2023 - 2024

Non-English Poetry, Translation, and Quiddity's Newest Section! 

Posted March 25 by Julianna Reidell 

With a population of international students, a devoted Modern Languages Department, and a variety of study-abroad options, Arcadia is often associated with a particularly global education and experience. For the first time, Quiddity hopes to engage with that international spirit in a brand-new section of the magazine: poetry in translation! We’re looking for any type of poetry, so long as it’s written in a language other than English; our aim, after a typical evaluation process, is to publish accepted works alongside English translations. We’re hoping that any and all bilingual writers on campus will consider submitting — and to get that ball rolling and help generate thoughts about the process, I thought I’d take a little time to talk about my own experience with multilinguality, translation, and writing in a second language. 

First, to clarify: I’m a native English speaker. I’ve been studying French since I was 13 years old (8th grade in Middle School — a time otherwise best forgotten), but I’m still hesitant to call myself bilingual. And while I’ve definitely reached a level where spelling and grammar concerns are largely eclipsed by the work of learning, writing, and analyzing in French, the concept of translation still tends to throw me for a loop. The first time I encountered a French poem in college — “Poème Liminaire” by Léopold Sedar Senghor — I was totally unsure how to approach it. Was the best strategy for comprehension to translate the entire thing into English — or try to make sense of what I could understand in French, and look up words as necessary? When I took the problem to my professor, she recommended that I get as far as I could in French. This has remained my goal since: to translate individual words if needed, but to gradually work my way towards comprehending more-or-less entirely in French. It’s the same principle that I apply when I don’t know an exact word or phrase in French in conversation: if the term itself isn’t available, how can the same idea be described using words that I do know? While this can be a frustrating process, the truth is that I’ll never have the vocabulary of a native French speaker; forcing myself to think as much as possible in my second language, however, is one of the best ways to increase my confidence doing so and avoid having to rely so heavily on exact English translations. Thankfully for me, my professor, the wonderful Dr. Bonin, was also willing to help me work through that first poem. Gradually, as we discussed it — and identified any specific words or grammatical structures that had been confusing me — I was able to understand what Senghor was expressing, to the point that I analyzed that same poem as part of a final paper for that course. 

This experience was also one of the first times that I found myself able to appreciate the beauty of reading a piece in its original language. My appreciation — for the unique beauty of reading non-translated poetry, as well as the mammoth task translators undertake in trying to transfer that beauty into other languages — would only increase as I moved from reading French poetry into trying to write my own. In the summer of 2022, I spent five weeks at an intensive French program at Quebec City’s Université Laval. It was the longest time I’d passed surrounded by French speakers, and once I’d more-or-less gotten over the stumbling block of that fact that Quebecois French is very different from what I’d been taught in high school, I began to try expressing myself more and more in my second language. I’d written short French poems in high school; their translations were relatively simple, with few thematic or stylistic nuances to consider. In Quebec, however, I composed a poem that, for the first time, worked to play not only with meaning but with the sounds of the French language. I lean towards orality and rhythm in my English poetry as well — I typically think that my work sounds better read aloud than silent on a page — but this was the first time I’d been immersed enough in French to work towards the same idea.

 I read my finished poem aloud during the Laval experience, and received positive feedback. The trouble, however, arose when it came time to translate it into English. For the first time, I realized that a direct translation would weaken the piece. I could provide word-for-word in English what I’d written in French, but the sound — and with it, the emotions they evoked — couldn’t be replicated. Frustrated at my own translation attempts, I found my sympathy for — and admiration of — regular translators of poetry to have augmented significantly. I still readily read poetry-in-translation, of course — speaking only one language other than English, I don’t have much of a choice if I want to read globally — but I’m now more than ever cognizant of what can be lost when a piece is restructured to fit another language. This has informed my commitment to ensuring that, while pieces accepted to Quiddity will be translated so as not to inhibit the reading pleasure of monolingual students, the original language submissions will also appear. Our intention is to avoid privileging one language — or set of readers — over another. 

