Interview with VoyageMichigan Magazine

Hi Everybody,

I wanted to let you all know that I was interviewed for VoyageMichigan Magazine recently! For those who don’t know, they focus on promoting small businesses, independent artists and entrepreneurs, and local institutions in Michigan. It was an amazing experience sharing how I started this website and getting my work highlighted along with other local professionals.

Check it out here: https://voyagemichigan.com/interview/life-work-with-emily-malek-of-sterling-heights/

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Dalva Book Review

Have you ever read a book in which it’s going good only until you get to a part that’s not? It doesn’t work for you for some reason, but everything else before and after are worth it. I’m sure that this has happened to me in the past, but not in the way I’ve experienced it like I have with Dalva by Jim Harrison. It’s a fascinating look about a woman coming to terms with her family’s and her own past, and yet one section doesn’t gel in the same way that the others do.

Dalva is about a woman whose one-eighth Sioux who gave up her son for adoption years ago. At age 45, the title character embarks on a journey that will take her back to the crux of her family, the half-Sioux man whom she loved when she was a teenager, and her great-grandfather whose journals recounts the annihilation of the Plains Indians. She discovers a story that stretches all across the country, and finds a way to heal her wounded soul.

Harrison tends to have a masculine style of writing, but it’s nice to see him getting less indulgent and depicting women beyond one defining character trait. He pens more concisely than he did with Legends of the Fall. He still digresses, yet it’s only with certain characters, so at least he knows when and when not to use it. As for the female characters, Dalva herself is 45 years old and still hasn’t figured out her life. Her younger sister Ruth is trying to get a man after she divorces her gay husband, and their mother Naomi always senses something is up even though she may not admit it. Unfortunately, I had a problem trying to imagine Dalva in my head. I know a drawing of her is on the book cover, but I couldn’t conceive of her being 45 and being built like Wonder Woman. I’m not saying that a woman that age can’t have a hot, sexy body. She had a baby, so her physique was going to be altered. I think Harrison was playing into his own fantasy of what a woman should look like as opposed to what they actually have. 

A lot of the female reviewers on Goodreads pointed out that Dalva was a man’s woman, as in she’s what men think women are. Don’t get me wrong. Even though I get where those people are coming from, she has an inner life as she conflicts over her identity and past actions. Also, some women are more masculine than others. The book was published in 1988, nine years after Legends of the Fall, so it’s an overall improvement. 

Another part that I liked was the journal entries from Dalva and Ruth’s great-grandfather John Northridge. It was nice seeing a fictional account of someone who lived alongside the Sioux, embraced their culture, and tried to get them the governmental help they needed before the Massacre at Wounded Knee (coincidentally I wrote most of this review on the anniversary of that event). Those records can digress, but characters like Michael the historian and Dalva acknowledge this throughout the book. Despite that, I really felt for Northridge. He seemed like he was trying to do the right thing, but his actions weren’t enough. To an extent, a lot of readers might know about this rich and violent history of the Native Americans, and these (albeit fictional) entries add more of a human component.

Ok, I had a lot of good things to say about it, so what’s holding it back? Before I get into that, I have to provide context. The book is divided into 3 sections. The first and last ones are narrated by the titular character, while the middle one is through the eyes of Michael. Michael is an alcoholic, gluttonous, and neurotic man, who is entrusted to go through Northridge’s journals and share them with the world at large. In other words, he’s simply pathetic. He’s so pathetic that I imagined him sounding like James Corden. Because of that, I constantly kept thinking of the image of Corden’s head on a mouse’s body from the Amazon Prime Cinderella, and that made things worse. Those two things made the section with Michael’s point of view laborious to get through. However, I liked the part where he gets beaten up by Lundquist – a Swedish farm hand for Dalva and her family. The reason will not be surprising to those who have read the book. Also, the novel wasn’t trying to portray him as a saint, so I really couldn’t get that annoyed at it. Knowing how Harrison writes, I wish that it was its own separate story.

Overall, I like Dalva by Jim Harrison much more than Legends of the Fall. I liked getting into the mindset of its main character and how she reconciles her family’s and her own past. Harrison’s depiction of various female characters are improved from the earlier title. I wish the second third wasn’t such a slog (but then again, a part of that was because of me and how I imagined the historian). I would recommend this to those who like Harrison’s works; character studies on strong, but flawed women; and reading stories that involve Native Americans. This shows that even good novels can contain some bumps.

