Reviews

Welcome to the Crest reviews! These are reviews of non-student body pieces done by members of the Crest board.

Album analysis: (4/10) tracks

By June Greenberg

Carrie and Lowell was written and produced by Sufjan Stevens as his 7th studio album. This album was released on March 31, 2015, and centers around the effects of Sufjans’ mothers’ death, who was in and out of his life, and how he navagates his world after her absence. Each song was written and produced by Sufjan himself and has an average rating of 99%. The title comes from his mother, Carrie, and her second husband, Lowell.

Should Have Known Better

-Favorite line-

My black shroud, frightened by my feelings, I only want to be a relief.

Should Have Known Better by Sufjan Stevens is about Sufjans experience in his early life around the absence of his mother. The song encapsulates his complicated feelings as a child when his mother, Carrie, left him when he was very young. He uses the symbolism of a black shroud to convey his then clouded expression after his mother had left him. He speaks about his guilt in his unwillingness to express his feelings to his mother, which is seen in the line: “I should have wrote a letter and grieve what I happen to grieve”. This song takes us back to Sufjans childhood, and how in the depths of their in-and-out relationship, he would get constant reminders of her presence. He relates seeing her face on the back of a door when he was three as a rest and fantasy. He was calling out to the mark she forever left on his life, yearning for the comfort he had never received. Towards the middle of the song, the melody shifts, inviting the blooming sense of hope Sufjan began to find later in his life through the birth of his brother's daughter, whom he saw his mothers face in. The reminders of his mom that he had been seeing since he was three years old could not only be reminders of the bad. His past trauma had found a way to heal through the newfound light of his present.

This song drew me in with its display of growth and closher that were discovered in the depths of trauma. It made me feel connected with Sufjan, as he told us his story surrounded by pain, but also his story surrounded by hope. These alternate feelings came from the same source of trauma, showing the dynamic of how we as people cope and grow within our experiences.

Fourth of July

-Favourite Line-

Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction–now where am I? My fading supply.

Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens is a reflection of the night his mother passed away and the wave of grief Sufjan felt in that moment.This song opens with a gut wrenching melody that perfectly encapsulates the feeling of loneliness and grief. As the song progresses, it continues this momentum of pain, but also question. He speaks gently of his mother in the song, calling her names such as “my firefly”or “my little Versailles”, as if he was reflecting onto her the care he wished to receive as a child from her. Sufjans tenderness toward her was used not to ignore her faults, but to find comfort–whether that be within her passing or within himself. This song deals with the guilt that Sufjan held onto in regards to his mother, but also how he was willing to forgive it. The line: “And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best, though it never felt right”, reflects on Sufjan allowing himself to grief and question, but also his willingness to accept and grow. He finds the casting of his mother as a “funny thought”, and asks if she finds it all right, along with the repeated line: “Why do you cry?”, showing the proximity of this experience and the questions he holds that await an answer.

I believe this is one of the most heartbreaking songs and I will continue to speak highly of it. This song displays feelings of longing for something that has passed, and how it forces us to reflect on ourselves and our lives.

No Shade in the Shadow of The Cross

-Favourite Line-

My only lover, give out to give in, I search for the capsule I lost.

No Shade in the Shadow of The Cross by Sufjan Stevens centers around the aftermath of his mothers death and what Sufjan used to cope with it. The song speaks about Sufjan’s past history with drugs, alcohol, self-harm, and sex, which he used to find temporary happiness following his mothers death. The line: “Like a champion, get drunk to get laid, I take one more hit when you depart”, was used to display his reliance on both drugs and sex during this depressive state. He makes references to childhood memories, such as the “hell in the valley of The Dalles”, which leads back to his mother, as Sufjan had spent three summers there with her and his stepfather. I think the most heartbreaking symbolism he uses is the symbolism of the cross on his mother's grave, in which he compares the shadows that reflect from it to a set of wings. I believe he uses this to display the illusion of flight he found within drugs, though they were only the shadow of the reality in front of him. I believe this song was also a reflection on his own Christianity, and how he believed God had failed him during this time of grief.

This song unfolds copious layers of Sufjan’s trauma and the unhealthy ways he dealt with it. This song allows us to feel the true weight of Sufjans mind during his depression, which was expressed with total vulnerability through this piece. Though this song is truly saddening, I also find great power in it. Sufjan was able to create something beautiful out of his pain for others to see and connect with, showing his strength as an artist.

Drawn to the Blood

-Favorite line-

For my prayer has always been love, what did I do to deserve this?

Drawn to the Blood by Sufjan Stevens is a song of question. He explains the death of his mother as an undeserving experience, but also as a place of guilt for him. He poses questions throughout the piece like, “how did this happen?” and “what did I do to deserve this?”. I believe these are questions that he is asking for the intent of God to answer them, as he is calling to God of Elijah and Delilah, both of which are mentioned in the song. The death of his mother had led him to feel confused in his own Christianity. He feels he must have done something wrong in order to receive the brutal punishment he was experiencing. The line: “Delilah, avenge my grief” shows him begging for peace amidst his pain, and asking God for help. At the end of the song, lyrics stop, and a long instrumental commences, reflecting his pain through sound. His trauma was so intense, he didn't even have to explain it through words. We as the listeners could understand every emotion and every thought completely, further showing his intense ability to connect with his audience through song. I think this part of the song is what makes it so impactful and so incredibly artistic.

