2018 Favourite Books

I am SO BAD at year-end lists. I don't think I've ever actually managed to scrape one together! So, here we go. Having tucked away over 100 books in the last year, you'd think I have some standouts, right? Right! But I'm bad at ranking things, so, in no particular order (besides #1):

1) A Wrinkle in Time, Madeline L'Engle

Whatever, friendos, I still blame every single one of you that didn't tell 5th-grade me to read this. This gap in my oeuvre is entirely other people's fault, clearly. (This is also very much my #1 read of the year.)

2) The Wayfarers Trilogy (The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet; A Closed and Common Orbit),  Becky Chambers

Probably my favourite "grownup" read of the year. Definitely the one I want to tell all of you to read, so I have other people to talk with about it. I liked it because it has bits of all my favourite things about speculative fiction: good flow and pacing to the writing, accessible diction that's space-y without being hard SF, excellent world building, excruciating detail in to those worlds, breaking down present-day social barriers by playing with the possibilities of social constructs. This book is home to one of the single stickiest things I read all year, in the Aandrisks and how they construct family units (and specifically, how they confer 'personhood' upon their younglings.) I devoured the sequel and am excited to see what else Chambers will put out.

3) Omnia, Laura Gallego García

What's this two-star rated book doing in my year-end list?? I may not have liked the writing in Omnia (though to be fair, it probably suffers more than a bit from lost-in-translation), but there was something captivating in this take on an intergalactic (maybe even inter-dimensional?) Amazon-like company, and it was easily one of my most talked about books of 2018. Appropriately, this is only available via Amazon Kindle.

4) Octavia's Brood, edited by Adrienne Maree Brown and Walidah Imarisha

I checked this book out from the library roughly 10 times this year, and is the only library book that I had to turn in to a purchase. Octavia's Brood is a collection of POC speculative fiction, inspired by Octavia Butler, written by authors, community leaders, social justice activists, and more. Every story is speculative, but not every story is told by a SFF writer, and that's what makes it fascinating. It's more like a conversation with a bunch of people who have ideas of what the future could be. Not every story is a home run, but the entirety of this collection is deeply satisfying.

5) The Grishaverse (Shadow and Bone, Siege and Storm, Ruin and Rising), Leigh Bardugo


6) The Forgetting, Sharon Cameron

Who loves a fully fleshed out world rooted in the absence of memory, even if the characters are silly and some of the prose is clunky? I do, I do! The Forgetting is here for all of your "I sure do wish The Giver had a female narrator instead" needs.

7) Trashed, Derf Backderf

Definitely the best comic about municipal waste I've ever read. Also features some cute trash pandas on p.237.

8) Dept. H, Matt & Sharlene Kindt

What's sort of a stock-standard Matt Kindt story (science, intrigue, weird shit, murder) is brought to life by the phenomenal colorwork of his wife, Sharlene Kindt. I don't know where Matt has been hiding her all these years, but I am super fucking excited to see more of her work.


9) Being Human, William Wegman


This retrospective of Wegman's work is a standout not only for the art, but for the interviews and essays included about his process and work with his doggo-collaborators. I never gave much thought to Wegman's photos over the years, but seeing them collected, learning about his process, and finally realizing the breadth and depth of what he's been doing for the last forty years was delightful.

10) Warcross, Marie Lu


I struggled with picking a 10th standout read for 2018. I hate-read a lot of books, so a lot of things that I spent a lot of time yelling about really don't belong on a list like this. I read a lot of interesting, but not particularly engaging, novels - stuff I'd recommend to people who were specifically interested, but that I didn't feel a particular connection to. And then there's Warcross, which, honestly, I didn't even really like, but it's the sort of novel that I want there to be more of. Y'see, Warcross is the book that, by every measure, Ready Player One should have been. At least, if we didn't live in a cis-het patriarchy that favored the needs and pleasures and even retro kitsch of boring white guys over literally anyone else at all. Warcross isn't for me. But it's absolutely for every teenage gamer that doesn't identify as a white guy, who is interested in video games for what they are and what they can be, and who appreciates source material as reference, not as substance. It's not an eye-opening, world-melting novel, by any means. It's just... it's fine. It's fine in a way that female written, female fronted books don't ever get to just be fine, because they're always carrying the entire weight of an entire genre-type in their rarity. And I want there to be more of that. I want more representation in SFF, in YA: better archetypes, better heroes, even better villains; and the only way we're going to get that is if we have more diversity, more voices, more ideas. So bring on more Marie Lus, more Warcrosses. Let's open this pit up.

Honorable Mentions:
The Power, Naomi Alderman
Vox, Christina Dalcher
Ms. Marvel, G. Willow Wilson

2018 Books in Review

I never do year-end wrap up lists, but I'm trying to be accountable, even just to myself. So here we are! (I use GoodReads to track this, otherwise I'd never remember anything. Even using a tracking tool like this, I'm absolutely positive that I've missed things. Sorry, year end data, you fall vicitim to my bad memory, just like everything else.)