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Dog Man Book Review

When I was a Children’s Librarian, my job was to know what the kids were reading. This allowed me to order titles that they wanted to read.  One of the titles that I quickly knew was popular was Dog Man by Dav Pilkey – the same guy who wrote the Captain Underpants series. After reading it, I can understand why kids and even adults can enjoy it.

Dog Man by George and Harold (uh, I mean Dav Pilkey) is about the titular character – part dog, part human – and his adventures in fighting crime as a canine cop, especially those committed by his nemesis Petey the cat. It’s the first in a series, and it details his origin story and three other tales of justice.

As a kid, my sister and I loved reading Captain Underpants because of how silly the series were. I mean, it’s a superhero whose schtick is that he’s only wearing underwear. No one can take that seriously, and yet, he’s able to fight crime and put the villains like talking toilets and evil lunch ladies in jail.

I get the same vibe from Dog Man. As mentioned earlier, the main character is a half dog, half man who fights criminals as a police officer. Also, it can get very silly. For example in one story, Petey discovers that the reason that Dog Man is so smart is because he reads a lot. As a result, he invents a machine that eliminates all text from every book in order to make everybody stupid. This is the kind of silly stuff that a kid with an active imagination can come up with.

The book consists of 4 chapters, and each of them contains separate stories. The first one details Dog Man’s origin, which involves Petey the cat. The other tales contain other adventures that the titular character gets into. They are all fun. My favorite is Petey the cat using a ray gun to make inanimate objects come to life. There’s a great running gag of the hot dog wieners (who came to life because of Petey) trying to cause trouble in the town, but no one is taking them seriously because of their size.

Moreover, its graphics look like they were drawn by a kid with an active and sometimes gross imagination. The boxes are not made with complete straight lines, and some of the letters are retraced over to make sure that they are legible. The latter results in some of the letters looking darker than others. The characters are also illustrated with little dimension. Do you expect kids to be like Jerry Pinkney when they first start drawing?

Now, let’s get to the characters. One will not find a whole lot of substance with them, but they are very entertaining. Dog Man is a loyal half man half dog despite the shenanigans he gets into. He’s the typical hero in a comic book. There’s also Petey, who’s basically the evil scientist in cat form. He acts like the usual super villain. Another main character is the police chief, who gets annoyed whenever Dog Man ruins his stuff like his new couch. However, the former realizes that he needs the latter during the course of the book. I heard the police chief with Mr. Goldenfold’s voice from Rick and Morty, which made the read all the more entertaining. Yes, the characters are tropes that one can find in superhero comics, yet that’s the point because it’s written by first graders. Kids at that age are becoming familiar with those cliches, so they won’t most likely know how to subvert them.

Another element that makes Dog Man worthwhile is the flip-o-ramas that appear throughout. These were so much fun to do while reading it, and they don’t overstay their welcome. After the first one, I was secretly looking forward to the next flip-o-rama. I could do those for an hour if I wanted to, but alas I had to be an adult. It made me feel like I was 7-8 years old again much like the rest of the book did.

If there are complaints with the graphic novel, they are usually about the misspellings and the filth in it. I wasn’t bothered by those aspects. I talked about how the book looks like it was written by an actual kid, and that usually involves words that are incorrectly spelled. A kid’s spelling is not going to be perfect all the time. Heck, I know plenty of adults that need spell check. It’s a relatable element that the novel displays. As for the filth, there are scenes that involve poop and pee on the couch. Sure, not everyone will like the toilet humor that book sometimes gets into, but Dog Man is written by the same person who created a superhero who fights villains like talking toilets. Even Pilkey makes fun of these kinds of people with a report “written” by Harold and George’s 1st grade teacher expressing disappointment at their work and their supposed inability to follow the rules. Sometimes, one has to know what they are getting into when they read certain books. 

In conclusion, Dog Man by Dav Pilkey is a great graphic novel for both kids and adults. The stories and the graphics were highly enjoyable and believable as written by children. It contains tropes familiar to comic book fans, but the framing makes it understandable. I would recommend it to kids ages 7 and up, to adults who don’t mind a good juvenile book every now and then, and to anyone who likes cruder humor. It was a quick read, so I’m going to devour the rest of the Dog Man series soon!

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Blankets Book Review

Content warning: Sexual abuse, nudity, and religion are discussed in this review.