This song is truly heartbreaking and so powerful. It leaves the audience completely intact with Sufjan’s emotion, developing a connection between the listener and the artist. This song did an exceptional job showcasing the flexibility of music and the power it holds through words and instrumentals.

Conclusion

Carrie and Lowell by Sufjan Stevens is such a vulnerable and beautiful album that means so much to me. Sufjan is a true lyrical genius, each one of the songs in this album are just as impactful as the next. Each track revolves around his trauma, but highlights different components of it. He unfolded his already complicated relationship with his mother and the aftermath of her passing to create this incredible display of art that both me and many other listeners appreciate so much.

Sources: pitchfork.com, medium.com, nyfos.org

Uzumaki, a manga by Junji Ito

a review by Callista Melis

5/5 Cresties

Let me preface this review by putting it out there that I’m not a big horror fan. That said, I definitely enjoyed reading Uzumaki.

Written and illustrated by Junji Ito, Uzumaki is a fantastic piece of literature, similar to Ito's other works. The story mainly follows Kirie Goshima, a Japanese student living in a town called Kurouzu. Some of the chapters focus on the people around her, which adds to the world building and believability of this story (even though the events happening are supernatural). Although some (most) of this 3-volume story was downright disgusting and made my stomach turn, it ultimately advanced the plot in meaningful ways and expertly demonstrated the struggles and frustrations of the protagonist.

Throughout the story, the people of Kurouzu gradually become increasingly obsessed with spirals. At first, the obsession only manifests in the town’s nature, as curly grass and whirlpools in waterways start to draw Kirie’s attention. However, strange events keep happening and spirals always seem to be in the center of them, leading curious onlookers around and around in circles (eventually in a literal sense). Junji Ito’s storytelling is incomparable to any other author, as he has a distinct method of conveying the twisted rules of his worlds in a way that strangely compels the reader to not look away.

I would advise that if you have a weak stomach or don’t like body horror, you probably wouldn’t have an amazing experience reading this book, but I recommend Uzumaki nonetheless.

I was bored in the school library, scanning through bookshelves, when The Dog Stars caught my eye–just from the title alone, I couldn’t tell what genre it was, and the cover was a simple constellation of a dog. Was it a fantasy? A modern comedy? Was it tragic? To my surprise when I opened the cover, it was about living after the apocalypse, day by day, from the perspective of a middle aged man who lost his family. He only had his dog and his grouchy–and gun obsessed–old roommate for comfort.

I actually really like this book--the writing style is unique, as it’s more of a stream of consciousness and thoughts from the main character's point of view than well structured and beautifully written prose. That’s definitely something that could turn a lot of people away from the book, but it’s almost what made me keep reading. Learning bits and pieces from the thoughts of a middle aged man who depends on his dog for the will to survive, too done with the end of the world to continue living without his dog being happy, healthy, and safe. It definitely can be confusing though, because there’s no quotation marks, semi-colons, or any fancy ways of writing. It’s mostly small sentences broken up by frequent indents.

The characters' thoughts give you little bits about what happened, about how desolate the world turned, how violent everyone acts to each other, how the world is filled with more dead plants than alive ones. You have to put it all together though, and there’s certainly questions that never get answered.

Overall I really enjoyed it–but the author had some decisions I disagreed with. The author seemed to add paper thin romance for the sake of there being romance, and honestly I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with it. He had his own ideas, but for me they just didn’t hit the mark. I think romance could have been incorporated better, but it was so sudden and progressed so quickly that it just didn’t make sense and caused me to flip past pages, disappointed. It ended suddenly, the last paragraphs ending on a cliffhanger that would never be answered, and I genuinely have no idea why the author ended it like that. There must have been a reason, for suspense or to show the spontaneity of the apocalypse, but I just didn’t get it. Is it meant to be confusing? Was there meant to be a second book? Did the author just not know how to end it?

Despite not being that satisfied with the cut-off ending or sudden romance, I’d give The Dog Stars 4 Cresties, as I truly loved the unique writing style and setting.

The Dog Stars, a novel by Peter Heller

a review by Liora M. Ginsberg

4/5 Cresties

The Penelopiad, a novel by Margaret Atwood

a review by Nora Isenberg

5/5 Cresties

My first view of The Penelopiad, a retelling of the Odyssey from Penelope’s perspective, was the table of contents, which includes chapter titles such as “Helen Ruins My Life” and “Heart of Flint”. Indeed, much of the book continues in the same manner: witty, frank, and concise. At one hundred and ninety-six pages, The Penelopiad is on the shorter end for novels, but it does not feel rushed. It also does not feel drawn out, as is the case with many longer novels. Instead, the plot builds with all the inevitability of a volcanic eruption.

The titular Penelope, who is intelligent and lonely, is interesting enough. However, where the characters really shine is not in Penelope but in Penelope’s description of others. There’s Eurycleia, who helps Penelope adjust to living in Ithaca but is more loyal to Odysseus and, later, their son Telemachus. There’s Penelope’s mother, a flighty naiad; Helen, egotistical, beautiful and condescending; and Odysseus, who is cunning and lying and whose exploits are never clearly defined as either godly or mortal. There are, of course, the maids, whose voices shine through in periodic interludes written in verse.

