My Writing Blog

Hello from quarantine!

I know very few people read these things, but I hope all of you are doing well and trying to stay sane. Or, I don’t know, maybe let yourself go insane for a bit. It might help.

Today’s review is on a lovely little book that’s also quite emotionally heavy called Good Enough by Jen Petro-Roy.

I’ll say right off the bat that this is a middle-grade book, something I didn’t realize before reading. I don’t mean that if I had realized it was middle-grade I wouldn’t have read it; I just mean that some of the messages in this book aren’t necessarily applicable to me anymore.

That being said, though, this book is really important, and it can be meaningful to young adults/adults.

I’ve read many, many fiction books about eating disorders because of my own personal experience, but I have to say Good Enough has one of the most realistic portrayals of eating disorders that I’ve ever seen in a fiction novel.

One of my biggest pet peeves with books about eating disorders is that many of the main characters who struggle with the disorders are teeny tiny skinny, which is fine because many people with eating disorders are that way. They’re visibly sick.

But many aren’t.

Eating disorders are mental illnesses that manifest in many physical symptoms, but a lot of people with eating disorders do not look emaciated. In some cases, this leads to people being denied the help they need because they don’t fit the DSM “criteria” (i.e. they don’t have a low enough BMI). This then leads to people getting sicker and sicker and sicker.

When I read books with characters who suffer from eating disorders during my eating disorder, I always compared myself to them and thought I wasn’t sick enough because I didn’t look like them.

There is no such thing as “sick enough.” Sick is sick.

Aaaaaanyway, my point is that I appreciate Petro-Roy for including characters of all different body types in this book who suffer from eating disorders.

There are also a lot of books that romanticize treatment a little bit. Like, “oh this character is sick but they’re just going to go to a hospital and then they’ll be better.”

It doesn’t quite work like that all the time, and Petro-Roy shows some of these struggles. For example, one of the characters, Breanna, ends up going in and out of the hospital because her insurance won’t pay for treatment because she isn’t “sick enough.”

It’s frustrating, but it’s real.

In general, Petro-Roy portrays recovery in a very realistic way, too. There was a really great analogy that the main character, Riley, uses when describing how she got sick that I found really interesting. She compares getting an eating disorder to putting a bunch of ingredients in a bowl; there isn’t one specific thing that got her sick, but she can taste one ingredient more than others on some days. For me at least, this analogy is spot on, and I’ve never heard of anything like it before.

Obviously, there are some moments in this book that aren’t my cup of tea, things that are too dramatic or cheesy or not believable enough because this book isn’t really intended for audiences my age, blah, blah, blah, whatever.

Those things don’t really matter.

Petro-Roy does a fantastic job of portraying numerous eating disorders on numerous different body types and showcasing how difficult recovery is but that it’s possible and worth it.

Okay friends, buckle up.

After I finished this book a week ago, I word-vomited three whole pages, single-spaced, about it.

This is an accurate depiction of what I looked like doing that:

I have so many thoughts, and as much as I would love to just copy and paste those three pages of incoherent words and keyboard smashes, I’m going to do my best to condense it down into a more manageable, easy to read size.

This book is heavy, and I am not talking about physically. Docile is one of the heaviest, darkest, most disturbing books I’ve read in a long time. Given this, I guess the first thing I want to talk about is the depiction of rape in the book because I don’t think it’s something I can avoid. I was shocked to see so many comments and reviews on Goodreads criticizing other readers for being “okay” with the depictions of rape and BDSM. Even more so, I saw many comments criticizing the author, K.M. Szpara for writing a book with rape in it.

No one said we were okay with the rape in this book. We’re not. I’m not. You’re not supposed to be okay with it. This book doesn’t ask you to be okay with it. Similarly, just because Szpara wrote a world where human sex slaves are a thing doesn’t mean he’s condoning it. I don’t like the assumption that writers who write about bad things condone said bad things. It’s fiction. It’s dystopian. He’s allowed to write and comment on difficult topics. It’s his book.