Graphic novels have always been contested in the literary world. Some don’t see them as real books because they have plenty of pictures in them. At the same time, they can help struggling readers to build their confidence and understand what’s going on in the story. One such graphic novel that has the ability to aid people in enhancing their reading skills is Blankets – a memoir by Craig Thompson. Its illustrations beautifully demonstrate the feelings of a teenager growing up in a religious family in rural Wisconsin.

Set in a Wisconsin winter, Blankets explores the coming-of-age story of Craig – a teenaged boy who has trouble expressing himself creatively because of his strictly fundamentalist Christian family and community. At a winter church camp, he falls in love with a girl named Raina. They reveal their struggles with their faith and dreams of escape. However, their personal demons resurface, and the relationship falls apart. It’s a portrait of adolescent yearning, first love, a crisis of faith, and the process to move beyond all that.

Let’s get one aspect out of the way now: it’s nearly 600 pages. It seems silly now, but at first, I thought it would take me a while to read it because of that amount. That was not the case. I was able to complete it in a week since it was *surprise a graphic novel. Along with that, the story was comprehensible enough that I didn’t have to go back and reread certain passages. Ok, I lied. I only went back to some pages just to look at the illustrations.

The themes of snow and blankets are present throughout the graphic novel. The former is shown as something that could be isolating as well as fantastical. Craig feels alone for a lot of time growing up, but when he’s with Raina, he’s able to escape reality by running around in the snow and making snow angels. In one part, Craig and Raina stay out in the wintry forest near her house until late at night because they wanted more time to themselves. Blankets in this story represent comfort and security – things that Craig didn’t always have. When he was younger, he and his little brother Phil slept in the same bed, and they would constantly fight about the cover, especially during the colder seasons. Later, when Craig is with Raina, she gives him a blanket she made herself using various quilt patterns. They end up sleeping with each other underneath that quilt. However, once the relationship is over, Craig burns all of the papers and drawings that remind him of Raina, yet he realizes that he could never destroy that blanket. I’m not going to lie. I literally shouted, “Nooooooooooooooooo” right before Craig sets various things on fire because I thought he was going to smolder the quilt. Luckily, he didn’t.

The black-and-white (and occasionally blue) drawings beautifully show the author’s feelings towards his body, his love for Raina, and religion. He has issues with his body because both he and Phil were sexually abused by their babysitter. He never wanted to grow into an adult body because of how grotesque it looked to him. There’s even a page of a young and naked Craig with some angels that look like they are about to drop him in the hellish world of a grown man’s body.

With his love for Raina, his emotions are more complicated. When they first meet, Craig is smitten by her because of how beautiful and kind she is. There are several panels in which he depicts her as a goddess to show how much she means to him. Granted, there’s a valid argument about how Raina doesn’t have much of a personality. At the same time, she has her own feelings like being stressed by taking care of her special needs siblings and coping with her parents’ divorce, and to her, Craig is an escape and provides security much like she is to him. Also, people have their own versions of the stories they tell themselves. This is even explored briefly between Craig and Phil at the very end of the novel. Back to Craig, and Raina, their love and need for each other like Linus needing his blanket made me root for them. Sadly, their relationship ended after Craig spent two weeks with Raina in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

Since Craig grew up in a strict fundamentalist Christian community, he is expected to do things for God and not sin. While he is spiritual and reads the Bible, he constantly grapples with Christianity’s contradictory elements. Towards the end of the book, when Craig is in college, he looks through the Book of Ecclesiastes, and he discovers that certain passages were added to level out that section’s pessimistic tone. The darker elements of that biblical book are portrayed with a naked malnourished man wandering through a creepy forest and looking scared. This contrasts the more optimistic parts, which are shown as the three little pigs building a house and enjoying their rewards. This all culminates into Craig feeling like he’s wandering through said forest and the big bad wolf blowing the house down once he realizes that the word of God has been manipulated by several generations of writers. The way Thompson depicts these with starkly different animation styles perfectly conveys the feelings Craig has while questioning the Bible.

To summarize, Blankets by Craig Thompson is a great graphic novel memoir that perfectly conveys what it was like growing up in an overzealous religious community in rural Wisconsin. It’s an easy read because the story is comprehensible, and the illustrations are inventive and perfectly convey the mindset of a teenager struggling to express emotions creatively. I would recommend this to those who like graphic novels and Bildungsroman (coming-of-age) stories, specifically involving outcasts, growing up in a religious family and questioning religion; are Midwesterners; and are older high schoolers and up given some of the subject matter. Never count out a graphic novel because they are great gateways into reading.