The maids’ deaths by Odysseus and Telemachus are central to the plot, although the maids themselves are only present in the second half of the story. The other characters, when described by critical Penelope, are severely flawed. The maids, though, according to Penelope, are sweet and loyal. Similarly, Penelope is unwilling to be as critical of herself. Throughout the beginning and middle of the story, she is witty enough to cover her own flaws. I especially liked her portrayal of ancient Greece. Ancient Greece, in modern retellings especially, is often sanitized or weighed against modern ideals, but The Penelopiad deals with the ugly parts while acknowledging the cultural norms. However, it is the maids’ interludes that give voice to their anger, their pain, and their humanity. It is the maids’ interludes that build up to the fact that Penelope, for all her self-professed perfection, is just as flawed as the people she dislikes. Then again, who among us isn’t?

Transistor is the odd middle child of Supergiant Games’ releases.

Sandwiched between Bastion, the game that gave them their first start, and Hades, the game they are known for today, Transistor has always been the odd one out. The game’s story follows the same beat as the real-life version of Transistor, play as the odd one out, and still be remembered.

You play as Red, a recently voiceless songstress, and you have been thrown into this world and the characters know what is going on, but you alone are lost in this story. The characters don’t waste any time attempting to explain the world around them to you, the player, exposition is instead given to you through easy to miss terminals, and learnin about characters is easy to miss if you don’t equip skills in different places.

One might be confused about why I derive so much enjoyment from a game which seem intent on misleading the player at every loading zone, but within that same reason for infuriation, I find it to be an exercise in deduction. I adore when games force me to find out what the story is from easy to miss source, it makes me more intrested in the game. I have to pick i apart to find every bit of text which describes the story and the setting, it isn’t handed to me on a silver platter, and that makes the game even more rewarding to me.

I feel Transistor is a game best experienced blind, sure, the game play mechanics might not be to everyone’s playstyle, but the story that weaves every bit of the game together, from lyrics, to area design, to even which speakers the dialouge comes from, I feel a half hearted review will not do justice to this game. It rewrote my brain chemistry in the best way.

I give Transistor five Cresties out of five.

(Side note: even if video games aren’t your jam, I suggest giving the soundtrack a listen, it combines so many music types to give you something that sounds unique and all its own. Darren Korb continues to be a really good composer.)

Transistor

a review by Anja Frickx

5/5 Cresties

My Vampire Weekend

a review by Abby Falkoff

4/5 Cresties

Going to a Vampire Weekend concert at Huntington Bank Pavilion at the Northerly Islands (which is a ridiculously long name for a venue) in Chicago is one of the best ways to spend a July evening with a friend.

First things first. I have never been to a concert until this year, partly because I have never heard a band that I wanted to see in person. That changed three years ago when I discovered Vampire Weekend. This was the first year they came to Chicago since I started listening to them and I really appreciated being in a major city because they were playing two nights which doubled my chance of being able to go (I was not able to go the first night). In addition, their new album “Only God was Above Us” has some of my favorite songs. Ezra (the lead) must have read my mind since he sang Mary Boone, Capricorn and Step, which were the songs I most hoped to hear that night. I was surrounded by people who all knew and loved Vampire Weekend, a welcome change from the blank stares I normally receive whenever I mention them. It was exciting to be part of a crowd of fans with Vampire Weekend t-shirts, hats and bags who knew every word to every song. I loved how the band interacted with the crowd the whole night, letting us sing parts of a chorus and giving us their appreciation of Chicago.

I had a blast, but that did not come without some grievances. Because I try to be on time to events (some people would say even too early) I would have liked a heads up that the actual concert would not start until 8:30. My friend and I arrived promptly at 6:30 which was the time stamped on the ticket and we had to kill two hours. That said, there was an upside to this as there was no line to get into the venue or to the merch stand (I’m happy to say I got my first Vampire Weekend t-shirt that day). I also got to hear the band Ra Ra Riot and comedian Maya Rudolph (Judge Gen from The Good Place, one of my all-time favorite TV series) as opening acts. With more time to kill we set off on the quest to find something to drink. This turned out to be more difficult than I had anticipated as literally the only drinks that were being sold were alcoholic. News alert, Northerly Island: I’m only 17! Luckily my friend is very tall and was able to see a lonely Sprite at the very bottom shelf of one stand. Sprite in hand, the concert was finally about to begin. It was at this point that I was forced to comprehend that I was surrounded by 17,000 people and 106 giant speakers (trust me, I counted). To some people, a loud and crowded place is heaven, but I am a person who gets overwhelmed very easily in this particular situation. In preparation I had made sure to wear my most noise-canceling set of earplugs and would like to give a shout out to Loop ear plugs since they made my Vampire Weekend experience for the most part tolerable (although next time I’ll probably wear headphones).

Despite these few sour notes, I could not have asked for a better first concert. I got to see my favorite band live, sit in amazing seats where I could see the stage standing or sitting (given that I’m only 4’9” that’s saying a lot), and spend quality time with a good friend.

My first exposure to music was instrumental. Not the likes of Beethoven or Mozart, but that of rolling hills, sunset-capped trees, and bird’s eye views through misty clouds. On Youtube and free-music playing apps, my playlists were laden with these experiences, constructed by English composer and filmmaker, Marcus Warner.

While I have expanded my music taste, tenfold in variety, though still limited in volume, Warner’s music always occupies a space in my recently-listened Spotify playlists. Drawing from his own nature road trip across the states, he, along with Aiden Appleton, released Twice Above the Atlantic (Road Trip Addition) in 2022, featuring both lyrical pieces along with their instrumental counterparts.