Finally, I want to stress something that, in my opinion, should be said more often in the poetry field: when it comes to poetry, simple doesn’t necessarily mean bad. As a writer (and reader) of poetry, I fear cliche far more than I fear simplicity. A poem doesn’t need to do 5-10 fancy things with language to evoke a sentiment or describe an image: if it can effectively do either of these things in a clear, simple, and original way, it’s just as powerful as, say, a sonnet or a villanelle. This is something to keep in mind when writing in any language, but I think it’s an especially important thing to stress if you’re considering writing in a second or third language for perhaps the first time. Léopold Senghor’s poem might have baffled me when I first encountered it as a freshman in college — but as a sophomore in high school, I was given another poem, by an equally celebrated Francophone poet, which evoked similar sentiments of anguish, albeit in very different contexts. The only difference was in its level of language. Here is Jacques Prévert’s “Dejeuner du matin” (literally “Lunch in the Morning”):  

Il a mis le café

Dans la tasse

Il a mis le lait

Dans la tasse de café

Il a mis le sucre

Dans le café au lait

Avec la petite cuiller

Il a tourné

Il a bu le café au lait

Et il a reposé la tasse

Sans me parler

Il a allumé

Une cigarette

Il a fait des ronds

Avec la fumée

Il a mis les cendres

Dans le cendrier

Sans me parler

Sans me regarder

Il s’est levé

Il a mis

Son chapeau sur sa tête

Il a mis

Son manteau de pluie

Parce qu’il pleuvait

Et il est parti

Sous la pluie

Sans une parole

Sans me regarder

Et moi j’ai pris

Ma tête dans ma main

Et j’ai pleuré. 

And in English: 

He put the coffee

In the cup

In put the milk

In the cup of coffee

He put the sugar

In the cafe au lait

With the little spoon

He stirred

He drank the coffee

And he set down the cup

Without speaking to me

He lit

A cigarette

He made rings

With the smoke

He put the ashes

In the ashtray

Without speaking to me

Without looking at me

He got up

He put

His hat on his head

He put

His raincoat on

Because it was raining

And he left

In the rain

Without a word

Without looking at me

And me I put my head in my hand

And I cried.

The literal objects being referenced here aren’t complicated. The vocabulary is relatively simple; students with a few units of French under their belt would likely only need a few words to be defined for them. But the mood the poem evokes — a stillness in which every tiny action becomes magnified, then the final despair of a parting — is rich and poignant. I hope that this example can serve as a reassurance for anyone hesitant to try writing in a language they might not be fully fluent in (Modern Language students, I’m looking at you!). Imagination, strong sentiment, and originality often count far more than particularly complex syntax. Don’t be afraid to try expressing yourself in a way you haven’t before. And to everyone considering submitting — we hope that this latest section of Quiddity helps you to feel as though all of your languages are welcomed and appreciated in Arcadia’s literary scene. Thank you for trusting us with your work — we can’t wait to see it! 

Jewelry, Names, Freckles - Inheriting Love and Culture in the 21st Century 

Posted March 25 by Haylie Jarnutowski

The first time I really thought about ancestry and its impact on identity was when I knew I was going to be visiting Scotland during a study abroad program at university. After this experience, I started to see glimpses of myself in histories and stories I acquired from family members, and as I learned more and more it became a liberating experience. I shall start at the beginning, on Celtic grounds in my freshman year. 

I always preferred gold to silver, but I needed something to bring home to remind me of the week I spent abroad. I spent a good few dollars (pounds?) on a little pendant on a silver chain, pulling it from the certification immediately and clasping it around my neck when I stepped out of the gift shop and into afternoon Edinburgh air. My favorite people flanked me on either side as we walked uphill toward our home for the week, the castle cresting on the mountain. We hadn’t wanted to leave that soil, but we couldn’t afford any more time on a student’s salary. 

