#reviewed 2022

This is a pretty good overview of the various complexities of non-binary genders and their implications at this point in time.

Being a non-binary person who tries to keep somewhat on top of the current queer discourse, a lot of the information in here wasn't especially new to me in itself, but it was still interesting and informative. The writing style is academic, but terminology is explained well and I feel like it's probably still accessible for most people.

I'm leaving a review at all because I really passionately hate it. It's probably one of the worst books I have ever read.

As a disclaimer, this isn't a book that appealed to me a whole lot conceptually. I did my dissertation on cyberpunk media and this was one of the books I read for it, and I really wish I'd read some of the other books I'd bought and never ended up getting round to instead. I finished it only because I couldn't let such a terrible book beat me.

The book follows Wade Watts, an insufferable young man, as he competes to find an Easter egg within the OASIS - the MMORPG everyone plays in Cline's vision of the future - and win a whole load of money. Wade is very poor and very sad and so he wants to win the fortune, and because he knows so much about video games and 80s culture (much like the creator of the game), he wins, obviously, and he kisses the girl he likes and everything is lovely and happy. A lot of critical literature I read for my dissertation spoke about how cyberpunk as a whole had a tendency to be a way for nerdy guys to write a fantasy story where they were really cool and powerful as a direct result for their nerdiness, and I'd say this particularly applies here.

The misogyny is really out there. It's that weird "nice guy" flavour of misogyny. Apparently, all the girls in the OASIS have avatars that either look like supermodels (read: too skinny for Cline's self-insert) or porn stars (read: too "fake" and large-breasted for Cline's self-insert). The girl Wade likes isn't like that. She's curvy. Nerdy, too. And Wade saves all the pictures of her avatar that she posts and stalks her obsessively for years, because, you know, normal behaviour. Yes, of course he ends up dating her. No, he never faces consequences for being a massive creep, unless you count a falling-out they have at one point where he wins her affection back by stalking her some more. As in, she blocks him on everything, stops posting on her very popular blog, so he visits her in-game home repeatedly to harass her, because he reckons that's really romantic. I reiterate: he never faces consequences for this.

Similarly, there's a degree of racism, mostly in the characters of Daito and Shoto, who are always going on about "honour" and are essentially walking stereotypes. Daito gets "disappeared" by Generic Big Evil Corporation in the real world, and Wade asks if he could have possibly killed himself after losing access to his avatar (on which he had made good progress in the Easter egg hunt, and maybe you can only have one avatar, I don't recall). Shoto says "No, Daito did not commit seppuku," because, you know, he's Japanese. Not like seppuku is a very specific form of ritual suicide or anything. The scene is meant to be very serious and dark, to my recollection, and it feels like a weird joke that doesn't land.

There was a missed opportunity, I think, in that Wade would have made a good main character for something satirical, or at least something where the overall goal of the story was for him to grow from his mistakes. Instead, he remains whiny, immature, and generally dislikable, and the most character growth we see is probably after a point where he becomes depressed and stays inside masturbating constantly, and eventually decides to stop doing that.

The book relies on the reader thinking "Hey, I get that reference!" very, very heavily, and so most scenes that are clearly meant to be really cool and epic end up reading as… a bit sad, honestly. I have my own niche and/or obsessive interests, and will never put people down for loving a franchise or whatever, but "Ooh, my car is the DeLorean from Back to the Future and also the Knight Rider car and it has the Ghostbusters numberplate!" is just, I don't know. A bit much, maybe. A bit fanfic.

The book tries to have a vaguely anti-corporate message, presumably because Cline felt that was needed as part of the cyberpunk-y vibe he was going for, but it falls on its face even conceptually when it is so indulgent in the consumerist nostalgia that's so prevalent in media currently in the real world. I personally think it's perfectly fine for a book to be fun fluff in general, don't get me wrong, but I still feel like the irony is worth mentioning.

First, shout-out to whoever did the cover design for this book, because it goes hard.

More importantly, in terms of content, this is an incredibly evocative book, to me - hence the high rating. It was unpleasant to read because of how real it felt.