In each piece, beginning with “This Was Us,” we are brought along the pair’s journey across America, stopping in “The Apartment in Brooklyn,” exploring “The Sunshine State,” and driving along the “Pacific Coast Highway.” With a combination of calming vocals and radiating orchestration, Warner perfectly encapsulates the feeling of winding through mountains with wind rushing through the car windows. Featuring small artists such as Humble He, each song fits their particular theme of dancing “In the Summertime” or spending time on the shore of the “Oceanside.” Nonetheless, the pieces still function as a unit, ebbing and flowing like the expansive highways of America.

Whether it’s studying late in the evening, walking on the same sidewalk I do every morning, or even completing daily chores, Warner’s music can both put one’s mind at peace, or hype it up for work. Twice Above the Atlantic is energizing, seen through the fast-paced tempo of “In the Summertime,” which I use for my wake-up alarm, as well as deeply emotional in the soft strums and stretched notes of “Stay” and “The House by the Lake.” With each album title that Warner produces, though especially Twice Above the Atlantic, it best defines the exact emotional and physical feeling the listener will encounter. Not only will it change the silent atmosphere, but it will also alter the very environment, turning it into streaked skies and painted landscapes.

Though admittedly niche, I would recommend Twice Above the Atlantic, and Marcus Warner in general, to anyone. I owe my everlasting love of instrumental music to his work, and I truly always come back whenever I feel the need to escape the stress of student life on a nature road trip.

Twice Above the Atlantice (Road Trip Version) by Marcus Warner & Aiden Appleton

a review by Jessica Li

5/5 Cresties

A Great Pumpkin

a review by Margaret R Dean

4/5 Cresties

Around 25 years ago, my grandmother skillfully crafted a wearable pumpkin costume for my then-17 year old mother. While my mother has dressed in it for many Halloweens since its high school debut, two Octobers ago I donned the same costume for school. Continuing with the tradition, I wore it again this year, and proceeded to be followed around by a chorus of “Pumpkin!” for the following 12 hours.

This pumpkin costume is actually a jack-o-lantern, if anyone wants to be specific. Sleeveless and going from shoulders to mid thigh, the orange is disrupted only by four patches of black: two eyes, a nose, and a smile. The liner is a thin white fabric that is just shorter than the orange so that a respectable poof is created, and within that is a small amount of mesh stuffing. It is important to note that any wearer of the pumpkin costume should remember to adjust the mesh stuffing before ear wear, as it often accumulates in one area of the poof, resulting in a lopsided jack-o-lantern smile.

Besides a few unfinished seams, the pumpkin costume that has now been worn for two generations is viewed by me as an artistic masterpiece. It is size adjustable (the back closes with three ties of orange ribbon and the highest one cinches the neck to the desired size of the wearer), durable, and most importantly versatile. Shorts, sweatpants, jackets, sweaters, tank tops, and even crocs have been worn with the costume.

Besides the joyful “Pumpkin!” being called after me in the hallways of school, I was also referred to directly as Pumpkin throughout the day. For anyone who enjoys that term of endearment being used by people around them, dressing up as a pumpkin is the perfect way to achieve the result of hearing “Good morning, Pumpkin” several times. As for me, I will likely begin to pick costumes that are not specific items.

Ultimately, however, I find so much joy in wearing a costume that has an interesting history with my family and overall it has served me well for two years of spooky spirit.

Caroline Polachek is no stranger to the music industry. After being a member of the indie band, Chairlift, she released four studio albums, two of them under her own name. The most recent of them, released this past Valentine’s day, carries her further on her journey into pop. Desire is a departure from her more ambient, but still romantic style to bring a more bratty and forward voice.

The album starts off with the cyclical and unique track Welcome to my Island. She interrupts her repeating verses with chaotic guitar solos, which is even more impressive as Polachek does not know how to play the guitar. The second track is Pretty In Possible, and it calms down significantly. The standout is the drum track, which accompanies Polachek’s vocalizations in a soothing loop. This was the first track on the album that wasn’t released as a single, so it was really my first impression of the album as a whole, and I enjoyed it. Following this is Bunny is a Rider, one of Polachek’s most popular songs. Ranked as the number one song of 2021 by Pitchfork, Bunny is an avant-pop summer anthem with nonsensical lyrics and a music video featuring Polachek wandering a Cretian maze. Producer Danny L. Harle’s daughter also makes a feature, with her giggles being sampled and chopped to become one of the most recognizable parts of the track. Next is Sunset, produced by one of my favorite electronic musicians, Sega Bodega. Sega is known for working with artists like Shygirl and FKA Twigs, but his signature style is not apparent on this song. Built on a mediterranean guitar riff, the song is filled with romance and lust, with the line “So no regrets, ‘cause you’re my sunset'' exemplifying the theme. Personally, the song falls flat because I know what these artists are capable of. Following after is Crude Drawing of an Angel. The angel itself is visible on the album cover, scrawled above the door of the subway car. In terms of the song, it feels like delving into a dark cave as a metaphor for a relationship, some things hidden from sight until your partner chooses to show you. A message that you can easily relate to even if you don’t want to.