Before I go, I want to let you all know that I posted the latest episode of the Adapt Me Podcast. It discusses how guest John Marszalkowski and I would adapt Blankets as a miniseries, so give a listen at this link!

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Not Weakness: Navigating the Culture of Chronic Pain Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given a free advance reader copy of this book by Books Forward in exchange for an honest review.

As with many of the books that I’ve reviewed on this website, I’ve come across ones that discuss certain walks of life. This includes last week’s subject Lifeline to a Soul, which covered prison life, albeit from an outsider’s perspective. For this week, I’ll look at a book called Not Weakness: Navigating the Culture of Chronic Pain. Written by Francesca Grossman, it paints a realistic, but hopeful picture of what it is like to have constant pain.

Not Weakness: Navigating the Culture of Chronic Pain is a memoir that strives to understand what chronic pain sufferers go through. After thyroid cancer, Crohn’s disease, and other autoimmune conditions that raided her body in her 20s and 30s, Francesca felt alone in dealing with her chronic pain. It affected her whole life from intimacy to mental health. And yet, it was invisible, which made Francesca feel alone. After 20 something years of living, she realized that if she was living with this pain, then others would be too. As a result, she set out to interview women with similar conditions. At first, it wasn’t easy because she was surrounded by women also battling in silence. However, the more she spoke to people, the more she found common themes and experiences. This proved that her stories of her pain as well as feelings of loneliness and isolation weren’t unique. Liberated by this discovery, Francesca realized that even though she couldn’t alleviate others’ pain, she could share their stories to make them as well as herself feel less alone.

For the record, the only experiences that I’ve had with chronic pain was through other people. For example, while studying abroad in Ireland, I had a roommate who had Crohn’s disease. She limited herself in what she could eat to lessen the inflammation. There were also times where she couldn’t do a whole lot when her intestines swelled up. In addition, my dad has had arthritis in his hands for a while now. How I read this book is going to come from interactions like the ones I just described. 

Each one of the chapters details an aspect that is affected by chronic pain. These include shame, addiction, mental illness, being fat, intimacy, motherhood, wellness, and kindness. Grossman would first describe how these elements were involved in her life, utilize various resources to justify her reasoning, and reveal what the interviewees had to say about them. These are about 10-20 pages long. She succinctly explained her arguments in a way that would make readers understand where she’s coming from even if they didn’t have chronic pain themselves. 

The most impactful were the ones on silencing, mental illness, kindness, and acceptance. The silencing section involves why Grossman and many of the other interviewees had a hard time getting treatment because they were often dismissed by doctors, so they silenced themselves in regards to their pain. One woman named Kate who was diagnosed with a rare neurological disorder called trigeminal neuralgia (TN) went to an Ears, Nose, and Throat specialist after experiencing chronic sinus infections. When a medical fellow came in and asked her why Kate was there. After Kate gave her preface on TN using medical terms, the fellow put her hand up and said, “I’m sorry…[a]re you a physician?”

Kate replied no, and the fellow told her to show her where it hurt. Kate felt so embarrassed that she didn’t want to speak another word to that professional (p.23-24). I was furious to read that part because of how condescending the specialist was. It doesn’t help that studies have shown that it’s harder for women to get treatment for certain ailments because medical professionals have a tendency to dismiss their concerns as overreacting. No wonder why these women felt ashamed in revealing their conditions.

The chapter on mental illness was eye-opening. Grossman talked about her time in a mental hospital and why she felt depressed. She made it clear that depression is not sadness. To her, it was “feeling nothing connected with feeling everything” (p.65). 

In other words, she felt so much that it made it impossible for her to do stuff. The thing that stood out to me the most about that chapter was the discussion revolving around empathy. She cites new evidence that the “areas of the brain that are connected to physical pain and are also the origins of empathy” (p. 71).

To her, this made sense since she and the interviewees had a heightened sense of empathy. One of them, Sheree, who was in a car accident that left her spine twisted, remarked, “I know it sounds insane, but I have always felt like I knew what people around me were feeling before they did” (p. 73).

