As has become traditional (see 2014, 2013, 2012), here are some recommendations from folks at this year’s Barry Goldblatt Literary retreat. And even though the post is called book recommendations, there are also things that aren’t books.
I always enjoy finding the link for each thing; book trailers, author sites, publisher pages, reviews, interviews. One of the links below is to a glowing review that also contains adorable photos and a brownie recipe. (And now you’ll click them all, won’t you?)
In no particular order:
Yes Please, particularly the audiobook, by Amy Poehler
Young Elites, Marie Lu
Wolfie the Bunny by Ame Dyckman and Zachariah OHora
I Don’t Like Koala by Sean Ferrell and Charles Santoso
The Fantastic Jungles of Henri Rousseau by Michelle Markel and Amanda Hall
The Iridescence of Birds by Patricia MacLachlan and Hadley Hooper
Circus Mirandus by Cassie Beasley
Station 11 by Emily St. John Mandel
Armand Gamache mysteries by Louise Penny
The Walls Around Us by Nova Ren Suma
All the Rage by Courtney Summers
Bone Gap by Laura Ruby
Greenglass House by Kate Milford
Salvage by Alexandra Duncan
Glory O’Brien’s History of the Future by A.S. King
Uprooted by Naomi Novak
His Fair Assassin series by Robin LaFevers
The Thing About Jellyfish by Ali Benjamin
The Sixth Gun by Cullen Bunn and Brian Hurtt
Unbeatable Squirrel Girl by Ryan North and Erica Henderson
Nimona by Noelle Stevenson
Journey by Aaron Becker
Locomotive by Brian Floca
The Adventures of Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight by Tony DiTerlizzi
Southern Reach trilogy [aka Area X] by Jeff VanderMeer
The Vorrh by Brian Catling
Saga by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples
Float by Daniel Miyares
Sidewalk Flowers by JonArno Lawson and Sydney Smith
The Bear Ate Your Sandwich by Julia Sarcone-Roach
Crazy Horse’s Girlfriend by Erika T. Wurth
Written in the Stars by Aisha Saeed
Counting Crows by Kathi Appelt & Rob Dunleavy
The Jumbies by Tracey Batiste
Roller Girl by Victoria Jamieson
El Deafo by Cece Bell
Elvis and the Underdogs by Jenny Lee
The Detective’s Assistant by Kate Hannigan
Unusual Chickens for the Exceptional Poultry Farmer by Kelly Jones
The Truth About Twinkie Pie by Kat Yeh
Boy, Snow, Bird by Helen Oyeyemi
The Carnival at Bray by Jessie Ann Foley
The Princess in Black by Shannon Hale, Dean Hale and LeUyen Pham
The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black
Show and Prove by Sofia Quintero
Supermutant Magic Academy by Jillian Tamaki
Pretty Deadly by Kelly Sue DeConnick and Emma Rios
ODY-C by Matt Fraction and Christian Ward
Last Stop on Market Street by Matt de la Peña and Christian Robinson
The Princess and the Pony by Kate Beaton
Shadowshaper by Daniel José Older
Cuckoo Song by Frances Hardinge
The House of Shattered Wings by Aliette de Bodard
Courtney Barnett, “Pedestrian at Best”
The Girl With All the Gifts by M. R. Carey
Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold: the history of a lesbian community by Elizabeth Lapovsky Kennedy and Madeline D. Davis
Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland
We managed to cover a lot in a short amount of time! Including but not limited to:
- the importance of in-person as well as online communities for creators from marginalized groups
- in framing the conversation about a book, comic, etc., how it’s equally important to highlight a work’s diverse qualities and to not relegate it to only being discussed in the context of those qualities
- how alienating it is to grow up never seeing characters or creators who reflect your culture and experiences
- how when you’re trying to create characters outside your own culture and experiences, research and respect are key
We also mentioned a lot of specific resources! Also including but not limited to:
Voices At VONA, a multigenre writing workshop for people of color
Lambda Literary Emerging LGBTQ Voices writers retreat
Writing The Other by Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward
Thanks to all who came to the panel, and I’m happy to update this post with more info & links I’ve forgotten in post-con exhaustion!
So, I do intend to write about my experience as the Genre Fiction instructor for the Lambda Literary Retreat for Emerging LGBTQ Voices, which was amazing, and not just because of this delightful coffee mug:
But now I want to tell you what I’m doing at Comic-Con!
I’m a Featured Guest, I’ll be at II-10 in Artist’s Alley and I’m on two panels:
Historical Comics and Graphic Novels: Thursday, July 9th, 1 PM
Not all comics are about superheroes. In fact, there are some amazing graphic novels, comics and web comics that deal with events from history. Some are personal stories, some are historical accounts and some are the creator’s own take, but they all bring history alive. Creators Peter Bagge (Hate, Woman Rebel: The Margaret Sanger Story), Ed Piskor (Hip-Hop Family Tree), Matt Phelan (The Storm in the Barn), Sara Ryan (Escape From Alcatraz), and Lora Innes (The Dreamer), discuss their historical works with moderator Douglas Wolk (Reading Comics).