The next song, I Believe, is a very knowing and understanding song, while also being free and sincere. Dedicated to the late producer Sophie, with lines like “look over the edge, but not too far.” Sophie was a pop and electronica revolutionary, who passed away a few years ago after falling from her balcony. The breakbeats and orchestral hits of I Believe seem overdramatic and dated for such a modern song, but Polachek uses them as she sees fit, as “there can be no compromises down low”. In fact, they lead quite well into Fly to You, featuring Grimes and Dido. This is the only feature on the album, and it is well planned and executed. I am more familiar with Grimes’ work, so I know her more ethereal style lends itself into Polachek’s musical aesthetic. Dido on the other hand, most famous in the UK but still being known for her song Thank You (sampled by Eminem in Stan), brings a more calming and rhythmic vibe. Dido’s experience really shines through, even more so than her partners. The following track, Blood and Butter, is less serious and delightfully odd. It mixes a sort of Ray of Light sentiment with Scottish folk music, including a pumping percussion track and a bagpipe solo. The nonsensical lyrics talking about inventing June and the body powers don’t distract from the musicality of it.

Unfortunately, the thrill of this song doesn’t last, as it leads into the next track Hopedrunk Everasking. It seems at first to be similar to Crude Drawing, but soon reveals itself as a pale shadow. For some inexplicable reason, the sound of a low battery smoke detector periodically beeps in the background, drawing attention away from the somewhat interesting lyrics. Vaguely referencing Macbeth and the impermanence of human life are lost in the distraction. Equally abstract but much more pleasing is Butterfly Net. Another song about love and the inevitable loss it comes with, but focusing on the futility of trying to keep it together as opposed to savoring its brevity. The metaphors are strikingly accurate, referencing trying to catch light in a butterfly net. Butterfly Net is sort of a breath of fresh air: a reliable and simpler song without any standouts. Similarly, Smoke is another smooth and uncomplicated song. Most of the lyrics are Polachek saying “na-na-na” over and over, but it doesn’t really get old. Repetition, or more specifically cycles, are a common motif in this album. Smoke wouldn’t be able to stand on its own, but as part of the album it fits in. Finally, the closer Billions provides a stellar ending to this pop journey. Utilizing reversed drums and referencing her own romantic ideals, the song feels pulsing but not slow, calling back to the past but not dug into it. The album finishes out with a children’s choir repeating, “I’ve never felt so close to you.” This refers to her love and herself, as this album proves that she has never known herself better. Overall, Desire shows Polachek’s growth, inside and out, and proves she’s a force to be reckoned with.

Desire, I Want to Turn Into You, an album by Caroline Polachek

a review by Tommie Unsell

4/5 Cresties

Seveneves, a novel by Neal Stephenson

a review by Ainsley McConnell

3/5 Cresties

"The moon blew up without warning and for no apparent reason." That is the first line you read if you ever decide to pick up Neal Stephenson's 880-page monster of a speculative science fiction novel. As far as ways to open a book go, you can't do much better than that. All of humanity has two years to live before shattered moon bits come raining down on Earth's surface. What ensues is a tangle of politics, conflicted interests, characters both endearing and annoying, and so, so much thoroughly researched science.

Stephenson pours astronomical jargon and niche knowledge into this book that would make even Andy Weir fans double-take. Some jargon he simply makes up, creating an endearing sense of realism but a reader's nightmare when one picks the book back up again after a break. Stephenson juggles multiple points of view - not new for his novels - but what is notable is his attempt to shape the narrative around the women in the story. It is called seven eves, after all. I was impressed at first by his ability to write a pretty well-realized, believable female perspective (though the bar is in hell, as they say) but was disappointed when Stephenson abandoned the characterization ship in favor of penning paragraphs upon paragraphs about theoretical orbital mechanics and quite literal rocket science.

The word is that Stephenson burned himself out after his 90s golden age. For a while fans needed only to point to this monster of a 2015 novel to disprove the critics - and yet, one can still argue that the craft in Stephenson's 1992 novel Snow Crash or the vibrant 1999 novel Cryptonomicon has dissipated somewhat. I am neither a fan nor a critic. My opinion stems from my love of reading authors who love writing, and it's clear Stephenson packs as much dense scientific research into this book as he does because he loves it, he thinks it's interesting, and he's willing to bet that we will too. But even the most nerdy of readers (me, for example) tire of Stephenson's unadorned textbook-like prose and stammering pacing at around the 400-page mark. At least if the moon ever blows up in the near future, we'll know exactly what to do.

Hailing from New Jersey, Danielle Balbuena, better known as 070 Shake from the 070 music collective, has been bringing her unique style of rap to the scene since 2015. Modus was her first studio album, released in 2020. Her music can only be described as transcendent, reminiscent of artists like Flume and Tkay Maidza. 070 Shake doesn’t put labels on her sexuality, but she expresses her love for women very prominently in her music.