A year later, after I had almost forgotten what it felt like to walk the cobblestone pattern of the Royal Mile, I sat across from my grandmother and sipped a cup of tea at a cafe. The necklace mindlessly caught the light of the chandelier, and she pointed to the pendant, noting the delicate swirls of a celtic knot upon my chest. I placed my mug of english breakfast back onto its saucer as she began to ask of me where I had acquired it. “Scotland, MomMom, remember? I went with my class.” She smiled and in her eyes I could see approval. “It looks like something your Great MomMom once had”. This piqued my interest, as I had spent most of my teen years collecting bits and pieces– typewriter poems, initial pins, hoop earrings– from the woman I had never gotten to meet. The tea in our mugs grew cold and the sugary sediment pooled in the porcelain as I listened to her stories, of the boisterous women and hardworking men who built up the Irish branch of my family tree, one too many generations ago for me to harvest their bountiful love. “I’d love to meet them,” I said. “They’ve all passed.” She told me. I squeezed her hand. 

My mother jigsawed my secondary name from my Great MomMom’s, giving me a piece of her to carry, as if the poet’s mind wasn’t enough. My grandmother calls and asks me about my classes and we, like always, dive into conversations of religion and the study of human belonging. She tells me about the disconnect of the Irish from the Catholic Church. I tell her that I’m glad her mother had brave eyes and soft hands. 

Since then, I have tried to incorporate my heritage into my life in small ways. I let my hair go back to its natural color and the red undertones it harbors. As the sun creeps out, the small dots on my nose deepen, like cinnamon. I wear earrings with my august peridot and small silver hands, the Claddagh, the symbol of devotion. Through music, stories, and symbols, I hope to continue the path toward my ancestry in a pursuit of a small piece of identity, one that I hope makes its way into my art. 

Remembering the Titans

Posted March 22 by Cole Gordon 

A film I've watched many times that sends an inspiring and powerful message is “Remember The Titans” by Jerry Bruckheimer. The film stars Denzel Washington who becomes the head football coach at a high school in Virginia. The year is 1971 and the school board was forced to integrate black and white students for the first time. This obviously was a switch up for the students and their summer training camp got off to a very rocky start. Racial tension was evident and there were fights everyday at practice. Eventually, the group began to unite and started to not see each other for skin color, but for the character in one another. This is mainly due to the example set by coach Boone (Denzel Washington) and coach Yoast (Will Patton). These two coaches were of opposite skin color but bonded through their commitment and work ethic. With the team's new found chemistry, they started to perform way better and went on to win a state championship going through segregated schools. It is a truly inspiring story and one of my personal favorite sports movies. The messages sent in the film hold so much meaning in the real world even today. It shows us that humans are equal and if we unite, great things can happen. The team surely wouldn't have won that state championship if they hadn’t seen past skin color and learned to love each other. This obviously doesn't just hold true to football, but many things in our everyday lives. The workplace, different sports, and group projects are other scenarios where this comes into effect. A person’s skin color should have zero meaning when it comes to judging character. It’s unfortunate to see even 25 years after this film came out that racial tension is still a big issue. On the flipside, I think we are moving in the right direction but still have a lot of work to do. I would highly recommend this movie to any sports fan or anyone that just wants to see a good movie in general. Denzel Washington is phenomenal and the movie is written brilliantly.    

The Ballad of Songbirds and Sympathizing with Villains

Posted March 4 by Abiageal Filon

Throughout my adolescence, I was heavily obsessed with The Hunger Games. I must have re-read the (at the time) three-book series at least a dozen times and rewatched the (once again, at the time) four-movie series even more. Growing up as a girl with big ideas, I felt seen and heard when I encountered the character of Katniss Everdeen. I, too, have a younger sister who I would do anything for, and I also want to overthrow my government (totally kidding. Maybe). Her storyline and how she interacts with and rises against President Coriolanus Snow made me feel nothing but hate for Snow.