I too am empathetic to a fault. When my mom was having pain in her leg because of a tumor that was pressing on her sciatica nerve, I would go over to her house every weekend just to see how she was doing and to help her out. Afterwards, I experienced an ache in my hip and leg. I wouldn’t be shocked if my body mimicked the symptoms of having sciatica after seeing what my mom went through. The fact that the body is emotionally and physically connected should make doctors reconsider how to treat people with chronic pain and for those patients to see a therapist.

After criticizing the health care system, Grossman delivers hope that it could change. This is important for a book like this because without it, it may read as taking an anti-doctor stance, and that’s clearly not her intention. For every practitioner that dismissed and ignored her ailments, there were more than were attentive and kind to her. Grossman recalls a time in which she had lost control of her bowels, and she was not able to make it to the bathroom on time. At the gym she went to, a staff member noticed her and helped her wash her clothes without any explanation. Grossman pointed out that she didn’t need to do this, but she cleaned her outfit without any judgment (p. 35-36 and p. 129). In another instance, when she was at a hospital overnight, she had a nurse named Cherylanne. Cherylanne was able to save her from falling on the floor after Grossman woozily got up to go to the bathroom. The nurse hugged her tightly and sang her “Blackbird” (p. 132-134). It’s in moments like these that gives Grossman and other patients to keep going and voice their pain.

The strongest argument that Grossman postulates is about acceptance. In the chapter regarding that aspect, she proclaims that acceptance is not surrender. Specifically, she said the following:

“Acceptance contains hope – hope that things will not get worse; and hope that our lives can be lived with humor and happiness, acknowledging some days will be worse than others. It contains hope we can do things that bring us success – in our work, families, and lives; hope we can love and be loved; and hope we can continue to hope” (p. 145).

Acceptance is the strength to carry on despite the constant pain. Although not every interviewee agreed with that sentiment, they were allowed to give their opinions regarding acceptance. For example, Dolores, who has fibromyalgia, proclaimed, “I’ve accepted it. What choice do I have? If you accept, you can move forward. I’m just too tired to fight it anymore…That’s not defeat, by the way. Maybe it’s calm or something?” (p. 152).

This reinforces the notion that acceptance is the strength to carry on, especially in the awareness of the physical and emotional pain and that no one is alone in suffering from them.

All in all, Not Weakness: Navigating the Culture of Chronic Pain by Francesca Grossman is a part memoir/part journalism book that successfully sets out to show what living with constant sores and aches is really like. It paints a realistic picture, especially what many of the interviewees experienced when it came to getting a diagnosis and eventually treatment. However, I stress again that this isn’t an anti-medical-help book. It offers hope with stories of kindness offered by people like friends, relatives, and medical professionals. Above all, the idea that acceptance is not defeat, but of carrying on despite the circumstances is a powerful one. I would recommend this to those who love stories about dealing with chronic pain, the medical field, and those involving the notion that no one is alone. After all, no one should be left to suffer in silence. The book is out now, so go get it wherever you can!

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Lifeline to a Soul: The Life-Changing Perspective I Gained While Teaching Entrepreneurship to Prisoners Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given a free physical copy of this book by the author in exchange for an honest review.

I’ve reviewed memoirs in the past, but there’s one type that I haven’t covered: the stranger-in-a-strange-land subgenre. This discusses how a person went to a place that they’ve never been in before and what they’ve learned from the experience. This kind of memoir is nothing new, so the titles have to stand out in other ways. John K. McLaughlin published a memoir in this subgenre recently called Lifeline to a Soul: The Life-Changing Perspective I Gained While Teaching Entrepreneurship to Prisoners. It’s an easy-to-read tale about a life-altering experience with a realistic depiction of prison life and an emphatic portrayal of the inmates.

Lifeline to a Soul: The Life-Changing Perspective I Gained While Teaching Entrepreneurship to Prisoners is exactly what it says. After spending half of his life developing his start-up business into a multi-million dollar industry leader, John wanted a change in his life. More specifically, he wanted to teach business to others. Because of his lack of teaching experience, the only job that was available to him was as an entrepreneurship instructor at a minimum-security camp in North Carolina. John gradually builds an effective program until a scandal involving the prison officers blindsides his progress and threatens to bring his teaching career to an abrupt end.

When I began reading Lifeline to a Soul, I initially worried about how much business jargon was going to be in it. I know only so much about that subject, so I felt that it was going to be hard to follow. However, it was comprehensible. The main goal that McLaughlin would have for his students was for them to each create a business plan. This included “a feasibility blueprint and [followed] with a business profile, a business model, the business structure, risk management, money management sales and marketing, and, finally, an executive summary” (p. 57).