The album starts off with Don’t Break the SIlence, a short intro that sets up for more themes of love, loss, and things not quite in your reach. Next is Come Around, bursting in with heavy, commanding synths that shake off the dreaminess of the last track. Another short and simple track, Come Around shows the opposite end of the spectrum of Shake’s music: from ethereal and flowing to booming and dramatic. Morrow is where the album really picks up. Starting off with a little guitar riff, it quickly turns into a bouncing and quick romp about not being able to handle a person that you still love. Her voice turns from caring to grating and degrading quickly, with her versatility when it comes to tone standing out. Following this is The Pines, which may sound familiar to any fans of Nirvana or the Bluegrass Boys. The Pines is one of the many songs that were inspired by the old murder ballad In the Pines, the most famous being Where Did You Sleep Last Night by Nirvana. This version is from the perspective of the unfaithful lover, defending her actions by saying she just needed to escape and let go. The song climaxes with rising strings, playing an almost accusatory melody. Moving on and almost reversing this idea is Guilty Conscience, the standout track from the album. Carried along by warm synths that evoke a sense of regretful nostalgia, Shake sings about catching her partner cheating, but realizing that she knew all along and just chose to ignore it. A particular metaphor striked me, the line “you look like the moon in the morning, jaded, faded, almost gone.” Guilty Conscience is one of the most unique rap songs I’ve ever heard, using its beat to invoke emotion in a way I’ve never seen before. Maybe it would have been a hit in the 80s.

The next song, Divorce, is similarly inviting. It starts off with a confusing drum pattern, but quickly transitions into a waltz-like pattern befitting the pomp and circumstance that marriage brings. The song serves as a vessel for Shake to express her thoughts. She views marriage as something that drives people apart, saying “Face your fear and face the truth/Me and you, we were one/That was once, but now we're two.” She paints marriage as a union of money, not two souls. It’s Forever is next, a short interlude sampled from an old R&B song by The Ebonys. It lasts only 20 seconds, and goes directly into Rocketship, a relatively simple, bouncing synth rap. Peppered by repetition, it talks about being a free spirit that can’t be tied down by relationships. If I heard that from someone I’d be out the door already, but that’s just me. Ignoring the lyrics, Rocketship is a light and electronic song that is fun to listen to. The opposite of that, Microdosing is a dark and booming track, and thematically one of my favorites on the album. For such an ominous and deep instrumental, the lyrics are beautifully empathetic. She talks about not wanting to be her partner’s only love, because if they drift apart then she will have nothing left. It hits home for a lot of people that have been left feeling empty after losing a relationship, myself included. In contrast to all of the betrayal in Shake’s other songs, this one almost seems hopeful. The next song, Nice to Have, is just as loving but not as rosy. Another regrettably relatable song, she sings of a lover slowly slipping away from her. She blames her partner for this, but in reality both of them are just traveling in different directions. It isn’t a hopeless song, but it evokes that feeling when you think about being in a decaying relationship that can’t be repaired. If that’s too much to handle, Shake lightens it up with Under The Moon, a much more relaxing song. It is spacey and flowing, feeling more ballad-like than her other songs. The words match this energy, painting herself as a carefree spirit urging the one she’s singing to, not really a partner but rather just someone she’s attached to, to be like her and let loose. This song is followed by Daydreamin, which switches to a more aggressive and hammering beat as Shake grows restless with her partner’s indecision and decides to leave. Unlike Nice to Have, it doesn’t have the same regretful tones in the lyrics, replacing them with anger and judgment. Daydreamin ends abruptly after less than three minutes though, and the soft pulse of the next song immediately begins. Terminal B is a ballad that follows the singer’s thoughts on the relationship they have ended. The vocals are backed with calming synths and strings that create a new air of sympathy and bring back the regret we are familiar with. In the end, she decides she was never deserving of this love. Terminal319 ends with a goodbye, with Shake stating, “I’ll never know how long I’ll stay, how far I’ll go.” She doesn’t necessarily feel happy, but for once, she feels calm. The album ends with the beat from Come Around, as she affirms her decision to stay true to herself instead of changing for someone she loved, but still wanting to find someone she doesn’t have to change for.

Modus Vivendi, an album by 070 Shake

a review by Tommie Unsell

3.5/5 Cresties

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

a review by Jessica Li

0/5 Cresties

Taylor Jenkins Reed, a white and straight woman, writes on the first page of her book, “As a biracial woman myself–light brown skin and dark brown eyes courtesy of my black father, an abundance of face freckles courtesy of my white mother…”

The context of speaking through the first-person perspective of a biracial character, which would inevitably be requested when this quote opens a negative review, only serves to strengthen the aforementioned pessimism.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, to put it simply (because I will not put any effort into giving this book a fair chance at success) tells the story of Monique, a biracial woman who interviews Evelyn Hugo towards the end of her life. Evelyn recounts her many husbands and her one true love, her colleague, Celia.

Hailed as a holy grail of sapphic fiction and representation in contemporary literature, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo is a fine example of why the act of reading or writing novels is not an indicator of intelligence. Not only is the plot unrealistic, poorly written, and full of unlikeable characters, but this book fails to accomplish what it is often praised for: an engaging story about a well-developed sapphic romance. The main pair, Celia and Evelyn are absolutely horrible to one another, with their starving chemistry being completely composed of paragraphs of physical descriptions (often containing the word “thin” and “slim”) and the character’s monologues of how “utterly gorgeous” the other is. Their constant toxicity and vileness towards one another should not be upheld as the pinnacle of sapphic representation. It seemed as if a romance between two women to Reed can only be dictated by the male gaze, with no other sustenance. This felt more like a sexualization of sapphic love, rather than a celebration of it.

