself in it. And even the science — of which there was more than I anticipated — was incredibly accessible and entertaining. I am not a biologist, chemist, or physicist, but there was no scientific concept that I didn’t inherently grasp, which is quite the feat. The main character is a science teacher, and the science in this book simply felt like a very fun 8th-grade science class. To be fair, I wouldn’t know if it didn’t hold up, but I also don’t care because I was entertained.

The humor is a little silly, sure, but I had fun with it and enjoyed starting the year off with something enjoyable. I believe there is a movie adaptation in the works, and while I do have some questions about how they’ll pull off the visual effects, it seems well-suited for the screen.

Diary of a Void by Emi Yagi

There is no escaping the expectations of motherhood for women, even when they aren’t mothers at all. Diary of a Void critiques these patriarchal expectations, particularly within Japanese culture. I never get tired of this genre!

The main character, Shibata, is a 30-something who is the only woman in her workplace — a job she took to move away from sexual harassment at her last one. As such, she’s expected to do all sorts of menial tasks in addition to her actual work. One day, fed up with the system, she tells her coworkers she’s pregnant — except she isn’t. Immediately, the men all treat her differently, though I can’t say they really treat her better. They’re just shifting one narrow set of expectations to another. But what is better is her work-life balance, her ability to rest for the first time in her adult life, and the men being forced to take on the labor they’d forced on her.

The ruse becomes harder and harder to keep up as she gets further along in her “pregnancy,” and she fully devotes herself to the hoax, even outside of work. The lines between reality and imagination begin to blur, as is always the case when humans tell a lie so convincing that they begin to believe it themselves.

I really enjoyed Diary of a Void, a weird little novel that reminded me some, at least in theme, of Kim Ji-Young, Born 1982. The metaphor is as obvious as the message, but it’s delivered in a quirky package that just feels like classic Japanese lit, which I love. It was also a quick read, so I’d recommend it to anyone who needs a palate cleanser but doesn’t want something fluffy.

Confessions by Catherine Airey

Thanks to the publisher for a galley copy of this one — actually, massive thanks, because I really liked it.

Confessions is split up into distinct parts, each defined by their time period and location. Mainly New York City, in the immediate aftermath of 9/11 and then again later, and various points in time around Ireland. The main characters, all women from the same tragic family, are struggling to find their place in the world and survive. I don’t usually want to just paste descriptions of books, but I think this one is necessary to get a grasp on the intertwining plots:

New York City, late September 2001. The walls of the city are papered over with photos of the missing. Cora Brady’s father is there, the poster she made taped to columns and bridges. When a letter arrives from an aunt she didn’t know existed in Ireland with the offer of a new life, the name jogs a an old videocassette game Cora used to play as a child where two sisters must save the students of a mysterious boarding school.

County Donegal, 1974. An eclectic group of artists known as the Screamers arrives in Burtonport and moves into the old schoolhouse down the road from where Roisin lives with her older sister Moira. Alternately kind and cruel, brilliant artist Moira is a mystery to Roisin, as is Moira’s relationship with the boy next door, Michael. When the Screamers look to hire an artist in residence, Roisin enlists Michael’s help to get Moira the job, setting in motion a chain of events that will put an ocean between the sisters and threaten to tear them apart forever.

Burtonport, 2018. Lyca Brady lives in a sprawling old house with her mother, Cora, and great aunt, Ro. Abortion has just been legalized in Ireland, and Lyca is struggling to find herself outside her mother’s activism. An unexpected message from a childhood friend sends Lyca searching her house’s mysterious attic, with its strange collection of old medical equipment, piles of paperwork, and dusty boxes of ancient video games. There, she unearths secrets hidden for decades—secrets perhaps better left unknown.

As you can guess, this book attempts to do a lot. There are threads tying all of the characters together in ways that you’d never see in real life but that feel so satisfying in books and movies. It’s quite sad at times, and the misfortune these women face can feel unrelenting. If you can think of a theme, particularly a woman’s issue, you can probably bet it’ll be included in Confessions. It maybe could have benefited from the “take one accessory off before you leave the house” rule, but just as in fashion, that’s a matter of taste! And still, I was gripped from beginning to end.