Normalizing Publishing: Sunday, July 12th, noon
I’m looking forward to both of them, but I’m particularly excited about the second one. See, as a guest, I get a “spotlight panel”, which means that basically I can do whatever I want for fifty minutes.
I decided what I wanted was to share the stage with smart interesting people and talk about stuff that matters.
See you in San Diego!
Journal excerpt, 1991:
I got into Clarion. It’s a highly intensive writing workshop for writers of sf and fantasy.
Has me scared shitless.
Five Reasons I Was Scared Shitless (An Incomplete List)
1. Even though it was only an hour away from where I lived, it would be the longest I’d been away from home. I didn’t know how my absence would affect my relationships.
2. I didn’t know any of the other students. What if they didn’t like me?
3. I didn’t know what the instructors would expect. What if they didn’t like me?
4. I desperately, desperately wanted to be a writer. What if they didn’t think I could be a writer? What would happen to my identity?
5. And speaking of my identity: I’d only recently begun to understand that I was queer. How would others react if I came out? Should I come out? How would I feel if I didn’t? How would I feel if I did?
…I wanted to remind myself what it was like to be just about to be a student at an intensive writing workshop, because now I’m just about to be an instructor at one: the Genre workshop at the Lambda Literary Retreat for Emerging LGBTQ Voices.
Here are a few excerpts from the notes I took in 1991. (Yes, I still have the notebook.)
From a Tim Powers talk:
writing is WORK and CONSTRUCTION don’t confuse MOTION and MOVEMENT with action
What another student wanted to see in one of my stories:
more mayhem!! ever-increasing mayhem!!
From an Ellen Kushner talk:
SENSUALITY: I CAN USE THIS — especially pain, strong emotion, petty emotion…
Note to myself with an idea for a story I did not end up writing for reasons that may rapidly become apparent:
story, what happens to your brain when you’re fatigued
A reality check from Karen Joy Fowler:
Karen says: no agent til novel LEARN TO LIVE WITHOUT REASSURANCE
And another one from Kate Wilhelm and Damon Knight. I think I can call myself a case in point:
SURVIVAL OF THE PERSISTENT
When you’re dealing with difficult things but they’re the same difficult things you’ve been dealing with for years, and you sort of want to talk about them but you’re also tired of hearing yourself talk about them, and you send a few messages, start and delete several others, and go to a movie alone and step out afterwards into a big Midwestern parking lot and the moment before the distraction provided by the film dissipates, you hold your phone up to the sky.
I’m a compulsive reader. I’m less consistently engaged by movies and television, but there are certainly any number of films and shows I love. Over the past several years, though, I’ve become increasingly aware that there’s an entire type of narrative with which I haven’t been able to connect.
I glean things from time to time — for instance I understand, vaguely, that many folks in my social circle play, love, critique, passionately discuss, create fan art for, and are otherwise engaged with games like Bioshock, Mass Effect, and Dragon Age.
But by and large, I’ve never found games fun.
Back in the dark ages, my fervent enjoyment of Ms. Pac-Man (as much for its name as for the gameplay) always coexisted with anxiety and frustration (whether due to inadequate hand-eye coordination or lack of quarters).
More recently, playing games, like reading some mainstream comics, has seemed more like work than entertainment, requiring Talmudic-level knowledge of creators, techniques and game mechanics. Or I’ve thought playing games would be like middle school gym class, where I knew I’d struggle with activities that others found simple, intuitive, enjoyable.
Turns out I hadn’t found the right game.
I wouldn’t have found it, either, if it hadn’t been for Carmen Maria Machado‘s thoughtful appreciation in the L.A. Review of Books, “Why Alice Munro Should Play ‘Gone Home‘: The Video Game As Story And Experience.” I bought Gone Home immediately after reading Machado’s piece, and played Gone Home, with only a few pauses, for the next several hours.
Anyone with more of a connection to the world of indie games than I have is, no doubt, not surprised. The game has been out since 2013. It’s won a lot of awards.
And anyone who knows me IRL will also not be surprised that the game with which I connected so strongly:
- is set in the Pacific Northwest
- involves exploring a big weird house and a family’s left-behind possessions & ephemera
- includes multiple characters’ writing in various genres (postcards, letters, passed notes, genre fiction, zines) and
- (spoiler alert) involves a queer girl romance.
But even more than my delight in all the elements that felt tailor-made to delight me, what I appreciate most about Gone Home is how it subverts ideas about what even constitutes a story.
Received ideas about narrative are hard to escape. Conflict is everything. Raise the stakes. What does your protagonist want? What’s in the way of her getting it? What’s the through-line? What’s her arc? Who’s the Big Bad? Make it hurt!
Gone Home’s storytelling doesn’t work like that. You extrapolate from fragments. Relationships reveal themselves to you gradually. You discover that the Greenbriar family home, the “Psycho House,” both is and is not what it seems. And if an antagonist even exists, it’s, perhaps, simply the emotional and physical distance between the characters.