In addition, every character, including men, who the audience is supposed to root for, is described as being “beautiful” and “skinny,” while clear antagonists or the villain of the hour being “pudgy” and labeled unattractive. While these descriptions are acceptable as an occasional occurrence, they become questionable when it is the author’s only way of denoting a protagonist and antagonist. The obsession with weight and body image in this book is incredibly unnecessary, with both Evelyn and Monique mentioning their fear of their bodies changing after giving birth and going through a heartbreak respectively. Although this could be used to discuss and reflect toxic body standards, the book never follows through with this lens. It most likely was not intentional, but this casual mention of negative body standards in women only serves to normalize these harmful thoughts.

Reed should win an award for the most types of botched diversity, for in addition to the horrid diversity in body type and sexuality, she manages to also disgrace people of color. While the quote mentioned should satisfy the explanation for the writing of Monique’s character, Evelyn is another (perhaps even more severe) case of Reed’s careless view of representation. Evelyn is a Cuban immigrant, who bleached her hair in order to pass as a white person. Aside from Reed’s painful and highly unwarranted attempt at writing about the immigrant experience, she also whitewashes Evelyn to the point where her fancasts for a live-action movie feature white actresses. There was absolutely no reason for Reed to write a Hispanic main character while also whitewashing her. It may be argued that this was the only way to become successful during the time (1900s), but Reed does nothing to show that this mentality and behavior should not be promoted. Even when Evelyn meets an openly Hispanic woman, she views her as inferior and does nothing to show she is interested in her culture.

This book is regarded as the pinnacle of fictional diversity? Absolutely not.

To be sure, diversity can and should be written into every source of literature. However, diversity can quickly become problematic when a white and straight author is speaking about the biracial or immigrant experience, as if she has personally experienced it or is capable of offering an authentic voice on the matter. It is even more disappointing that someone who is more systemically privileged is being rewarded and seen as the epitome of representation for racial minority groups and the LGBTQ community over someone who is a genuine member of these groups.

For actual (good) sapphic representation, Adrienne Tooley cannot be recommended enough. Not only is she a phenomenal writer in her own right, but her stories focus on well-developed relationships between women, with actual chemistry and likable characters. Unlike Reed, Tooley is fully aware of her strengths and caters to them, rather than attempting to be an author she is not. The only accomplishment Reed has made with this book is giving me free fire kindling and enough spite to last me a decade.

“You probably think this world is a dream come true, but you’re wrong…” Coraline follows a young girl with blue hair through her adventures as she moves into a new place. She lives an unsatisfactory life but finds a little door that leads to a place where her dreams are fulfilled.

In this parallel universe her mother and father are better and give her everything she wants. But as the movie continues she begins to find it suspicious. Coraline goes on a journey through this world and learns that there is more than what the eye can see. Overall, the lesson that can be learned from this movie is that you should never take things for granted. Watching Coraline is like recalling a strange yet magical dream. A world of circus mice, talking cats and magical gardens overwhelms the audience with awe. Although many people say that this movie is too scary, I believe that the elements of horror complement the comforting and warm tones that are sprinkled throughout the film.

Coraline by Neil Gaiman

a review by Leena Nagaraj

3/5 Cresties

You Might Have Seen Them a collection of short stories by Nicolas Sequeira

a review by Tommie Unsell

5/5 Cresties

The materials to create stories lie within all of us. What distinguishes normal people from writers is the need for those stories to leap out of us and onto the page. What distinguishes good writers from great writers is their ability to weave those stories together into something beautiful. Nic Sequeira is one of those great writers, as he is not only able to conjure pages and pages of engaging writing, but also connect a multitude of stories to each other, making it more than the sum of its parts.

You Might Have Seen Them, my favorite of his creations, is a collection of his short stories that make up part of a project called the Hypnagogic Archive. The archive, which can be found at hypnagogicarchive.neocities.org, is an amazing work of storytelling disguised as a place to find artifacts of the old days of the internet. If you go through the archive you’ll find stories and videos about cults, haunted gas stations, undead herons, and more, but if you look closer, you can see that many of these stories have the same characters in them. A selfish girl who would do anything to get her way, including murder. A woman on a VHS tape that makes you wonder where your world ends and hers begins. A guy with a bad haircut that ruthlessly collects all the media he can in order to achieve his goals. After combing through the archive, you begin to see the true story of the project. The most impressive part, however, is the fact that they don’t need to be put together. Almost every story contained in the Hypnagogic Archive can be taken out of context and enjoyed just as much. Even if there was no overarching narrative, the archive would still be a testament to Sequeira’s skill as a writer by showing just how many unique and high-quality stories he can put out. I highly recommend that you take a look through the archive yourself, and if you feel moved by it, buy a copy of You Might Have Seen Them like I did, or buy the shorter Tales From The Void that is coming out soon. If you just want to read through the hypernarrative, you can read Oxide of the Void, The Persecuted Accountants, Requiem for Steve, Chloe: Final Thoughts, Evening Meeting, Joyce, Ellis: Final Thoughts, and Shelby: Final Thoughts, but I encourage you to take a deeper dive. I’m sure you’ll find something worth your time.

Look Back is a Japanese one shot manga written and illustrated by Tatsuki Fujimoto, later adapted into a feature length anime movie. It follows two girls and their friendship over their entire lives, and how drawing manga brought them together. The story is a touching story on growing up and friendship but also a beautiful commentary on the creation of art itself.

I read Look Back originally a couple years ago, because I was a fan of Fujimoto’s series, Chainsaw Man, a popular shonen manga and anime. I felt entranced by the way he tells stories, and wanted to see more of his work. His comics are heavily inspired by cinema, and they feel like movies themselves, which is probably why they adapt so well. The Look Back movie adaptation came out a couple months ago, and even though I have sort of gotten out of my anime and manga phase, I decided to watch it.

