What I Read: January-April 2025

I finally return from the land of the dead! The day after I graduated with my master’s, the stress reading on my Garmin watch suddenly improved by about 10 points, which goes to show that the background stress of graduate school is no joke. But I passed my thesis defense, and so it’s officially over. I’ll be taking a few years off to consider whether to apply to go on for a PhD, but I plan to continue my research and post more updates here in the meantime.

Since my last reading update, I have attended three conferences: LTUE 43, ICFA 46, and the Eaton Conference on Speculative Fiction. All really interesting events with the chance to soak up a lot of speculative fiction thinking. One thing ICFA’s fantasy track did this year that I loved is send out a reading list of all the texts that people were presenting on. Of course, there was no way to read them all, but I got to 4-5 of them, which made many of the papers more relevant to me. More conferences should do this!

I also just got finished with attending Storymakers with my friend Marinda Misra, whose debut novel The Healer Academy was a finalist for the Whitney Awards in two categories. She’s on substack, so if you like YA fantasy with a religious and romantic bent, you should check her out!

For the next month, I’m in another marathon sprint of conferences before taking the summer off to relax a bit, travel to Japan, and honestly, just declutter my house from everything that has accumulated over two years of grad school. Here’s the schedule of places you’ll find me:

May 16-17: Faith and Knowledge Conference (SLC, UT) – I’m really excited by the chance to meet with so many other interesting early career scholars and grad students. The conference is closed to the public, so I can’t share who else is there, but I’ll be presenting on “The Risks and Rewards of Imagining the Divine.”

May 28-30: AML/MSH Joint Conference (Ephraim, UT) – I’m on a round table discussing the “great Mormon epic,” and why Mormons seem draw to the epic form. (Obviously, this has implications for why Mormons keep writing epic fantasy as well.) I’m also the MC for the AML Awards.

June 5-7: MHA Conference (Ogden, UT) – I’ll be presenting my research on Orson Scott Card’s rewrite of the Hill Cumorah Pageant. It’s a shame that so much of Card’s explicitly LDS work gets neglected. As I argued in another post, Card is unique as an LDS SF writer because he speaks both to the general public and to an insider audience. I think he’s had a greater influence on LDS thought than people realize, not the least of which is through the Hill Cumorah pageant’s framing of the “Mormon story.”

June 18, 7 pm: Wayfare Fantasy and Religion Lecture for The Compass Gallery (Provo, UT) – I’m really excited to see the Compass Gallery doing an exhibit of fantasy artists in June and explicitly tying in faith. I’ll be on a panel with Steven Peck and Chanel Earl (possibly others) about how fantasy can build faith. It should be an engrossing discussion, and it’s open to the public!

Geez, seeing it all laid out like that, no wonder I’m tired! Anyway, I have four months of book reviews for you now, some longer than others. Hopefully I can get back to a more regular pace of updates now that grad school is over (right??).

Speculative Fiction

Gwenhwyfar: The White Spirit by Mercedes Lackey – As I’m taking a class on women in Arthurian legend that focuses more on the medieval and early texts, I’m trying to supplement with my own reading of some of the more recent takes on the legend that fall within the speculative fiction umbrella. This retelling of the story of Gweneviere certainly hits that mark. Gwenhwyfar recasts Gweneviere as a woman choosing between her own innate magical talents and her desire to become a horsewoman warrior. Lackey’s reimagining of the story apparently derives from a scrap of ancient poetry that mentions not one but three women named Gwenhwyfar associated with the Arthur legend. So the book gets rather confusing in that the main character’s sister is also named Gwenhwyfar (she ends up becoming the protege of Morgaine and the wife of Mordred) as is Arthur’s first wife (the protagonist become Arthur’s second wife after this first one runs away).

For me personally, the pacing of this book was uneven. I nearly gave up in the first 25% because of the constant focus on Gwenhwyfar’s horse obsession. I’ve never been a horse girl, but if you are one, you might enjoy this book. The Arthurian connections are barely present in the first half of the book, then begin to grow slowly then exponentially as we near the finish line. That made the book feel rushed at the end, trying to get through Gwenhwyfar’s affair with Lancelot and the betrayal of Mordred. I don’t think it will be one of my favorite Arthur retellings, but it’s worth a look for those interested in a more feminine take on the legend that isn’t the now-tainted Mists of Avalon.