The Alice Munro quote about stories considered as houses that Machado includes in her piece about Gone Home is certainly apt (go read it if you haven’t already). I thought of another, a favorite passage from Ursula Le Guin’s essay “The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction”:
So, when I came to writing science-fiction novels, I came lugging this great heavy bag of stuff, my carrier bag full of wimps and klutzes, and tiny grains of things smaller than a mustard seed, and intricately woven nets which when laboriously unknotted are seen to contain one blue pebble, an imperturbably functioning chronometer telling the time on another world, and a mouse’s skull; full of beginnings without ends, of initiations, of losses, of transformations and translations, and far more tricks than conflicts, far fewer triumphs than snares and delusions; full of space ships that get stuck, missions that fail, and people who don’t understand.
There are a lot of stories inside the carrier bag of Gone Home’s house. And like Le Guin’s essay, they remind me that the ‘narrative trajectory’ is only one way to think about what stories are, or can be.
I am incapable of taking the train without also taking photos out the window while it’s in motion.
Emerald City was terrific as usual. Highlights this year, aside from lovely interactions across the table, included the excellent meetup organized by Marissa Louise, various smaller-scale gatherings with old and new friends, and that curious con phenomenon where you manage to catch up with folks who live in the same city as you, yet whom you somehow never see while you’re at home.
Is there anything more relevant to the interests of a YA author than an evening of hearing teenagers tell stories about risk?
PDX Cocoon: stories by Portland youth is brand new; last night was the first performance. Lead producer Nico Hamacher set the tone by warning the audience that there would be ‘profanity and questionable decisionmaking’ in the stories; that got a big laugh, and was an entirely accurate description.
What I appreciated most was the range of risks represented in the stories: from moving to a new country alone to sneaking out at night with friends, from near-death experiences to going in for a first kiss.
Definitely looking forward to future PDX Cocoon events.
1. Saw a friend recently, and he asked, “What’ve you been up to?” I paused, shrugged, and we both started laughing. He’s a writer too; we agreed that when you’re not necessarily wanting to talk in great detail about what you’re working on, you’re also not necessarily gonna be an outstanding conversationalist, because what you’re up to, basically, is writing.
2. But I’m also always reading and listening. I discovered the Nerdette podcast after seeing Tricia Bobeda on an excellent panel at ALA Midwinter and particularly enjoyed the recent episode featuring Scott McCloud.
4. I mentioned this elsewhere online but buried the lede, so let me try again: here is a picture of me at about age seven, dressed in a Wonder Woman costume that was homemade except for the mask.
The boots are rain boots, the gloves are dishwashing gloves, the belt buckle is made from a coffee can lid. I post this not just to demonstrate my mom’s cleverness at constructing this early cosplay, but as a way to announce that I wrote a story for Sensation Comics: Featuring Wonder Woman! It’s not out yet, but assuredly I’ll post about it again when it is. Christian Duce is doing the art. And I wish I could go back and tell my 90s Sandman-reading self that one day I’d have a story in a comic with a cover by Michael Zulli.
I used two tools to come up with a basic overview of what-I-did-in-2014: my calendar, and the bookkeeping program I use to track my freelance work. A bit reductionist, but they do serve to more or less document what I was up to.
Four university events in 2014:
Kapow! at Eastern Michigan University, a comics art exhibit and panel discussion; also a chance to see old friends who braved the ghastly weather.
Syracuse University’s student-organized Life Gets Better Together conference, where I was on the keynote panel about the cultural climate for LGBT folks and taught a writing workshop.
University of Michigan’s Kids Read Comics in the Classroom preconference, another panel! And another opportunity to see old friends, better weather this time.
At Western Oregon University, all by myself this time, talking about Bad Houses with Shaun Huston’s Cultural Geography class. Favorite student response: “Today Sara Ryan came in and she seems pretty kick ass … She has an awesome vibe and spoke about the process of making Bad Houses with great enthusiasm.”
I was a guest at three comic conventions: Emerald City, Wondercon, and the Rose City Comicon.
I was on yet another panel at YALSA’s Young Adult Literature Symposium, this one on YA Realness: what makes ‘contemporary YA’ feel true to readers? Also participated in the very exciting Book Blitz, where the above photo was taken.
And I taught a couple of workshops, one on comics writing, one with Rosanne Parry on writing with cultural responsiveness, at the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators Oregon conference. Also a writing workshop at the Ann Arbor District Library, and four comics writing workshops for teens at Columbus Metropolitan Library.
…but wait, did you actually write anything?
Yes I did: a more-than-usually-self-disclosing essay for an anthology, and a short comic featuring an extremely well-known character for another anthology. Neither has yet appeared but I will tell you when they do. And also other things, which are In Progress.
In 2015, so far I’m most looking forward to teaching at the Lambda Literary Foundation Retreat for Emerging LGBT Voices, being a special guest at the San Diego Comic-Con, and — needless to say — progressing on the things that are In Progress. Further bulletins as events warrant.