The story follows a girl named Fujino, and her friendship with another girl, Kyomoto. It starts out when they are in 4th grade, and Fujino is renowned as the “class artist” for her funny comic strips in the school paper, but is challenged by the homeschooled kid, Kyomoto, who does pro-level illustrations. She starts practicing more and more, not wanting to be surpassed. At the end of the 6th grade, Fujino has to deliver a diploma to Kyomotos house, where she finds out that Kyomoto is a huge fan of hers. The pair then team up to create comics together, and they grow up together as well.

I’m going to stop here in my summary because I truly cannot do this manga justice, I cannot recommend it to anyone enough.

Tatsuki Fujimoto’s art is beautiful in this manga. His drawings themselves, while they are not technical masterpieces, convey so much emotion in them. There is one scene, early on in the story, after Fujino finds out Kyomoto admired her, where she is walking home in the rain. The walking turns into running, which turns into dancing, and there is a full two page spread of her running and dancing in the pouring rain. There are so many scenes like this in this story, that allow a deeper look into how the characters are feeling. The emotion shone through bounces off the page, and it is truly beautiful to look at. The expressions he draws on the characters, from judgement to nervousness to shocking, debilitating grief show so much emotion and humanity.

There is so much humanity in this story, and its central theme surrounding why we create art is deeply explored throughout. “Then why do you draw, Fujino?” Kyomoto asks this question at the end of the story, in a flashback where Fujino is complaining about the process of making manga. There is no answer given through words, only pictures. These pictures show all the times in the story that the two worked together, the two laughed together, the two explored together, and the two created together. In my opinion, the answer that Fujimoto gives for the reason of creation is love. Love for the craft, love for another, love for the world and what you put out into it.

Look Back by Tatsuki Fujimoto

a review by Eva Kantz

5/5 Cresties

1984 and Its Relevance Today

a review by Owen McFadden

4/5 Cresties

1984: You hear it referenced here and there, especially on the internet and frequently in the tirades of political extremists, one way or another. You may have gotten the gist from listening to a song like “Karma Police” by Radiohead, or by watching THX 1138, or even from hearing about it in a lecture from your teacher. In any case, 1984 has stood the test of time and is never not talked about in popular culture. But why is that?

Well, I’m assuming here you haven’t read it, but even if you have, here’s the main plotline:

Winston Smith is a man living in (maybe?) 1984, but even he isn’t aware of the true year. He lives in Great Britain, now called Airstrip One in a post-capitalist society governed by The Party, which follows the principles of Ingsoc, or English Socialism. Ingsoc is in fact not English nor socialist, but a doctrine of the unitary authoritarian Marxist-Lenist state, otherwise known as dictatorship. The Party goes about enforcing its tyrannical rule through mass surveillance, secret police, revising history, and rallies in support of the Party. Winston navigates this dystopia by keeping an illegal journal, downing gin, and later on having an illicit relationship with a coworker. However, when he eventually gets tired of the Party and tries to join the rumored, underground opposition known as the Brotherhood (in ironic reference to Big Brother, the figurehead of the Party), Winston receives a copy of a manifesto that explains the global situation.

In summary, this manifesto adds detail to the setting, but primarily serves to realize the immense feeling of dread and desolation the current world order imposes on its citizens. It’s at this point in the novel that, in my opinion, the rest of the story is mostly irrelevant and most of the meaning has been delivered.

Because from here on out, Winston follows the path you’d expect him to: he is brainwashed into genuinely believing the ideology of the Party. He is then released for a limited time before his undated public execution, where he dilutes his trauma with gin. However, before a “bullet is placed” in the back of Winston’s head, a military victory announcement results in a final, true shift in belief for him, culminating in the iconic line: “He loved Big Brother.”

Apart from being a great book with countless metaphors, complex layers, and a myriad of issues where 1984 was ahead of its time, 1984 is REAL. Feel like you’re in a monotonous machine? Validated. Can’t speak your truth? He can’t either. Swamped with endless work but minimal free time, or even a lack of things to do in your free time? Winston gets it. The ending resonates deeply with any sympathizers of the previous sentiments, those losing rights, and honestly many people in today’s world. It feels crushing, that the Party was absolutely unresponsive to all attempts at liberation, silencing each and every one with torture and death. For many of us, it seems like a deep parallel to the current world order and its lack of rapid and effective change.

But there’s always hope. Before the mid-1800s, even men weren’t able to vote, and look at us now: nationwide voting regardless of sex or race! This isn’t to say there isn’t more work to do, but we’ve done it before and we can do it again. Losing the battle doesn’t mean losing the war, and keeping in touch with the status quo while also actively questioning it will keep you educated and aware. Much like in the world of 1984, there are always going to be forces with malicious intent (where most of the parallels drawn come from), and all you can do is fight back in any way you can.

Dorian Gray is a young man in high society whose face captivates all who see him. When he gets his portrait painted, he wishes he could stay this beautiful forever. Time moves on, and his face stays the same, but his portrait ages. As he loses the innocence of the past and becomes crueler, his portrait reflects the monster he's become. A heartfelt story about humanity, fearing repercussions, running away from your mortality, and deceit.

The Picture Of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

a review by Madison Hart

5/5 Cresties

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