Snow is everything I was and still am against, most significantly him being a tyrant. I never thought too deeply about his character; I only saw him as a static, unchanging man who behaves a certain way and does not plan to think in any other direction. I saw him as somebody born that way, with innate evil. Suzanne Collins, being the diabolical author she is, wrote a prequel to the series that focused entirely on President Snow’s childhood and teenage years. The book, entitled The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, was published in May 2020, and the movie adaptation was released in November 2023. This book and movie framed Snow in such a way that had myself and countless other viewers nearly sympathizing with him. Collins wrote his backstory very thoroughly. She went back through his entire history and explained everything that happened to him. For example, he lost his father when he was young; his biggest supporters are the Grandma’am and his cousin, Tigris, who are the only family he has; he’s a very smart student but is hated by Dean Highbottom because of his father stealing his drunken ideas and turning them into the annual Hunger Games… Many factors contribute to Snow’s personality and values, and Collins makes sure we see all of them.

The movie was so well done that I went and saw it in theatres three times within the initial week of release. I immersed myself in the Hunger Games universe once again like I did when I was 10 years old. Something about returning to my interests from my childhood is comforting and makes me feel safe and at home. Re-watching all the movies was like being greeted by old friends and family you haven’t seen in years, and immediately getting into conversation like you hadn’t spent a day apart. I quickly developed the same feeling about the movie adaptation of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes after viewing it three times in theatres, then twice at home after purchasing it on YouTube. Having watched it five times and being halfway through the 500+ page book, I began to develop a strange sense of sympathy for Snow. It’s almost like Stockholm Syndrome but I’m not the victim, I’m just watching his victims on-screen. 

For the rest of this blog post, I will be using the movie as my frame of reference, so fair warning for spoilers. Francis Lawrence, the director of the movie adaptations of Catching Fire, Mockingjay: Part One, and Mockingjay: Part Two, was brought back to direct The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, and as always he did a remarkable job. Collins co-wrote the screenplay and was an executive producer of the film, working closely with Lawrence and plenty of other talented co-writers and co-producers. The level to which they wrote and produced this film does so much justice to Snow’s character.

Watching him as a young child facing war and famine and then venturing into his adolescence without both of his parents as guides, I could not help but feel pity for him. Many shots include closeups of Snow which allow us to have intimate moments with him, reading his expressions and searching for his thoughts in his eyes. He is a highly intelligent student, causing his constituents to envy his smarts and ideas. Clemensia Dovecote even tries to claim his ideas for the addition to the games were hers, but she is quickly found out by Dr. Gaul, a professor at the academy and head gamemaker.

Snow, who is only ever seen onscreen when he is actively destroying Panem citizens’ lives, is shown to us in a new way. They show him proceeding through human experiences such as attending class, doing homework, developing a crush, sharing food, and being injured–all mundane things that we never expected to see him do because he’s a villain. Villains aren’t humans, right? They exist in a story to serve an evil purpose, to oppose everything the main character stands for. That’s the format Suzanne Collins followed in the original series, but in the newly-written prequel, she allows audiences to witness the humanity of a villain before he fully sets into his sinful ways. This human side of Snow we are shown left me with no choice but to like him, then become shocked when he shows his dark side. I was almost hurt when I was repeatedly reminded that he was still the bad guy. I wanted to like him, but in the end, a president who subjects his citizens to a yearly massacre of 24 children is somebody who no one should like. Collins truly succeeded in writing the perfect villain.

2023 SEPT-DEC

Let's Be Honest: Villains have the Most Fun

Posted October 29 by Allison Schmidt

It’s the season of the witch and all things spooky. In honor of Halloween, I decided to talk about some of the best villains in the history of the media. In my opinion, villains are much more fun to discuss and analyze than heroes. Heroes have one goal: to save the world, which they must do by staying inside the lines. Villains, on the other hand, are much more complex. They are unpredictable and realistic. So, I present to you who I think the top five villains are. 

