It's Only A Paper Rose

Posting slightly early because tomorrow is slated to be mega-busy - breakfast, massage, yoga, lunch, volunteering, teaching. Also it's my first shift tutoring kids at the library and I haven't worked with kids in years and it's Valentine's Day so they're all going to be hopped up on candy and YOU GUYS I MAY BE LITERALLY INSANE. Yeah, I'm slightly terrified. But it's a good and useful thing I can do to try and make the world a little better...so I'm going to give it my best shot. At least I'm joining up mid-year; if it turns out I just hate it, I can get away with quitting when school's out in June without being a jerk. But it'd be nice if I actually enjoyed it.

What I just finished reading

Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates. I admit that a good part of why I read this now was sheer spite—the VRBO we stayed in last week had an entire bookshelf with a particular political bent, so I bought this specifically with the intent of reading it before we left and leaving it on said shelf. As for the book itself, I could go on for pages about my reactions to it, but for the sake of brevity I'll stick to the biggest revelation: Coates' framing of the fear African-American people live with every day not as fear for their liberty or their property, but specifically for their bodies. It's one of those concepts that's obvious in retrospect but which I'd never seen articulated; it's probably more comfortable for white folks (like me) to debate airy principles like "civil liberties" when, in fact, what black people are afraid of is being deprived of their bodily autonomy and their lives, often by agents of the same state they're expected to swear allegiance to and depend upon for protection. Speaking as someone who's spent a fair amount of time mulling over what I would do if I no longer felt safe in the country of my birth, and debating the benefits and difficulties of the homeless expatriate versus the persecuted minority, it was a bit of a shock to realize there's a whole community of people already living that question right here in my country. (In retrospect, I'm a little ashamed to admit that this shocked me so much—it's not like I haven't been following the news—but somehow I'd never made the connection.) Interestingly, it also intersected with my experiences in the massage field: I'd noticed for quite some time that the African-American people I've worked with tend to have bodies that are stiffer, with fascia that's adhered in patterns you see when people are often in fight-or-flight mode. I had figured it made sense, what with literally having to fight the system everywhere you go to be recognized as a human being, but again, I hadn't quite realized precisely how corporeal that fear was.

What I'm currently reading

The Beekeeper's Apprentice, by Laurie R. King. I got this from Audible some time ago, and with all the driving we were doing visiting friends in AZ, Brian and I broke it out to listen to. The narrator is competent enough, if a little limited in her range, which mirror's the writer's ability level as well - there are more than a few parts where I can't tell if she's rehashing intentionally in reference to the original Holmes stories or if she just needed another pass by the editor. But Mary Russell is an engaging enough protagonist, and the mysteries themselves (once we get past the somewhat slow beginning) quite well constructed. Holmes and Russell are up against the Big Villain of the piece now, and I have some pretty solid suspicions of who it might be, though I'll keep them to myself to avoid potential spoilers. I also am very much enjoying the not-always-comfortable evolution of Holmes' and Russell's relationship from master-apprentice to partners; I'm at times slightly concerned King is angling for a future romance, which argh no unnecessary and also way creepy between a twentyish woman and a sixtyish man? But so far the tension's been subtle enough that it could be chalked up to "older dude in sex-segregated society unused to having female company", so I'm hoping it's just my literary conditioning causing me to read too much into it.

What I plan to read next

I hang my head in shame - I'd planned to read The Master and Margarita on the plane back but I was so braindead I ended up watching Zootopia on the plane's streaming service instead. (Which I can't say I regret because it was funny and well-constructed and so much smarter than I was expecting and really go give it a watch, especially if you're having a day when your faith in humanity is low. And seriously, there are some great gags.) Soon, though, I promise!