This makes sense. He would help them design this during the course, which usually lasted 11 weeks, to get them to think about their potential businesses in a realistic manner. McLaughlin kept the business language to a minimum since his main focus was on what he learned as an entrepreneur teacher in a prison.

Throughout the memoir, McLaughlin compares his perceptions of what prison life was like on television to what he actually experienced. For example, when he was on a tour of the prison as an interviewee, one of the first things he noticed was how immaculate the landscape was. According to McLaughlin, it contained “patches of daisies, tulips, and pansies all mixed together with a budding sunflower centered perfectly in the mix” (p. 11).

There wasn’t a single weed in sight. He later found out that a prisoner named Kendall Willaimson ran the garden, and he was devoted to that.

In another instance, McLaughlin discusses how he saw prisoners as “crazed killer[s] wearing … orange jumpsuit[s] and shackles and constantly looking for an opportunity to escape” (p. 219).

This perception came from the shows that he watched on television. Over the book, he gets to know the inmates and realizes that many of them came from broken environments and/or didn’t take advantage of the opportunities that were given to them if any. Honestly, I had a similar perception of prisoners because the only experience I encountered outside of television and movies was my friend working at a prison library.  At the end of the book, he proudly states the views that he gained after teaching entrepreneurship in a prison like humanizing the prisoners, giving them second chances (even if not all of them can be helped), and teaching them financial literacy (p. 220-221). It’s clear that teaching in a prison had a profound impact on him and that he’s willing to be an advocate for that kind of reform.

Finally, what made this book truly work is how he shows the inmates themselves. He wanted to humanize them, so the majority of the stories were about them and their goals for their businesses. Some of them even had epilogues, and he displays their logos they created for their business plans. As I mentioned earlier, Kendall tended to the garden at the penitentiary. He grew flowers as well as fruits and vegetables. According to McLaughlin, he talked about “his plants as if they were children” (p. 136).

Above all, Kendall was a religious person and wanted to continue his ministry after he got released. McLaughlin was able to search for some suitable property, in which the inmate jumped on the chance to purchase it once he was free.  Another inmate that made an impression on the author was Josh Proby. To the author, Josh came off as intimidating and seemingly aggressive with not smiling nor breaking eye contact. Soon after, McLauglin found out that the inmate was planning to write a book with each chapter dedicated to “a charitable cause and compare the disease or problem the cause stood for to a personal problem that needed to be overcome by the reader” (p.68).

McLaughlin realized that he mistook Josh’s determination for aggression. Before Josh got released, the author helped him with his business plans and any questions about publishing his book. After his release, Josh published his book The 30-Day Journey From Prison to Spiritual Peace, ran a successful trucking business, became a motivational speaker, etc. McLaughlin even used clips from Josh’s speeches for his classes to show them that inmates like themselves can make it if they put their mind to it. Josh even confided to the author as to the root cause of why he acted the way he did at one of his presentations. There were so many other prisoners that McLaughlin got to know, but listing all of their stories here would be impossible. Without knowing the stories, it would feel like a savior narrative like Freedom Writers.

Lifeline to a Soul: The Life-Changing Perspective I Gained While Teaching Entrepreneurship to Prisoners by John K. McLaughlin is a powerful tale of one man instructing business classes in a minimum-security prison camp. The author makes his work accessible with the language used. He also confronts his previous conceptions that he had about prison life. And most importantly, he portrays the prisoners as humans, many with ambitions and goals that they wanted to get off the ground once they were released. I would recommend this to those like reading about prison life, teaching, and giving second chances. This is definitely a standout in the stranger-in-a-strange-land memoir. It was published last Tuesday, April 4, so go get it wherever it’s available.

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Goodbye to Goodbye, Mr. Chips Adaptations

Welcome to the fourth and final part of my series of analyzing various adaptations of Goodbye, Mr. Chips and how they hold up to the 1939 movie version. It was an interesting journey to take, but I’m glad that I did it because it made me appreciate the art of adapting a book to the screen even more.

To summarize, I watched the 1939 black-and-white film, the 1969 movie musical, the 1984 BBC miniseries, and the 2002 Masterpiece Theatre television flick.