1.  President Snow, The Ballad of SongBirds and Snakes and The Hunger Games

A friend of mine just finished reading The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. (That’s what gave me the idea to write this article.) This book is a prequel to The Hunger Games, and it’s about Snow’s rise to power. In this book, Snow is just 18 years old and the last hope to save his family from disgrace.  In order to save his family, he attends university and becomes a mentor to Lucy Gray for the tenth annual Hunger Games. Snow does everything he can to prove that he deserves all of what he has. But he is hanging on by a thread. The difference between right and wrong is slowly becoming nonexistent. However, we still feel bad for him. Suzanne Collins took some we truly hated in The Hunger Games and made us feel bad for him. We still hate him, but we understand him. That is what makes him such a good villain. 

2.   Bill Cipher, Gravity Falls 

Despite being a summer show, I’ve been rewatching Gravity Falls for Halloween. This show has such a great overarching plot. The reason is because of Bill Cipher. Bill is the main villain of Gravity Falls. He’s a demon from another dimension. He wants to be all-powerful and rule over two dimensions. Bill is smart and conniving. He is able to use people’s fears and wants against them. He knows how to play the game and does it well. His ways are unique and creative. His powers are god-like. He makes connections with people and then uses them. Bill isn’t afraid to get what he wants by all means necessary. Bill is also impressive because this is a Disney channel show. I wouldn’t expect a villain like Bill to be on Disney. Because of that and more, Bill made it on my list of the top five villains in the history of the media.

3.  Loki, Marvel Cinematic Universe 

This one is debatable. Technically, I think I would classify Loki as an anti-hero. That’s not stopping me from putting him on this list. He’s just too good not to be on here. Season two of Loki is out now and I have been watching every episode. Loki is the god of mischief. When he first made his appearance in the MCU, he was pure evil and a villain. He took out all his anger and chaos on the city of New York. A lot has changed since then. Loki changed. He’s not the same person he once was.  He learned to care for his family and friends. He found a purpose and a reason to fight. He’s not afraid to use his powers when necessary.  Loki is still evil, but only when he needs to be. That is what makes him a good villain. 

4.  Harley Quinn, D.C Universe 

One of my favorite shows of all time is the Harley Quinn show on Max. I love this show because it portrays Harley in a way I’ve never seen before. This show is about Harley’s self-discovery journey after her break up with the Joker.  She learns how to be selfless, kind, and caring. She also learns how to love without obsession or dependency. However, she’s still ruthless, evil, and a little bit sadistic. Her mortality is also questionable. She’s not afraid to be herself. She’s also not afraid to use whatever means necessary to get the job done. All of this makes her who she is. This is why she is on my list of the top five villains.

5.  Darth Vader, Star Wars series 

I couldn’t make a villain list and not have Darth Vader on it. Plus, I’ve been watching a lot of Star Wars, and I can’t stop. It’s a real problem, but a problem that I don’t want to solve yet. I just watched the prequels, and Darth Vader is one of the best villains in the film. Watching the fall of Anakin Skywalker and the Rise of Darth Vader is truly something else. They took the chosen one trope and completely reversed it. Anakin did everything he could to save the love of his life but lost sight of what truly mattered in the process. Instead of bringing balance to the force, he completely destroyed it. That is why I think he is one of the best villains ever. 

The Definition of Insanity: Blue Beetle and the Hero Origin Movie

Posted September 25 by Carly Maloney 

“Did I ever tell you what the definition of insanity is? Insanity is doing the exact same fucking thing over and over again, expecting shit to change. That is crazy.” 

-Vaas, Far Cry 3

Spoiler warning for Blue Beetle and pretty much any hero origin movie if you have somehow never seen one.

I recently watched Blue Beetle in theaters, and though I didn’t expect it to be good, I was still surprised by how much it disappointed me. At this point there seems to be such a low bar for such big hero movies that the audience doesn’t even expect them to be good, but at the very least they’ll be entertaining. I personally really like Blue Beetle as a character and how he’s been portrayed in other media so I had hoped that the movie would surprise me and actually end up being good.  