This especially shows in McCurdy's very frank coverage of her eating disorders. I've had a similar experience of being anorexic, bulimic, somewhere in between, and it's something I'd still not say I'm totally recovered from. Although her descriptions are never hyper-detailed or visceral, they encapsulate exactly how it feels - her descriptions of binging and purging were probably the first I've read where I thought, "Yes! That's it, that's the best way you could describe it".   I would say it might be best to read this when you feel like you're in a safe headspace, if you're someone with any tendencies towards disordered eating.

Of course, the stuff I didn't relate to - the awful, horrible mother, and the stresses of unwanted child stardom - had the same reality to it. That sounds silly, because, yeah, it IS real, but being able to express one's history in a way that makes the reader feel almost like they lived it themselves is a hell of a skill. The writing style is casual and chatty, but I'm pretty sure that is independent of the sheer rawness of it.

This book was alright, I suppose, but it was trying too hard to be funny and it's a bit obnoxious.

The cover is 10/10 and I think the people and topics that Loehr discusses are important - I'm definitely going to put some of the bibliography on my to-read list - but it's hard to take it seriously. It's not like history (or non-fiction in general) has to be written in a really dry or academic way, don't get me wrong, but it's just a bit... well, too much for me. The most bizarre "funny quip" was "Oh, the older relative! We've all been there. For me, it was a sexy great-aunt." Have we? Have we really all been there? Ending the book with "Right, I need to get laid." was also certainly a decision. Maybe I'm too asexual to understand and this is on me.

It's not a bad overview of the history of wlw, I don't think, and it's good to see something written about the people who are notoriously straight-washed or just ignored. There is a glaring lack of mention of trans lesbians, and a couple of people are included who it seems might not have been too fond of being included in the category of "women". Some acknowledgement of genderqueer, women-adjacent people is there, but generally only those who were AFAB. I don't believe the author is transphobic per se, but there's occasional hints of transphobic bias, if that makes any sense. The book does acknowledge that the terminology we have now is kind of hard to apply retrospectively to people who didn't have the same language with which to self-identify, which is very true, so I'll give it that. Still, I would have thought more gender theory-based stuff would be included in a book about queer women, you know?

I'll be honest, I bought this book mostly because a) the art was nice and b) cool animals. I didn't inspect it long enough to realise it was a memoir, so I was a little disappointed that it wasn't comprised of mostly animal facts. Only saying that for the Cool Animal Facts fans out there - it's not a critique!

That said, the way this book is written - as a memoir that uses unusual or interesting animals and plants as a sort of mirror for Nezhukumatathil's experiences - is really lovely. Some of them are actual physical things that have importance in her life, such as the corpse flowers which she visits to see them bloom, and others are just things that resonate with her, such as the axolotl. She discusses her childhood, her work, and her experience raising children, and although it's not especially in depth, it's written in a way that's very personal and heartfelt.

I do find the bit at the end that's like "kids these days are on their phones and not outside" a little bit eyeroll-inducing, but I would hasten to point out that's a specific pet peeve of mine - it always feels that the kids are being blamed for things out of their control. Hell, it's not even the parents' fault all the time - if you live somewhere especially urbanised, kids can only see nature if their parents have the means to take them on day trips or holidays.

I'm not 100% sure what I expected going into this, but I wasn't expecting such a funny book.

The writing style is old-fashioned, obviously, but it's like having your friend tell you what's been going on and I love it.

Maybe it's because I heard before reading it that Mr Darcy's autistic-coded, but I felt so bad for him, everyone thinking he was rude for so long when he just struggles with talking to people! His sister, too.

Anyway, the characters in this are great. Mr and Mrs Bennet are hilarious - the former for his sarcasm and detached, observational kind of wit; the latter for her well-meaning but absolutely awful insistence on getting her daughters married off to good (read: rich) men at any cost. This is rather unfortunate for the daughters in question - Mr Darcy, in particular, cites the parents as very off-putting to any men with any interest in them.

