2016 reads

• Slade House by David Mitchell
• Mickey by Chelsea Martin
• After Atlas by Emma Newman
• Cyanide Milkshake 8 by Liz Suburbia
• Laid Waste by Julia Gfrörer
• My Pretty Vampire 1 and 2 by Katie Skelly
• Libby's Dad by Eleanor Davis
• We All Wish For Deadly Force by Leela Corman
• Summerland by Paloma Dawkins
• Travelogue by Aatmaja Pandya
• Nicolas by Pascal Girard, Helge Dascher (Translator)
• nevers by Megan Martin
• In the Time of the Blue Ball By Manuela Draeger
• Ghost by Whit Taylor
• In Situ no. 3 & 4 by Sophie Yanow
• Bluets by Maggie Nelson
• All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders
• Dumb 1+2 by Georgia Webber
• Future Shock 0 edited by Josh Burggraf
• Guillotine #10: Kat Howard/Sofia Samatar
• Planetfall by Emme Newman

Libby's Dad by Eleanor Davis

Recently I've had a lot of chances to experience shitty cable. Between traveling and "getting away" and tagging along, I've been watching a lot of Forensic Files. Overall this hasn't been so great for my peace of mind, but it has been a deep dive into the terrible things people do to one another, especially the terrible things men do to women. I've been marinating in not only death, but in should-have-knowns and we-never-thoughts, and it was in this state of mind I picked up Libby's Dad.

Libby's Dad is set at a slumber party at the titular characters home. Snatches of the young party-goers conversation drive the story, as well as the thoughts of Alex, a big-eyed, pig-tailed girl, the youngest invited to the birthday. This framing is what makes Libby's Dad so powerful and chilling.

The girls discuss Libby's parents' divorce, trying to come to grips with what they've overheard about violence in the relationship in the face of the fun slumber party stuff they are experiencing in the moment. Weaving in anecdotes of seeing Libby's mom around town being sad about the end of a relationship and other life stuff,  half-heard parental judgement, and an unquestioned belief in the justice system, the girls reassure one another that they are safe and that Libby's dad is no monster. The girls think what is easiest to think, that Libby's mom is crazy, rather than that her dad is dangerous. The child's POV shows plainly and with force that the simple story is usually the reasoning of a child. We know what nasties go on in adult relationships. We know that a person can be "like, super nice" to children and terrible to their partners. We know victims are often doubly victimized by having their behavior and life picked over in public. We know that adulthood offers may opportunities to cry in public, whether you're "crazy" or not.

We know.

We know, so we should know better. We know, and there is heartbreak in knowing that likely each  of those girls will know too, more sooner than later.

And, of course, it's beautiful. I've always loved Davis's botanicals and they, as well as her boisterous color sense, are out in full force in Libby's Dad. Her use of colored pencil is perfect here, and makes the whole story a little more sinister for me. Pick it up now.

Nicolas by Pascal Girard, translated by Helge Dascher

Missing my brother today & thinking of all the pasts I've had.
From Pascal Girard's Nicolas: pic.twitter.com/Of9c4sr1nF

— Carrie (@carrietryharder) July 11, 2016

After years of cramming books in wherever they fit, I finally decided to redo my bookshelves. This has led to some intense re-reading, and in some cases, reading that had been left undone. Nicolas is one of those books I couldn't not buy, but also couldn't read the past several years.

 Nicolas is an autobiographical comic about the author's brother dying when they were both children. Told in flashes, almost like scrolling through the lowlights reel of grief, this short book cut right to what the legacy of a loss does to a person and their relationships. Girard's style is like a looser, sketchier Jeffrey Brown with some John Porcellino thrown in, which works well to express extreme feelings with humor.

Despite feeling incredible familiarity with the trials of Pascal, Girard's work is refreshing. It shows so simply how the absurdity of such a loss makes you weird (and in what ways). I love how Girard gets into how the fear it instills is not easily navigated, and how it changes as you get older, with emphasis on being a jerk in bars and hurting the people who love you romantically because you know that "it" doesn't only happen to other people. The tension between trying to remember your lost sibling and living your own life is also explored here, most especially on the page where a young Pascal asks his mother if he can sled at a friend's and his mother responds, in what I can only imagine is a distant voice: "Did you realize that Nicolas would have been eight years old today?" That sense of being snapped out of the present over and over is so particular and peculiar--glad that Girard included it.

my breath caught

After reading Nicolas, I felt less alone, which is perhaps the highest compliment possible. If you have someone in your life that's lost a sibling, get this book. I hope it helps you understand them better.

Link to the new expanded hardcover here.

bedtime stack

What's getting me to sleep these days:

Bad Habits by Cristy C. Road
This Is Not It by Lynne Tillman
In The Time of the Blue Ball by Manuela Draeger