Tehanu by Ursula K. Le Guin – A very different take for Earthsea. This one finally pulled me in where the others in the series have been meh or middling for me. I guess I’m just a sucker for fantasy books about middle-aged women and where the answer is not violence. LeGuin is doing really cool stuff here, and I see a re-read in my future to figure out exactly what and how.

The Beautiful Ones by Silvia Moreno-Garcia – Picked this one up as the author will be the guest of honor at ICFA 2025 and I hadn’t yet read any of her works. This one came in first on the library holds. The book reminds me strongly of Mary Robinette Kowal’s Glamour in Glass in that it’s primarily a regency romance with some very decorative and frivolous magic thrown in for entertaining the upper classes.

Where Kowal’s book felt very Pride and Prejudice, I’d put this one somewhere between a Jane Austen and something more like Wuthering Heights. There’s a strong love triangle here, along with the trope of first love being all consuming. Both of these are tropes that I usually roll my eyes at, but for this book, they absolutely worked. The novel had the kind of over-the-top emotional magnetism that you’d get out of your favorite guilty-pleasure reality TV, but with a lot more sophistication in language and imagery. Indeed, I was certainly pulled through the novel in less than a week. I also enjoyed the female lead’s “not your typical romantic protagonist” hobby of collecting bugs, but I’m always a sucker for academic women in my fiction.

If I had to pick one adjective to describe this book, it might be “gothic,” which seems to fit with the rest of her work. Mexican Gothic had been on the edges of my TBR for a long time, with me hesitating on whether I would enjoy it when I’m not a bit fan of gothic fiction, but after reading and enjoying this, I will likely be picking it up.

The Daughter of Doctor Moreau by Silvia Moreno-Garcia – Really excellent twisting of the original story. A dark Gothic fantasy with everything bubbling under the surface of the naive narrator. I liked the strange twist on the Eve mythology throughout. Highly recommend.

That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis – I have put off reading the final book in the Space trilogy for many years because I had heard about how super weird it was. But I figured if there was ever a time to read it, it was while taking a class on Arthurian legend. Now, the Arthurian aspect was actually a lot smaller than I expected, as was the planetary aspect. Honestly, the main thing you need to do to prepare to read this book is to read The Abolition of Man, which contains a lot of the same ideas but in nonfictional form. I can also see a lot of the influence of Charles William’s The Place of the Lion in this book, from the character of the female academic avoiding marital duties to the idea of the gods coming down. Honestly, it’s a very prophetic book to read in the age of AI, but not as engaging as a work of fiction as Out of the Silent Planet or Perelandra. Also, no one told me there was a Busby in this book, so that was a fun Easter egg.

Wild Seed by Octavia E. Butler – What an absolutely wild book. The feeling of utter horror and inevitability for most of the book is extremely well executed. I don’t know how she managed to pull off the ending without making it feel cheap, but it’s extremely impressive. I may continue with the rest of the series when I can handle the trauma.

The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman – I was skeptical when the NYTimes review called this the first major Arthurian retelling for the 21st century, but I think Grossman pulls it off. I didn’t enjoy the film version of his Magicians series, so I never picked up his other books, but I really enjoyed this one. You can tell he’s playing with quite a bit of Arthuriana, from medieval legends through Victorian classics all the way through modernish versions like The Winter King and Mists of Avalon. The storytelling is unpredictable and goes in cycles that tend to end in dead-ends, but it works with the theme of the book. Highly recommended.

The Sword in the Stone by T.H. White – I did not anticipate just how faithful the Disney adaptation was to the original. Granted, Madam Mim was made a lot less scary and misogynist, but that’s a positive change. Lots of dialogue in the film was lifted straight from the book. Sometime I’ll continue on to read the read of the larger work, but this gave me a good sense for what T.H. White was about.