Jane and Elizabeth are very sweet women who I feel I'd like to be friends with. Mr Bingley's a good egg, although his sisters are total bitches. How he ended up so pleasant compared to the others is a mystery. Mary only features occasionally, but her tendency to show up and say something that she thinks sounds awfully clever was really funny - and I can't pretend I didn't kind of relate to that, as much as I hate to admit it. The younger sisters are silly little things, with their infatuation with officers , but it was good that Kitty grew up a bit by the end, even if Lydia painted herself into a corner, sadly.

Mr Collins!! Oh, he is awful. Proof that guys were doing the whole "you're not that hot anyway lmao" thing 200 years ago. His disastrous proposal to Elizabeth, and his denial of her rejection, made me cringe horribly. Poor Charlotte, who ended up stuck with him. I mean, she seemed okay with it, never expecting to marry anyone for love anyway, but she has to deal with him! His tendency to completely bow and scrape to anyone he sees as having higher rank; look down upon anyone he sees as lower; and humblebrag like nothing else regardless made him very fun to hate.

Agh! What wasted potential!

Right, so, first, I will say that I do think Rio is a talented writer: she has a huge vocabulary and knows how to use it. Her love of Shakespeare shines through - something I don't have in common with her, but which I can't help but appreciate. Inexplicably, she has a real knack for writing convincing, yet incredibly elegant, sexual tension, which I know is terribly specific, but what can I say? I rarely come across sexual tension in books that I find draws me in like that. The framed narrative is done really well, and the Acts and Scenes as chapter divisions is a cute touch. These reasons are why I give the book the stars I have given it.

Unfortunately, a talent for sentence construction does not always come with a talent for storytelling. The characters are flat and while I think what she's going for is a cool concept, it just didn't do it for me. I love a good descent into madness and blurring of the lines between reality and imagination, but I feel it necessitates a greater depth of character to work than what we're given.

This is my main issue with the book: we have seven main characters, and maaaybe seven personality traits between them.

We have Richard, who is aggressive. Meredith is sexy. Alexander is gay (vaguely implied to be bi at one point) and smokes weed. Nobody gives a shit about Filippa. James… exists. Wren also exists, but barely. And Oliver is into James, and also sort of Meredith, but only really because she is, as we have established, very sexy. All of them quote Shakespeare at any time, any place, even those that are grossly inappropriate moments to quote one's favourite media. Thing is, these characters just aren't very likeable. I know what it's like to have interests that are niche and which I absolutely breathe, and I've always hovered on the lower end of any social hierarchy, yet even I felt an overwhelming urge to bully these people. It took half the book for me to remember who was who aside from Meredith and Richard because they have the strongest personalities (and because I have a Caterpie on Pokemon Go called Meredith and my grandad's called Richard).

That the characters are so flat ruined the plot because nobody really has any motivation behind their actions. Oliver's into Meredith because she's sexy. Richard starts committing random acts of violence and it's implied it's because he's mad about a casting decision and everyone aside from Meredith is surprisingly unbothered, at least when he tries to drown James. They're just like, "That was scary. Anyway-", and hope he starts being normal soon. Oliver takes the blame for James murdering Richard because he's just so in love. Which, despite their sexual tension being fantastic, doesn't really seem believeable because they never demonstrate being in love. They demonstrate having confused, lustful feelings, sure - maybe close friendship if you squint? - but not passionate adoration. All fiction is the author playing with dolls, but this feels like the author is playing with dolls, bashing them around and mushing them together because that's what she wants them to do.

A nitpicky thing that shouldn't bother me, but absolutely did, was that this is an arts school that's incredibly prestigious and well-known for the high quality of its alumni and the shows put on by the students are really popular. That's all good, whatever. But this group of fourth-years - these people who have survived the culling of students that happens every academic year - because they can't stop harming each other or kissing each other or whatever when they're meant to be performing a play. And yeah, I know it's meant to be because they're so into their roles or whatever, but the lack of professionalism should have been trained out of them at that point, surely? I mean, you'd think the reputation of the university would at least be marred for some time after the second scandalous loss of control on the actors' part during a performance in half an academic year, but it's never mentioned. I'm not enough of a romantic for this, am I?