So if you are deciding to read this book, keep in mind that there are graphic depictions of rape. This book definitely isn’t for everyone, and even though I think it’s incredibly thought-provoking and twisted, I realize that not everyone will think this way.

Anyway, Docile is about so much more than those few scenes, so let’s get into that.

I love that the book is written in both Alex and Elisha’s POV. While the story is entirely Elisha’s, it is so important to have Alex’s POV there, too. I think it’s really valuable to know what’s going on in his head and how his thoughts about Dociles change throughout the book.

Even though I do find Alex to be an interesting character, I don’t want to spend too much time talking about him because I hate him to pieces. I can’ t help but hate him for everything he put Elisha through, no matter how much he tried to make up for it.

No, I want to talk about Elisha and his character development.

It’s incredible.

You realize very early on that Elisha is a very unreliable narrator. He doesn’t believe he’s turning into a Docile with Alex, but when Dylan sees him after the races and notices how much he’s changed in such a short amount of time, you know that you can’t trust Elisha because he doesn’t even realize how much he’s changed.

The change in his thoughts during the first six months with Alex is so subtle and so masterfully written that you don’t realize it until you get that outsider perspective. It hits like a ton of bricks to the chest, really.

I don’t want to spoil anything, so I won’t talk about the ending no matter how much I want to, but just know that I could write a full essay only on the last twenty pages.

In this book you will meet characters you think you will hate for the rest of your lives but grow to love, and you will meet characters who you think you will love forever and then grow to hate. Nobody is completely good or innocent. Nearly everyone is complicit in a very messed-up system no matter how much they try not to be.  

Speaking of this messed-up system, I found it awful how entrenched it is in society that love doesn’t really exist anymore. Love is kind of a foreign concept, and when it finally does come up, everyone treats it like it’s wrong and awful.

Though tropey at times, the characters in Docile are complex and interesting and intriguing. It is unlike any dystopia I’ve ever read (and I’ve read a lot), and it scares the shit out of me. It’s very unafraid to say things many other books are afraid to say.

It will rarely make you laugh, and it might make you cry a lot. I had to gather up the courage to pick it up again after I put it down. I think there’s something to be said for books that sit uncomfortably in your brain for a long time after you read it.

Docile is emotional, disturbing, brutally honest, unforgettable, and a million other things.

On a more uplifting note: I can’t even imagine writing a debut novel like this. Like, Szpara really did the damn thing, and it’s only his debut novel. What? How? He’s incredible.

Hello, friends, and welcome back to another book review! I’m so excited you’re here because I haven’t been this fired up about a book in a while. I have so many thoughts in my head that I’m just ready to spew out. Yes, that’s a disgusting verb. No, I don’t regret using it.

Let’s get into it!

In just one sentence, On A Sunbeam is a super gay graphic novel, set in space, about tracking down long-lost love, rebuilding the past, and the importance of found families.

If you aren’t already downloading the free webcomic (onasunbeam.com), ordering the physical book on Amazon, or traveling to the nearest library to snatch it off the shelves, then what are you doing?

Keep reading on. I will convince you.

In a few sentences, On A Sunbeam is about Mia, the new member of a space crew that rebuilds broken-down structures. Told through flashbacks, we learn about Mia’s pivotal year in boarding school where she found love and then lost it. So this story is technically two stories in one, both unique but connected. Mia’s space crew consists of two married women, their niece, and a mute, non-binary person who all help Mia on her intergalactic, dangerous journey to find the love she once lost.

Sometimes, a weird thing happens when I hold a book in my hands. I get this warm feeling in my chest and a sense that a book belongs to me, like I’m meant to read that story at that exact moment. It’s almost like all the lights go out and there’s a spotlight on the book and voices all around yelling at me to read it.

That weird thing happened before I read this book, and well… duh. Now I understand why. Of course it did. It’s incredible.

Look at this art!