I guess I expected it to be cheesy, have sub-par special effects, and have a storyline that didn’t make much sense, which was all true but for some reason there was still something else that bothered me about it. It was a hero origin story, like many others that I’ve seen including at least three iterations of Spider-Man, Batman, Captain America, Captain Marvel, Doctor Strange, and many more. Pretty much all of the movies introducing a hero to the MCU or DCEU are origin stories, and it’s gotten old. This isn’t to say that all of them are bad. I think Into the Spiderverse and Ms. Marvel did a good job of introducing a young hero in a way that’s not completely bland and overdone. They present a character that is flawed, and whose flaws aren’t simply limited to the “before superpowers” part of their journey. Other hero origin stories seem to follow a stereotypical pattern (or hero’s journey) where the young hero is immature at first, but learns to be more responsible and grows up quickly once they’ve learned how to use their powers and their position as heroes. But once you’ve seen enough hero origin stories you start to notice some patterns, tropes, and stereotypes that continue to pop up and that are pretty tired (especially after more than ten years of MCU introducing Marvel comic book heroes to the big screen). Sadly Blue Beetle wasn’t an exception, and I think the reason why I was so disappointed is because of how much it leaned into the hero origin tropes.  

On its own, there were things I liked and didn’t like about the movie.  Some elements of the movie that I disliked were similar to other recent superhero movies, like how they can’t seem to pick one genre and stick to it. Blue Beetle fell into the same trap that I think Love and Thunder fell into, which is that it didn’t know if it wanted to be a drama or a comedy, and ultimately tried (and failed) to be both. Instead of simply being a comedy with more nuanced, serious moments integrated throughout, Blue Beetle kept trying to go back and forth between comedy and drama, and it just didn’t work. It felt jarring to go from the somewhat light and more humorous transformation of Jaime into Blue Beetle to the death of Jaime’s dad.

Other elements I didn’t like about the movie were exclusive to the movie itself.  The acting was really stiff and awkward due to the unnatural dialogue, which made it painful to watch at times.  I honestly believe that most of the cast are probably good actors, but for some reason they were delivering their (really unrealistic) lines in a very weird way. The script had a lot of lines that seemed forced and like things that real people would never say. It felt like the script itself was trying to keep the movie afloat by forcing the characters to talk about things relevant to the plot.  The movie also fell victim to some hero origin cliches, like the death of a family member or someone close to the protagonist. Like I mentioned earlier, Jaime’s dad dies from a heart attack when the house is surrounded by agents, but what made his death worse was how his character was turned into a twisted martyr that basically only existed to help Jaime find his way as Blue Beetle. It took scenes like one early in the movie where Jaime and his dad talk about how they “both feel lost but as long as they’re together they’ll be alright” and turned it into a selfish self-fulfilling prophecy only for Jaime.  

I know it’s probably hard to believe after that review, but I didn’t completely hate this movie. There were definitely aspects I liked, such as how the movie depicted the relationship between Khaji Da (the scarab) and Jaime, since they were supposed to have a symbiotic relationship. In the beginning the scarab was much more direct and seemed to show less emotion, not having much of a connection to Jaime. By the end of the movie the scarab was trying to prevent Jaime from killing because it knew Jaime’s morals, spoke some Spanish, and developed some of his personality. I thought this was a cool way of showing that they were becoming more symbiotic.

I also thought the family dynamics were done well (except for Jaime's dad). There are a lot of superhero movies where the protagonists feel they can’t reveal their secret identity to their family or those close to them because they’ll put them in harm’s way or wouldn’t understand. This movie showed Jaime’s more unique transformation which happened in front of the family, so there was no chance of hiding his new identity to begin with. I thought this was meant to show how close Jaime was with his family and how his family would always try to support him, no matter what the circumstance was.

I also appreciated that Jaime was twenty two and not a high school student. This could just be personal preference, but I feel like young heroes being teenagers in high school is also overdone in hero movies, and it stands out even more when the actors are clearly not the same age as their characters. It felt kind of refreshing to see an actor play a character that was actually close to their age.  There was also a shift in the things the 22-year-old character is going through (such as having just graduated college and trying to figure out what to do next) vs. the usual high school-aged hero.   