Contented generated by GoodReads

105 books read

26,741 pages

My shortest and longest books don't really mean anything, as the aggregate data that gets me to 254pp per books is ultimately corrupted by my love of graphic novels (41% of my total books were graphic novels), which are sort of a fundamentally bogus page count. GoodReads also counts my DNF (Did Not Finish) books as fully read, which, on the other hand, may even things out. (I DNF'd 8 books this year, or wholly 7% of my total reads! Including, for the first time to the best of my recollection, a graphic novel!)

It also doesn't count any stray short stories I almost certainly consumed, whether online, via e-reader, or in pieces through collections that I couldn't in good faith mark as "read".

Based on this, you might think that I was reading (or quitting) two books a week. In reality, I read in enormous spurts. I'll grind through an entire series in a week, then maybe not touch any books for a month.  This is also why I tend to wait until a series is a completed until I read it, I have zero patience in waiting for "the next one." (I mistakenly picked up Neil Shusterman's Scythe this year, thinking it was a standalone novel. Now Thunderhead was one of my most enjoyed books of the year, and I am livid that he dare do anything at all besides finish up that threequel for me.)

78 of these books were library books, which means that I only read 25 books from my personal collection. On its face, that seems inaccurate, but I couldn't tell you which books in my library I should be adding to this total, so it stands.

Of course, I did make a resolution at the beginning of this year to use the library more, so good job, me! (And let's be honest, I bet even some of those 25 books personal collection books probably came from a library's discard pile or used book sale. SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL SOCIALIST BOOK REPOSITORY.) In doing so, I saved myself approximately $1479.77, if you're going to believe my own math on how much I would have paid retail (or nearly retail) on all of the books I got from the library.

What would I change for next year? I'd like to be better bout quitting books that I don't enjoy. I got a little better at it this year, but I still had a lot of things that I could have quit, or quit earlier, and saved myself some time. This includes shaking my tendencies towards being a completionist, even after it's apparent that I'm no longer enjoying the series. (I see you, DMZ.)

Next year, I think my challenge will really be to read down my own personal library. I think completing one bookshelf book for every library book is a reasonable ask of myself. (And, really, the only way to insure that I don't die as one of those creepy Ripley's Believe It or Not stories, buried by my own hobby.)

Other Factoids:
<1% of my books were art books. I would like to change that in 2019!
10% of my books would be considered "YA" fiction.
15% of my books were "children's" literature. This is actually surprisingly low, I feel like I usually consume much more YA/kid lit than that! (This also ignores overlap between graphic novels and YA/kid lit.)
38% were written by women (though many graphic novels had female illustrators/colorists/letterers, it's just too difficult to doublecheck all of that while I'm running these loose numbers. Go read Dept H and enjoy Sharlene Kindt's incredible colors!).

Did you crunch any numbers on your hobby this year? Miles flown, Pokemons caught, VHS tapes melted? Let me know!

World Suicide Prevention Day: How To Care for Your Stiricide

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day (Suicide Awareness Day, if you're the internet), and as all my social media feeds flood with helpful-but-frustratingly-generic tips for how you can help someone who is depressed, I can't help but think: who is this actually helping? And how is this helping them?

Because the thing is, unless you're up close and personal with someone, it can be pretty hard to tell the difference between "kinda sad" and "sitting in a bathtub wondering what else you can use that razor blade for." It can be hard to know when you need to reach out - and even harder to know what form that reaching should take.

For me, if I'm functioning through my depression, no one else will notice it. Because for as much as I hurt, I don't want to be a burden on anyone else in my life.

The LAST thing I ever want when I'm at the bottom of my own personal pit, is for anyone to tell me "It'll be ok." "You're strong, you'll get through this." Or my favourite, eternally, from my mother, "Did you take your meds today?" I have been through this before. I don't need you to offer me platitudes or patronize me. I don't need suggestions based in cool rationality, or reassurances that are foreign to the point of impossible. (I live with depression. It will never be "ok." It will, sometimes, be somewhere between slightly and significantly less shitty. But it will never be "ok.")

When I'm sinking to the bottom, the last thing I want is platitudes, or unattainable hope, or obvious yet impossible advice. All I want is a single thing to momentarily distract me from the bottomless abyss that I'm still trying to find the end of. Not a life changing epiphany or a new raison d'être. Not a phone number to call that will require an enormous amount of emotional energy that I do not currently possess. All I want is a fucking lifeline*. A tiny thing that I can momentarily glom on to - that will, with any luck, lead to another tiny thing, and then another tiny thing. (Eventually, all these very tiny things will gradually lead me out of the waters.) 

Do you want to actually help your maybe possibly too depressed to function friend? Take a deep, scary look at who your friend is and how they function on the regular. Prepare yourself for possible and likely inevitable rejection. Don't get offended when that happens. Try not to offer them help in a form that they wouldn't appreciate when they're at "normal" - they'll appreciate it even less when they're in the hole.