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle – Absolutely thrilled to finally have read this book. Again, amazed at the faithfulness of the film version, right down to the butterfly’s dialogue. I enjoyed the longer version of Mummy Fortuna’s zoo in this one, particularly that Arachne is thrown in. The mixing of mythologies here reminds me strongly of what Lewis did in Narnia, not being too worried about making things cohesive. It’s also clear that this universe is somehow connected to ours in unclear ways. Anyway, you don’t need me to tell you this is a fantasy classic and worth reading.

The Way Home: Two Novellas from the World of The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle – Two very strange novellas, both of which feel utterly different from the Last Unicorn, yet there’s something about the narration that ties them together even if the world-building is almost entirely different.

The Brides of High Hill by Nghi Vo – I really enjoyed the Asian ghost story vibes of this book, but the twist seemed like a complete non-sequitur to me. But that could be my bad, as I might have zoned out on the audiobook and missed something. Anyway, worth it for a short listen, but I was left wanting more.

The Maid and the Crocodile by Jordan Ifueko – This book is a combination of a Beauty and the Beast-type folktale and a handbook on how to lead a Marxist uprising. You probably know if you’re in the target audience for that. The magic was the highlight of this book and what kept me reading when I got tired of descriptions of how everyone rich is evil. It’s a cleaning-based magic system based on how we are influenced by others expectations. The romance isn’t too bad either. I just got bored of the didactic, simplistic message.

Fiction

The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin – I don’t think I’ve reread this one since I first read it in fifth grade. I remembered it as being one of my favorite books that year, though it had strong competition from Tuck Everlasting. Returning to The Westing Game for a quick January book club read, I found it still charming but a little less clever. As a more experienced reader, you can tell that the author didn’t really know where she was going from the beginning but opened a lot of possibilities and then scrambled to close them all. For me, this meant that the beginning is much more fun than the ending, but it’s still a fun mystery read for kids.

Lancelot; Or, the Knight of the Cart – A fascinating side of Lancelot that I had never seen before my Arthurian class.

The Winter King by Bernard Cornwell – Excellent retelling of Arthurian legend. Though I dislike the low/no magic aspect as a fantasy reader, Cornwell makes it work very well. The frame narrative of a side character looking back and explaining the story provides interesting color. Worth reading if you enjoy Arthuriana and haven’t already read it.

Le Lai de Lanval by Marie de France – A fun short story about Sir Lanval who becomes the lover of the fairy queen but can’t tell anyone. Pretty fun and worth a read.

The Knight of the Parrot: Early Adventures of Young King Arthur, translated by Thomas E. Vesce – A very weird medieval text about a young King Arthur. Guaranteed that you have never heard these episodes before, including the fish knight and the giant nursed by a mother unicorn, all narrated by King Arthur’s parrot sidekick.

Nonfiction

Winning Arguments: What Works and Doesn’t Work in Politics, the Bedroom, the Courtroom, and the Classroom by Stanley Fish – I expected to like this one more than I did, and I think the issue was a matter of expectations. I had seen some of the Goodreads reviews rant about the “unnecessary religion stuff” brought into the book. Of course, being myself someone who is always bringing in “unnecessary religion stuff” into my conversations, I thought that would be a plus for me.

In reading the book, I found the real issue was not the religion per se but the fact that this book is secretly a literary analysis of Paradise Lost masquerading as a book about argument. That’s not a bad thing in itself; I just read Paradise Lost last summer and would be very interested to look at argument in the book. It’s just the false advertising that really throws you off. Rhetoric is all about predicting and managing the expectations of your audience, so the fact that this was bungled so badly in a book about rhetoric seems problematic.

Other than the expectations issue, the book flows freely through ideas rather than being practical. It’s a fun listen, but not particularly applicable to the context of teaching persuasive writing, which was where I was trying to go with it.

The Game Changers: How Playing Games Changed the World and Can Change You Too by Tim Clare – A really fun book if you’re a board game nerd like me. This book includes not only the obvious board game stories (eg Monopoly was invented by a woman and later ripped off by a man) but goes one layer deeper (eg Monopoly was possibly based on a Native American board game), so there was lots of new and interesting information. I especially enjoyed learning about the Japanese game of Karuta, where players race to be the first to slap a card containing the second half of a poem which is being read by a judge. I absolutely need there to be an English language version of said game; plus I hear there’s an anime series based on the game that I’m adding to my watchlist. My only complaint about the book is that the ending is a bit abrupt: a research thread for the book leads the author to receiving a diagnosis of autism. While the story is interesting, it seems a strange note to end the book on without bringing it back around to board games. Other than that slight stumble, I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys board games and wants to defend their closet full of very expensive paper and cardboard as a legitimate and important part of humanity.