We’ve all been slowly growing out of hero movies over recent years (at least that’s what it feels like). The MCU started to ramp up in popularity with Iron Man, the first Avengers movies, etc. and has been going nonstop ever since. The DCEU has been creating mostly Batman and Superman remakes, though recently has introduced other characters in media such as The Suicide Squad, Peacemaker, Doom Patrol, and Blue Beetle. After over a decade of the “superhero craze,” however, every new movie that comes out starts to feel old unless it does something unique with the genre or the characters. I think people are tired of the traditional hero, who is introduced in a coming-of-age fashion, then gains control or understanding of their power, and is in another mediocre movie that doesn’t add much more to their character. To be fair, it’s not completely Blue Beetle’s fault that it ended up being just okay; it was the years of hero movies showing the same origin stories over and over again that make any movie or tv show doing the same thing now look like they’re copying the “classics.” The release of Blue Beetle ultimately begs the question: are superhero movies really on their way out? Is Blue Beetle just an example of MCU and the DCEU going through the motions and rehashing the same plot over and over simply because they know people will still ultimately watch it? 

Five Great Books From Summer 2023

Posted September 16 by Julianna Reidell 

For those pursuing careers either in the sciences, business, or the arts, there are unmistakable benefits to higher education. And there are even aspects of higher education that I enjoy. (It’s probably worth noting that, while I’m not officially obligated to say any of this, I also feel that it would be rather inappropriate to begin a blog for my college litmag with “I hate academia”). But one thing that I am willing to publicly critique about my experience as a college student is how much it cuts down on my time spent reading for pleasure. 

I really don’t get to read for fun during the school year; while I know other people who’ve successfully finagled their schedules to accommodate a few hours with a good book, it’s never been something I’ve been able to set up. So I was especially grateful that, throughout this past summer, I was finally able to plunge back into a world in which texts weren’t just something to be rapidly consumed and then regurgitated complete with insightful analysis, but a means of escape, a way to both enjoy myself and broaden my horizons. And this summer’s reads proved to be particularly horizon-broadening — I found myself delving into topics and genres that I’d hitherto left unexplored, and, when, like Sisyphus’s rock, the school year inevitably rolled back down that proverbial hill and into my path, I was able to look back with contentment and satisfaction at the literary ground I’d covered; the books I’d read. 

In this post (and in no particular order), I’ve assembled five books of various genres that I enjoyed immensely and would absolutely recommend. I’ve also provided some of my thoughts and a light review/critique, but tried to avoid concrete spoilers. I hope that something on this list piques your interest, and that you, too, find yourself with a story you’ll love as much as I did (even if it is after the semester is over). Happy reading! 

1. The Prey of Gods, Nicky Drayden (science-fiction) 

 An afrofuturist sci-fi adventure witty and fast-paced enough to captivate even the sci-fi skeptic (me), The Prey of Gods wins a prize for being one of the most enjoyable books I’ve had to read for a class. I’d expected my reading for a summer class on religious traditions of the African diaspora to be interesting; I hadn’t expected to find myself caught up by Drayden’s complex ensemble cast of characters and the sharp tensions of the world they inhabited. The speculative fiction tropes are all there — genetic mutation technology and dangerous new drugs run amok, emerging A.I. sentience (and malevolence), and mythical deities determined to plunge the world (or at least South Africa) into chaos and ruin — but Drayden made every trope feel not only fresh and intriguing but epically fun. I did reserve some critiques for what felt like a rather abrupt tonal shift halfway through the novel, as well as an ending that, for a stand-alone adventure, left a few plotlines and character arcs/relationships unresolved. But overall, Drayden’s novel, particularly its diverse cast, made sci-fi feel like a realm I wouldn’t mind exploring further — a stark contrast from my usual perception of the genre as the haven for tech-minded white men without much interest in welcoming others in. 