But if you want specifics, I'm not sure if I can give them to you. Every person is different, and everyone has their own lifelines. If that friend is me, though, here's a short list of what you can do:

- Send me pictures of otters.

Ohhai there.

In fact, you should do this whether or not you think I'm in the hole. Spontaneous otters are code for "I'm thinking about you. I like you. I hope you're well."

But seriously, "Otter Day" is my public access code for "things are no good, ship has been abandoned." It is both a cue to send me a lifeline (pictures of otters are just one), as well as a heads up that things are, well, not ok. Saying "I am not ok, I need help" - literally, in those words (which seem to be the only words that people think have any validity when talking about these things) - never stops being terrifying and next to impossible. So I have code words.

Otter Day.

That's what that means.

- Invite me out to take a walk.

Somewhere safe, nearby, and normal. Somewhere inside my comfort zone.

Not a hike, not to go dancing, not to have coffee. I can't handle extended human interaction, I'm ashamed to show my face in public. I can't handle a challenge. But I can put on some pants and walk around the block with someone I trust. Though the pants part may take some cajoling.

- Show up, uninvited, bearing food that I will eat.

I may be able to shove a Wheat Thin in my mouth,
but I will not be able to make myself an actual meal.

When I'm in my hole, I lose my appetite. I'm too tired too cook, then I'm too sad to cook, then I'm too disappointed in myself to even try. If you haven't seen me in a few days and suspect that I may be sinking, feed me. Probably protein.

But what if you have a friend that isn't me? The only thing I can tell you is, be their friend. Don't assume that the things that work for you to get out a minor funk (or for me to get out of a major one) will necessarily work for them.

Don't treat them like they're an idiot, or like you know how to fix this better than they do. (I can't tell you how many times I've had people suggest that I exercise/take a bath/watch a fun movie/get laid. Just because something is the right answer for you doesn't make it a universal truth. Also, if it's that obvious, your depressed friend has probably already thought of it. 'Cause they're smart, right? Isn't that why you're friends?) Think about who they are, and how they are, and do what you can do to be good to them, in a way that they would appreciate.

Keep trying. Be the best lifeline you can be.

*Of course, if this is the first time, or if it just feels like the first time, they've been down this road, be supportive. Let them know that there are options for them. And help them find out what those options are. Odds are, they don't know what their health plan will cover, or who to call to find out, or even how to set up an appointment with a therapist. If depression comes with a side of anxiety and phone-phobia the way it does for me, they may not even be able to make those calls. If you want to come to the table with advice or options, makes sure you know as much as possible, and have taken as much of the legwork out of things as you can. YMMV, of course, but information and preparedness is always my favourite.

If A, Then Fall Down.

Cleaning my skates isn't hard, or scary, it's just an exercise in patience coupled with my OCD-tendencies and utter terror of botching something up. I'll spare you the how-to of bearing maintenance (though it appeared on my facebook page last night at a friend's request), as my fears lie in the details.

What if I bend a bearing cover. What if there's still dirt in there and the bearing locks up and I die. What if there isn't enough lube and the bearing locks up and I die. What if there's water in the bearing and it rusts then locks up and I die. What if I snap something on the cage (the thing that holds the individual balls in place) and the bearings fall out and my wheel falls off and I die. And so on.

Granted, all this is relatively pointless, since the ACTUAL consequence of any of these worst case scenarios is pretty easy: If A (where A is the catastrophic ruination of any part of my skate while skating), I fall down (I am the best faller on the team, I have NO fear of falling), do situps for the rest of practice, and buy new parts.

All that said, it took me four hours to fully clean my skates last night, since my bearings had to go through four acetone washes before I was convinced that they were all clean enough to be reassembled.

Shiny and clean!

The interesting thing happened when I went to clean my wheels. (Lucky, there is nothing scary about cleaning wheels. Rinse 'em off and you're done.)

The first time I took my wheels off my skates was also the first time I had them regrooved. After about a year of skating, they'd all been worn bald, and I was sliding all over the track. Theoretically, people told me, you can tell how you're skating based on how worn down your wheels are, and where. Inside wheels wear faster than outside wheels, since that's where you should be putting the most pressure. They also wear at a slight angle, because of crossover. Because of this, you should rotate your wheels regularly.

But my wheels were all uniform. I took this to mean that basically, I sucked.

This time, though, as I was swishing my skinny new Stalkers around in soapy water, I realized that they actually felt different. As I took them out and looked at them - yup. Sure enough, some of the grooves are more worn down than the others. And it's pretty evenly divided, 4 and 4. So, inside wheels and outside wheels. Which means that since starting roller derby (and changing to new wheels that don't suck and actually allow me to T-stop and are ohmygod amazing), I've legitimately become a better, stronger skater. Whaaaaaaat??

I shudder to think that I might actually be, y'know, learning anything in roller derby besides how to skate fast and get low, but there it is. If I keep doing a thing, eventually I will get better at that thing. And eventually that thing will have noticeable results. It's terrifying. And inspiring. And I just said inspiring.

All cleaned up and ready to roll.