Divine Law: Themes in the Doctrine and Covenants by Justin Collings – A good summary of the theme of divine law throughout the Doctrine and Covenants. I’m still thinking about a few of the ideas from this book after finishing it. The biggest one of these is how the D&C sets up divine law as a component of God’s mercy and love rather than an opposite to it.

Brunelleschi’s Dome: How a Renaissance Genius Reinvented Architecture by Ross King – Brunelleschi himself is fascinating! I really enjoyed learning more about renaissance architecture (and remembering some of what I learned back in my high school humanities course). There are some great stories here that were mind-blowing not only in their content but in how they survived as stories to this day–like an epic practical joke that Brunelleschi played on a rival.

Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President by Candice Millard – A reread for book club. This book has only grown on me since I first read it back in 2016, and ironically the state of the nation has continued to make President Garfield’s story even more resonant. Millard’s writing absolutely holds up. She’s compulsively readable. Even if you aren’t usually into thick historical books, you should pick up this one.

ICFA 45 Debrief: Notes from the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts

I’ve recently returned from the 45th International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts. Since I’m an introvert and have to push myself to network, I set a goal before the conference to talk to three new people each day and have at least one interesting conversation. Well, that goal was absolutely an underestimate of how much fun I had talking to all these wonderful scholars and creatives. It was an absolute dream to attend. When you want to study fantasy and science fiction, there are a lot of people in English departments who won’t take you seriously. Being in a place where everyone else is also interested in what speculative fiction has to say was so refreshing.

My presentation was part of a panel of two papers on Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi. It was a fascinating panel in that my co-presenter and I came to exactly opposite conclusions about whether the novel supported or denied the idea of Escape into the fantastic, as theorized by Tolkien. John Pennington (whose work on George McDonald I’m going to have to look into when I finally get around to reading Phantasties) framed the novel as rejecting the premise of a secondary world in favor of a world that is deeply intertwined with, and even formed from, the primary world. He also cited a lot of postsecular theorists in his discussion, which gave me a whole different way to understand the book that I’m going to need to spend some time working on.

My paper, “‘The Beauty of the House is Immeasurable’: Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi on the Uses of Speculative Fiction for Escape During the Covid Pandemic,” took an opposite tack. I looked at the relationship of the protagonist to the artistic and symbolic world he lived in as representative of our relationship with speculative fiction, coming to the conclusion that the book demonstrates how Tolkien’s idea of constructive Escape functions. I tied in the public reaction to the book when it was published in the early pandemic as well as my own experiences using media to cope with 2020.

I was blown away by the discussion which brought up ideas that could spark at least 3-4 other papers about the novel. (Edited collection on Piranesi, anyone?) It was an honor to be in a panel with such an intelligent audience. I felt like I finally experienced the purpose of an academic conference: getting feedback on your ideas from people who really care about the subject.

David G Hartwell Award co-winners, Liz Busby and Sasha Bailyn

I guess the people running the conference also liked my paper, because at the closing banquet, I received the David G. Hartwell Emerging Scholar Award, along with Sasha Bailyn, whose interesting publication Inglenook Lit combines creative nonfiction and speculative fiction which blows my mind. I’m really honored by this award; it gives me real validation and encouragement for my crazy desire to spend the rest of my career focused on speculative fiction.

Below are some comments and notes on my favorite papers and panels that I attended. (There were so many good panels that I didn’t get a chance to attend as well!)