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Someone drew this! Incredible!

Listen, I don’t read graphic novels often, so I don’t have much to compare this to. All I know is that On A Sunbeam is the best graphic novel I’ve read, and here’s why:

The world-building. I mean, this whole thing takes place in space, in a fully functional space civilization. The amount of creativity it must take to be able to not only come up with this world but to draw it is incredible.

The characters. There are zero, count them, zero male main characters in this story. This is not to say that male characters make a story worse, but this opens up the opportunity for other representation, like Ell who’s non-binary. Each character in this book has their own story and their own complex personalities, which I really appreciate.

The plotline. This story is just really heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. I was crying tears of joy and tears of sadness all at once. If you love space if you love great LGBTQ representation, and if you love beautiful art, read this book.

I want to try and convey how incredible of an artist Tillie Walden is.

*deep inhale*

Like, she’s so incredible that I’m going to go order the rest of her graphic novels and buy prints from her and set her artwork as my lock screens and backgrounds for the rest of my life because of how many things her art makes me feel.  

I just look at her art and I’m all:

Since words truly cannot capture Tillie Walden’s talent, I want to include a few of my favorite sketches of hers because the world needs to see them:

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If you love her art as much as I do, please support her. She’s doing great, important work for LGBTQ representation, and I really think more people should know about her and her stories.  

Have I convinced you now?

Well, hi there! Long time no see!

I certainly wasn’t expecting to be back here so soon, but blogging was my favorite part of making this website, so maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. Anyway, this time I’m blogging for my English 425 class, and I’ll be reviewing some books (which is a favorite pastime of mine).

Up first is Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, and let me tell you, this book and I have quite a long history with each other. I first read Bird by Bird in 2015, just after I had completed NaNoWriMo for the first time. Needless to say, I couldn’t have read the book at a much better time. Then, I read it in a creative writing class at UWGB in 2017, and now in 2020.

I can say with certainty that each time I read Bird by Bird, it’s like a really good slap in the face. It’s a wake-up call; Lamott’s punchy language, sarcasm, and strong tone make it feel a bit like she’s scolding me. I certainly need that sometimes.

I will definitely say this: if you’re a writer, and if you’re in a rut, read this book. Although many of the things Lamott talks about in Bird by Bird seem like common sense (shitty first drafts, writing for yourself, creating dramatic climax scenes, etc.), your overthinking mind will benefit from going back to basics.

Because that’s really all it comes down to, right? Shut your mind up, sit down, and write. So, so easy.

One aspect of writing that I always need reminders on is characterization and creating complex, life-like characters. Lamott writes that you need to “listen to your characters carefully” because they are, after all, real people. This is always a good reminder for me because I often create one-dimensional characters who aren’t dichotomous or complex enough. I need to be reminded that I can make my characters do bad things or be bad people and that doesn’t have any reflection on me.

I also really love the chapter in this book about Polaroids and the idea that you aren’t supposed to see the final product or the finish line of your work until you get there. As an extreme planner who wants to know everything that’s going to happen before I write it, this is also a great reminder for me to be more spontaneous, to be okay chilling out in the unknown.

And now that I’ve said that, I apologize, but this gif is necessary:

Of course, this ties into perfectionism and jealousy and all those wonderful things, but I think the overall takeaway I continue to get from this book each time I read it is that I need to relax a little bit. The best I can do is write for myself, write something that I really love, and I can figure out the rest later.

However, I like how Lamott points out in the “Calling Around” chapter that writing doesn’t have to be a solitary thing. You can call people and ask questions that only they know the answers to. I mean, there are only so many Google searches I can make about murder before the FBI is knocking at my door. Instead, I should just go ask my lawyer brother who, yes, might judge me more than Google, but at least he won’t have to defend me when the FBI comes.

I really love this book, and I know I’ll keep coming back to it throughout my writing career to feel a bit better about myself, to be reminded that “very few writers know what they are doing until they’ve done it.”