Korea: A New History of North and South by Victor D. Cha and Ramon Pacheco Pardo

I consume a lot of Korean media and culture (including North Korea), and I wanted to learn more about the history instead of just learning how to say “I love you” and “are you crazy” by way of K-dramas. One of my goals this year is to be more intentional with my reading, and I’m doing that partly by learning more about things that interest me.

I can’t speak to the authors’ credentials, which I know are important in a book like this. But they did write a pretty accessible book, despite a few nitpicky editing complaints I had. This history of Korea was easier to digest than I expected — as much as I like nonfiction, I can struggle to read it with any haste — and while it wasn’t a particularly deep dive beyond the basics, some of which even I already knew, I’d still recommend it as a good intro to history, plus it benefits from being more recent than many similar histories.

Fundamentally by Nussaibah Younis

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the e-ARC! This will come out later this month (Feb. 25)

It’s a tale as old as time: a woman sees a project, a woman thinks she can fix it, a woman projects her own insecurities and is forced to confront herself. But in Fundamentally, the project isn’t a mediocre man, it’s a young woman held in an Iraqi refugee camp.

Our protagonist, Nadia, accepts a controversial job with the UN to rehabilitate ISIS brides as a way out of her stale, meaningless academic life and away from a messy break-up. She is almost immediately in over her head as she navigates bureaucratic red tape and the complicated personalities of her colleagues. To really solidify her optimistic naivete, Nadia recognizes her younger, more vulnerable self in Sara and becomes singularly focused on saving her, despite growing indications that Sara has different ideas of freedom than Nadia.

If I told you this was a book about a woman moving to a UN camp to rehabilitate and repatriate ISIS-affiliated women, you’d probably picture a serious, heavy novel, but it simply is not. Of course, it can’t avoid the heavy topics and gives you something to think about, but ultimately, Fundamentally is a dark comedy. That works for me; I love to laugh at shit I shouldn’t be laughing at.

Not all of it clicked for me; I thought the pacing was a bit off at times, leaving me wanting more from certain storylines and less of others. The tone almost read like a contemporary romance at times, meaning the voice is light-hearted and plot-forward. That isn’t a bad thing, but at the same time, it’s not for everyone. I don’t know that it’ll work for readers looking for a deep dive into the subject matter, but sometimes, all I want is for a book to be entertaining. Bonus points if my entertainment comes with a side of substance.

Death of the Author by Nnedi Okorafor

Thank you to the publisher for the galley of this one too!

After hitting a rock bottom of sorts — her literary fiction novel is rejected and she loses her already-shitty adjunct professor job — the protagonist, Zelu, decides to write what she wants rather than what she thinks is good, and she births a science fiction novel that rises to levels of fame she could not have imagined. As a disabled woman in a wheelchair, Zelu creates a fictional world of virtually indestructible robots after humanity’s extinction, reflecting many of her frustrations and desires, and the lines begin to blur between this fictional creation and reality.

This book is truly unique in both content and form. It’s told as a story within a story, alternating between Zelu’s perspective, excerpts of her novel, and interviews with her friends and family. Through the interviews, the author builds a growing sense of dread, with each of her loved ones implying something bad as happened. Because the narrative is paused when we’re given chapters of Zelu’s novel, the tension builds and builds until the very end.

Honestly, I wanted more from the end of this after such incredible build-up to the twist ending. I was left with a lot of questions, and while I assume that was an intentional decision on the author’s part, not all of the openendedness felt necessary. To me, it is a subtle difference that allows for a cliffhanger ending to still feel satisfying. I still really enjoyed this book and was thoroughly entertained, but I cannot say I was left satisfied. Maybe that’s on me! And I don’t know that satisfaction needs to be the goal anyway.

movies

I was on an older movie kick this month, and I even bought a Criterion Channel subscription, which I highly recommend if you’re into movies, but especially if you’re like me and you want to be a movie person but don’t really feel like one.