Even more insignificant nitpick: this school has no costume degree. There's a costumers' department, but who are they? Do they outsource them? Their set design is in-house, made by students studying set design, but the costumers are like the wallpaper - a given. Unless they're meant to be the art students? Ugh, art (assuming it's fine art, because it's never specified) and costume design are different enough disciplines, let alone costume making. That's a whole additional skillset.

Okay, back to a piece of criticism I have that's actually relevant. So, Meredith's sexy, right? And she and Oliver start sleeping togetherafter Richard's death. They're kind of dating, but it's not official official. All well and good. But then, when Oliver's had a hard time, James broke his nose because he got too passionate and angry during combat practice, he goes to Alexander for drugs (the way drugs play into this is another thing) to feel better, and Alexander rolls him a spliff spiked with regular painkillers (is that a thing?) and what is implied to be cocaine. Of course, Oliver smokes it and gets high - high to the point that he has no recollection of what happens shortly after he started smoking, and he sleeps for, like, 24 hours or something. He vaguely remembers Meredith taking him by the hand and leading him to her bed, and the next day, Filippa finds him in Meredith's bed and asks if he's naked. He says he thinks so, but he doesn't remember, haha! So basically, this man was so out of it he remembers nothing and Meredith proooobably raped him, and nobody cares. Even Oliver doesn't seem to see an issue with it. It was really out of leftfield and gross. Is it meant to be okay because they're dating, or because she's hot? Because it really isn't.

Honestly, the way women are written in general is a bit iffy. It's not like the men are especially fleshed out, but Oliver seems to see women as slightly strange, foreign creatures. It's one of those things where maybe that's how Rio thinks men see women, and she's trying to convey this as one of Oliver's flaws, but if so, it has so little bearing on the story in any way that it seems more like the author's bias than the character's. Women with eating disorders, confirmed or implied, are described oddly viciously.

I think the last thing that I'll mention is the inexplicable "gateway drug" story arc. Alexander smokes weed all the time and gives the other characters spliffs from time to time. I'm not exactly experienced when it comes to consuming intoxicating substances, particularly illegal ones, but even to me, the way it's spoken about is rather… quaint. Very "Teehee, Alexander's always a little stoned, but from time to time, even we partake in a little puff!". But then, out of nowhere, Alexander's on the cocaine! I mean, honestly, bunch of kids in a posh twat art school, I'm surprised they aren't all on the stuff. There's a little falling-out between Oliver and Alexander which just doesn't really go anywhere until Alexander gives him the spiked spliff, and then, later on again, overdoses on something. Was it deliberate? Was it an accident? We don't find out and nobody seems interested to know. It's just sort of put in there and then Alexander's like "No more illegal substances for me!" and that's the end of that. I suppose Alexander's drug storyline facilitates Oliver's equally narratively-unimportant rape, and, like Wren's mental breakdown (which also doesn't really go anywhere), shows that Alexander's not doing too well.

Yeeeeah! Good ending!!

I found the big battle in The Battle of the Labyrinth a bit disappointing, but that wasn't an issue at all in this book. The majority of it is the war between the Titans and Olympus and it goes hard.

There were a load of good character arcs in this. I'll admit, the Clarisse red herring got me - it seemed obvious that she'd be the spy. Narratively speaking, I'm glad I was tricked, but Silena?! I really wouldn't have expected it, but it made her reaction to Beckendorf's death so much more devastating. Luke clawing back control from Kronos over his body to kill himself was built up to nicely and I did feel some sympathy towards him. Some of his characterisation felt a bit too "he's evil because he is" and he really gained some humanity to me with the backstory we saw. It was adorable seeing Percy and Annabeth finally admit to themselves (and each other!) that they loved each other. I'm so happy for them.

Kind of sad, kind of relieved that Bessie had no important plot points revolving around him. I'd have hated to see him hurt, and at least we got a cameo from him, I suppose.

Overall, I think this series has a lovely overall message of accepting and loving people for their quirks - the demigods are all weirdos amongst mortals, and overall, it's stressed that people should learn to appreciate everyone regardless of if they're odd, or seemingly don't bring anything of importance, or whatever, because unity matters far more and everyone has a part to play. Speaking of, I'm so proud of Nico and how far he's come since we first met him, and glad that Hades is allowed back in Olympus!