Continue reading “ICFA 45 Debrief: Notes from the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts”

Writer in Review: 2023

This is my third year continuing my writer in review tradition. I don’t know if these are valuable to anyone else out there but me, but I really enjoy the forced opportunity to reflect back on the work I’ve been doing. Sometimes in the thick of it, I don’t see any progress, but then you look back on a whole year and can see real changes. So without further ado, a summary of last year.

a woman writing numbers on sand with her hand
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On the Pressure to Read the Best Books

One of the many things that gives me imposter syndrome as a humanities graduate student is the fact that I don’t like so many of the classic literary works that I’m supposed to be studying. During my undergraduate years, I was often in the awkward position of loving reading and hating most of the books I had to read for class. Part of this was that I tend to enjoy speculative fiction books and, at the time, very few professors taught speculative fiction books as part of their courses. I did love my Shakespeare class and a few of the novels I read grew on me through the process of discussion. But by and large, the books I remember most from that time period were the ones that I read on my own or with the CS Lewis society on campus.

In the years since, I’ve often felt the obligation to embark on projects to read the “great works,” however you end up defining that. I’m particularly enamored of the format set up in Susan Wise Bauer’s The Well-Trained Mind of following a rotating, four-year schedule of reading books by period: ancient, classical/medieval, early modern, and modern. (The beautiful systematic approach appeals to me, plus it doesn’t hurt that it aligns well with the church’s Come Follow Me scripture study rotation.) My most recent attempt at this was following the Hardcore Literature Book Club on YouTube, which had me reading both War and Peace and The Brothers Karamazov in the same year, which I’m not sure I can recommend for anyone looking to get enjoyment out of literature.

beige pages book open
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The issue with most “read the classics” approaches is that they tend to be based on reputation, with subsequent pressure to say that we enjoyed them even when we blatantly didn’t. My father-in-law had a habit of saying whenever one of his kids didn’t enjoy a canonical work that “the classics aren’t on trial,” with the implication being that you, or at least your character as a cultured person, is; that your worth as a person, or at least as a reader, is determined by matters of taste. Or rather by denying that this is a matter of taste at all.

On the one hand, I see the value of consuming books that we don’t necessarily like or immediately jive with. It can help us avoid the slump towards books that we “use” to indulge in favorite tropes. We all know someone who reads what seems to be the same romance novel over and over. By challenging us with something that we experience for the first time and have to work at. By doing so, we can expand our tastes: I didn’t used to appreciate edamame or hummus, but with repeated exposure, they are now some of my favorite foods.

And some books have been undeniably important to the world conversation. Part of my motivation for doing the double-Russian last spring was that I didn’t feel I could rightly be commenting on issues of belief in literature if I hadn’t at least been exposed to The Bros K. It’s such a formative work on the subject for our collective understanding. The canon is not as set as we think it is, but also, certain books are important for a reason. Sometimes we have to reach beyond our personal tastes to acknowledge this.

But sometimes the pressure to like a book that’s been proclaimed a classic can actually squash our ability to have a real conversation about it. I often felt this way as an undergraduate, hesitant to say that I found Victorian classics like Dickens and Hardy to be wordy and boring, because I worried about how it would reflect on my own character (and how it might damage my relationship with a professor who controlled my grade).

One thing that has liberated me at least somewhat from this perspective was reading about C.S. Lewis’s dislike of TS Eliot–not just personal dislike or professional envy, but saying that what he wrote was bad poetry (which would have been heresy in several of my classes). But from Lewis’s perspective, Eliot was simply a contemporary, not a major shaper of modernism that I met him as. Seeing this literary giant as a human person whose work was not universally praised gave me permission to realize that I could both recognize something as important and stand by the idea that I didn’t like it.

A book’s spot in the canon is not a mark of merit per se but a mark of engagement with the current issues in our public consciousness. As Daniel Coleman wrote in In Bed with the Word, books “stay alive because they are not hermetically sealed, closed off against new engagements, appropriations, and interpretations. … We play the texts we read into life” (84). Too often, students (myself included) approach the books they read in school with this “hermetically sealed” mindset, that we are here to measure ourselves against something which is externally judged to be worthy. But this attitude tends to result in a dead-on-arrival engagement with literature, kills the real connection (or lack thereof) we might have with the text. For me to really enjoy the works that previous generations have deemed to be great, I have to be free to engage with them as something living and real, something that represents the inner thoughts or imagination of a living person, who I may or may not get along with. Strangely, by giving myself the option to hate the classics, I find myself more likely to enjoy them.