Here are my letterboxd-style (or literal letterboxd) reviews of the movies I watched this month:

Vertigo (1958) — I too am scared of heights but this movie proves I’m more scared of men

Rope (1948) — there’s an astrology aunty reading everyone for filth in this and the whole movie I was waiting for her to give the murderer’s horoscope and blow the whole thing up. Also, no one ever told me this movie was so gay. I would have watched it sooner.

Before Sunset (2004) — so much was said in that “baby you are gonna miss your plane!” call 911

Certain Women (2016) — so Montana

The Portrait of a Lady (1996) — there are a lot of letterboxd reviews of this movie asking why the lady wasn’t on fire. well???

Frances Ha (2012) — surprisingly delightful and tender! “I’m so embarrassed. I’m not a real person yet.” So, so me in 2012.

Desert Hearts (1985) — nothing is gayer than yearning and yeehaw together

A Different Man (2024) — I completely missed this movie coming out last year, and after watching it, I know why: It is The Substance but for straight boys, and I am not a straight boy. Not in a bad way, though!

Working Girl (1988) — the wild 80s hair and charming Melanie Griffith performance were almost enough to distract me from the brutally capitalistic messaging here. Fun but just so of its era.

The Brutalist (2024) — yeah, you guessed it, brutal. But done really well, with a metaphor that doesn’t need to shout itself at you because it trusts its own power, and the VistaVision was really a delight to see in theaters. Also, an intermission! Unfortunately, I did take my intermission time to pull out my AirPods and save my Duolingo streak, but win some lose some.

Clockwatchers (1997) — in the same vein as Working Girl but the socialist version. Parkey Posey is for sure a comrade, hell ya sister

shows

“Traitors” — this season is so good and I’m so glad they finally figured out that they need to cast for TV. The traitors cannot be boring people!

“Yellowjackets” season 1 — I never watched this show the first time around because it was on Showtime or whatever, and who has Showtime. But now that it’s on Netflix, sign me up! I don’t think I’ll finish what’s available by the time the new season starts, but I’m just wondering how they kept this storyline going for four seasons. As of now, it seems like a one- to two-season show, so I’m hoping that doesn’t mean they’re dragging it out too long and it’s getting the “Lost” curse. It captures teenage-girlhood in such a specific way, and all the timeline-hopping is done seamlessly so that you really believe the adult women are the grown-up versions of their teenage selves. I’m very into it. Cannibalism has been having a cultural moment, which is not a sentence I thought I’d type.

“When the Phone Rings” — One of the silliest, most dramatic K-dramas I’ve watched in a while, which made it all the more delightful to watch with my sister and scream-text. K-dramas are the only shows I can binge, but it’s also fun to wait for a new episode each week. I couldn’t even begin to explain the plot to you. So much happens in the first episode that I thought I’d somehow watched three in a row.

“Perfect Marriage Revenge” — ’tis the season of the unhinged K-drama. The tacky(?) intro of this made me think it was an older one, but no, the producers were just inspired by old soap operas, I guess. This one involves time jumping and the destruction of evil husbands. Slay. I just started “Marry My Husband” as well, and the premise is similar in that the female protagonist is sent back in time after her death and, now that she’s lived her miserable future, decides to spend her second chance changing that and seeking revenge.

$$$

In an effort to reduce my spending and material consumption, I’m going to shame myself by sharing the products I finished during the month rather than the meaningless shit I bought. I’m not sophisticated enough for a whole “project pan” thing, but I am very guilty of never finishing makeup, skincare, etc. before purchasing a different version of the same thing. I have like, 5 Ole Henriksen lip balms in my possession right now. How did I become so out of touch with reality! Anyway:

Bringgreen zinc teca serum: I liked this serum for my acne-riddled face, but I don’t have to consider repurchasing because I got it in a classic Korean 1+1 deal and have another one lying in wait.

A tin of matcha from Macca House: I bought this matcha in Kyoto. I am particularly bad at finishing things like this because I’m much too sentimental, so yay for me. It was fine!

Abib toner pads: I liked these, but I have two other containers of toner pads I need to finish, plus toner pads are in some of the most wasteful packaging there is!

That’s all from me, folks. Tell me what you read, watched and consumed this month!

(Instagram, Goodreads, StoryGraph, or Letterboxd to keep up with my oversharing and obsessive tracking habits)