I came up with these conclusions after watching all 4 versions:

  1. No matter if it’s in the novella and the subsequent adaptations, Katherine will always have that “I’m-not-like-most-schoolmasters’ wives” vibe to her. This is usually code for saying that she’s beautiful, which carries a level of sexism and misogyny (*cough 1939 film). The 1969, 1984, and 2002 adaptations give her more to do, so she stands out in various ways like being a theatre person or simply wanting to improve the students’ well being through unique ways. Also, the 1984 miniseries had the best Katherine since not only does Jill Meager is charming in the role, but she also brings the spryness that allows Katherine to show Chips the ways that he could enjoy life and to see other perspectives. 
  2. Despite the age difference between Mr. Chips and Katherine, they are two consenting adults. They respect each other and don’t take advantage of each other as well as other people.
  3. Even though each actor playing the titular character brought out certain sides, Robert Donat is still the best Mr. Chips. He embodies the sentimental, the sternness, the somberness, and realism when each of those are required. He also gets bonus points for the warmth and humor of the interpretation. However, I would say Martin Clunes comes the closest because his portrayal is the most layered, while capturing everything else.
  4. Although none of the adaptations are perfect, certain versions perform specific story beats more effectively than others. For example, I think the moment in which Mr. Chips finds out that Katherine has died is best expressed in the 1969 version. Also, the flashbacks are best utilized in the 1984 miniseries, and the confrontation between Chips and Headmaster Ralston is the most impactful in the 2002 television movie. Nonetheless, 1939 movie version still does many of the plot points most effectively, especially when capturing the relationship between Mr. Chips and the students, the first meeting between him and Katherine, and the ending.
  5. Even though the 1939 adaptation is the most definitive, the 2002 version is the one that comes the closest to capturing the spirit of the novella in its own way.
  6. Bonus! Here’s my one word to describe each of the adaptations covered. 1939: sentimental. 1969: misguided. 1984: somber. 2002: realistic.

It was fun taking a look at each of these adaptations, but it’s time to go, so I’ll leave you with this clip. Goodbye, Mr. Chips!

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Goodbye, Mr. Chips 2002 Movie Review

Welcome to Part 3 of looking at various adaptations of Goodbye Mr. Chips and seeing how they hold up to the so-called definitive 1939 version. Today, I’ll be analyzing the 2002 television movie made by Masterpiece Theatre starring Martin Clunes (of Shakespeare in Love and Doc Martin fame) as the titular character.

Sponsored by Exxon Mobil, the 2002 Masterpiece Theatre adaptation takes cues from the three previous versions, while making choices that enhance the James Hilton novella. From the 1939 version, this adaptation embodies the relationship that Mr. Chips has with his students and his willingness to help others before meeting Katherine. It starts off with a relatively young Chips arriving at Brookfield. During the opening credits, as he walks around campus, various boys spot him and mimic his walk. In addition, from a window, a teacher points out Chips’s ears. This establishes how different he is from the other faculty and how kids are always looking for new meat to mess with. The chaos of Mr. Chips’s first day is also similar to that of the 1939 version as the boys messing with him do so out of amusement. Heck, it even has the similar dialogue to the older adaptation when Headmaster Wetherby comes by and orders punishments for the students. One kid plays possum after he writes that word on the chalkboard. Later, when Colley slams his book twice, Chips calls him out by comparing him to a dog, thus putting the kid in his place. 

In addition, before meeting Katherine, he is shown helping various students. In the 1939 version, there’s only one scene where Chips tries to comfort a child with little success before he encounters his love interest. Here, there are more scenes of him aiding various boys. In one scene, he witnesses a group of boys initiate a new kid by putting him in a barrel full of water and later hanging him like Jesus at the cross. Chips gets him down and confronts the cruel housemaster Metcalf (in previous versions, he is a headmaster). Soon after, a nerdy student named Hawthorne confides in Mr. Chips about wanting to get into Cambridge despite his background. The teacher assists him with his studying in an English-like manner, and the student eventually gets in. It’s devastating to find out later that Hawthorne is among the killed during the war. This adaptation definitely captures the playfulness and seriousness of the relationship between Chips and the students at Brookfield that’s also present in the 1939 adaptation.

