Anti-Fascist Book Club: January
February is just about here and I have Vaclav Havel’s Open Letters on hold at the library, which means it’s time to reflect a little bit on what I read this month.
The book I chose to read in January, Vonnegut’s Mother Night, was such an easy read that it only took me a few hours. Bleak but absurdly funny, it’s hard to condense into a summary that makes any sense. Just trust me: it’s a fantastic, bitter, insightful little book. And if you have any anxiety at all about ‘alternative facts’ or ‘fake news’ or how to tell if Trump is secretly playing a master game of nine-dimensional chess that none of us understands properly — read it. It won’t make you feel better, but then it’s not trying to. It’ll make you wiser, which is uncomfortable but necessary.
Another book I read this month that ended up being inspirational: Cory Doctorow’s Little Brother. I’m a little intimidated by the technical aspects of digital privacy and security; I know enough to mostly follow explanations of cryptography but not enough to feel like I can even ask very insightful questions about what I learn, which is an uncomfortable place for me to be in. This book is YA, and all the crypto and technical stuff in it is geared toward fifteen-year-olds, and still I felt like I couldn’t quite follow it well enough to form my own ideas about the concepts. But! I did learn things, and it’s a rollicking fun read, and the spirit of sassy teenager-ness is so inherently rebellious that I felt like just reading a YA book about teenagers revolting against the system was enough to light up my soul. Strongly recommend it; like Mother Night, it’s a fast read, and, bonus, you can get a copy of the ebook for free from Doctorow’s own website because he doesn’t believe in (most) copyright law.
The third book I read this month that felt revolutionary was Jacqueline Carey’s Santa Olivia. Carey is well-known for her epic fantasy series, but this little stand-alone is a near-future dystopia. I’d read it once several years ago and picked it up again mostly for the nostalgia value; the main character is a lesbian, really well-written, and sometimes you just gotta read about queers. Anyway, once I finished it I realized that the reason I was so exhilarated about it is that it’s absurdly appropriate, almost quasi-prophetic: in a near-future militarized border zone on the US side of a US-Mexico border wall, the building of which was justified by fear of refugees, a (queer, neuro-atypical, mixed-race, brown) girl learns to box and punches her way through the oppressive occupying military to freedom.
If you like any incarnation of Batman, or if at any point in the last few months you’ve felt like what you really wanted to be doing was hitting things until they crumbled, you should read this book. And then maybe find a gym with a mirror and a heavy bag where you can shadow box until you’ve got good form and then actually punch things until your knuckles bleed. Take it from me, both of these things will make you feel better.