Rating: 🤖🤖🤖🤖🤖 (five robots) 

2. Gender Queer: A Memoir, Maia Kobabe (graphic memoir) 

Figuring I should read this one before the book-banning mobs got to it, I checked Gender Queer out from a local library, and am so glad that I did. Kobabe’s vulnerability and frankness in discussing a topic so frequently wielded solely as a political tool was impeccable: while I don’t share the majority of eir experiences with and relationship to gender, a book that discussed topics of gender and sexuality with such openness still made me feel more comfortable when reflecting on my own thoughts, body, and adolescence. Gender Queer, with aspects of mature content, is certainly for an audience of a certain age, but the work it does in humanizing a group (and idea) that has been so frequently “othered” — as well as in normalizing feelings —  is work that should be transferred to books for all ages and level of readers (this probably has something to do with why so many people across the country are trying to restrict access to it). 

Rating: 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 (five Pride flags) 

3. The Ghosts of Rose Hill, R.M. Romero (YA romance/fantasy novel-in-verse) 

The Ghosts of Rose Hill tells the story of a young Jewish Latina girl sent to stay with her aunt in Prague for the summer. While officially supposed to be preparing for the SATs, she discovers a long-abandoned Jewish cemetery behind her aunt’s house, falls in love with the ghost of a boy buried there, and ends up working to free him from the grasp of a monster of European folklore. I picked this one up on a whim, largely because the inside cover’s description of the story’s villain as “a man with no shadow” appealed to my sense of the fantastical. I was, admittedly, skeptical — I’m not a huge reader of novels-in-verse, and  “girl falls in love with ghost” is one of my least favorite story tropes. But Romero’s writing is powerful, alternately lyrical and sharp: she writes with a level of depth I hadn’t been expecting and possesses the ability to evoke both the magical and the monstrous. The story, rooted firmly in eastern Europe, flows like a fairy tale, complete with an alternatively romantic and dangerous film over reality. By the time I’d reached the poignant and powerful ending, I was officially a fan. Highly recommended. 

Rating: 👻👻👻👻👻 (five ghosts) 

4. Man Made Monsters, Andrea Rogers (YA horror) 

Horror is perhaps the genre I’ve gone out of my way to avoid the most throughout my reading life, but the concept of Rogers’s collection — a series of stories detailing one extended Cherokee family’s interactions with the supernatural across history — combined with the glowing praise on the back cover compelled me to give it a try. I’m glad I did. While there were fewer connections between the stories than I’d expected — all work as stand-alones, and, without the family tree provided at the beginning of the book, the reader could be forgiven for not realizing the stories were meant to serve as an overarching chronology — Rogers dove deeply and elegantly into not only your more standard horror archetypes (including vampires, werewolves, and several nods to Frankenstein that I particularly enjoyed) but the deeper evils generated by predatory human behavior. The chills of the book’s content and the grittiness of the narrative voices of many of her protagonists was also offset, however, by the compassion with which she described family relationships, which often provided a nuanced and touching counterpart to the darker aspects of the tales. 

Rating: 🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻🧛🏻 (five vampires)  

5. Good Omens, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (fantasy comedy/satire) 

Admittedly, this book is not for everyone. Anyone with particular religious devotion would probably not appreciate Gaiman and Pratchett’s tale of an angel and a demon who, having been stationed by their respective workforces on earth for thousands of years, decide that they rather enjoy it and would rather not see it end à la Book of Revelation. Also admittedly, I adored it: it’s quirky, clever, and absolutely ridiculous, and if I learn that Gaiman and Pratchett didn’t have an immense amount of fun while writing it, I may finally be convinced that there is no fun to be had in writing and give it up. There are deeper themes to be appreciated here — the value of life on earth and its blessings, who has responsibility for changing (or ending) the world, and the relevance of defining oneself in contrast to one’s rivals — but the book can be equally enjoyed for the wittiness of its prose and the charm of its characters. (There is also now a TV show, developed by Gaiman with Pratchett’s blessing before his death in 2015 — this, too, I found delightful, though I would still advocate for reading the book first, both to catch the plotlines and jokes that didn’t make it to the screen and to understand the show’s heavy reliance on the music of Queen).

Rating: 😇😇😈😈📖 (two angels, two demons, one good book)