Like the 1969 version, the Masterpiece Theatre one has a similar structure and gives Max Staefel more of a character and more of a purpose in the story. Both are the only ones that don’t use flashbacking as a main framework. Instead, they show Mr. Chips’s story in a linear fashion. I bet this was done because the flashback as a framing device was so well done in the 1984 miniseries that the people involved like director Stuart Orme couldn’t come up with a way to better it. Additionally, Max has more of an inner life. In the 1969 version, Max is the only friend that Chips has at Brookfield, and he puts the latter in his place when needed. Later on, when war is looming, Max is called back to Germany. He expresses to Chips, “Do you think I want to go back?”

I know that it’s not much character development, but it’s more than Max is given in other adaptations besides the 2002 one. In the Masterpiece Theatre version, Max (played by Conleth Hill who is best known for playing Lord Varys in Game of Thrones) is present from the very beginning. He meets Chips on his first day, and when the latter has his disastrous first day of teaching, Max persuades Wetherby to give Chips another chance. As a result, Chips feels grateful for Max’s intervention, and this begins a friendship that lasts for decades. When the Great War is looming and anti-German prejudice is high, the bigoted Headmaster Ralston persuades Max to retire. Even though Chips is upset by this, Max is more resigned because of the anti-German sentiment in the air. This leads to the confrontation between Chips and Ralston, in which the latter tries to persuade the former to retire. In addition, expanding Max in this way gives Chips, when as Headmaster, more of a reason to read his name when he is killed on the Western Front.

Finally, what the 2002 version takes from the 1984 series is how Katherine is depicted. Both adaptations portray Katherine’s youthfulness. While Jill Meager from the 1984 version shows this through her spry performance, Victoria Hamilton (who is best known for playing one of the title characters in the Victoria & Albert television miniseries and the Queen Mum in seasons 1 and 2 of The Crown) plays up the character’s naivety with her wide-eyed stares. This is most apparent when Katherine and Chips meet for the first time. Katherine sits on a tree branch overlooking a river to watch the fish, not aware of the peril that she put herself in. When that branch breaks, Chips is able to rescue her. This is the only version in which he successfully saves her. Moreover, both adaptations play up her socialist views and her need to make a difference in the world. When they meet, Katherine and Mr. Chips discuss women being doctors and George Bernard Shaw. Soon after, she gives Chips a book about socialism written by that man. Later on, when they marry and Katherine moves in, she strives to improve the students’ wellbeing. This involves talking to Wetherby about the bullying on campus, resolving differences between a pair of students, and organizing a social for the boys with a set of girls from a different school. Although Katherine doesn’t live for long, I’m glad this adaptation makes her active in the story, both in helping Chips become more empathic and in her own right.

The 2002 television movie also makes choices that enhance the James Hilton story. This version takes on a more realistic tone than the previous adaptations. This is apparent in how Brookfield the school is depicted. It explores the systematic bullying that occurs at said school. There are several incidents, in which students get harassed by their peers and their teachers. Chips (and later Katherine) get involved and try to help through compassion and understanding. At one point, Mr. Chips has to discipline a boy for being on the roof. After he canes the student on the palm of the latter’s hand, he throws the cane across the room, thus vowing never to punish a child in that way again. Even the sound effect the film uses for the cane sounds extremely harsh. Later on, Mr. Chips has a realization that disciplining the students in such a strict and cruel way doesn’t make them act any better. This is also true during the war scenes. Students are learning how to use bayonets on the school grounds. Even an older Colley (played by a young Henry Cavill) comes home with a leg missing. The realistic portrayal of Brookfield shows what work Chips has cut up for him and makes the results of his interventions all the more impactful.

The realistic tone is also obvious in how Martin Clunes portrays the titular character. When Chips is young, Clunes plays with a sense of naivety, but not completely innocent. As Chips gets older, Clunes lowers his voice without putting on an old-man one. The makeup reflects this realism by aging Clunes naturally, and it’s the best use of it in all of the adaptations. It also helps that Clunes’s physical appearance allows him to play characters of various ages. In addition, the actor takes on the stoicism of the character, while also being emotional at various points of the story. In fact, Clunes shouts in a variety of scenes. This can be a bit much, yet it’s most effective when Chips confronts Ralston about forcing Max to retire. When this scene is depicted in the previous adaptations, Chips usually raises his voice, but never yells. Clunes takes that to another level by having Chips outright shouting at Ralston after the latter confronts him about his teaching ways and tries to get him to retire. This makes the students all the more adamant to fight for his honor, whereas in previous adaptations, they are shocked and not much else. Overall, Clunes’s performance shows that even Mr. Chips struggles himself to remain constant while the world is changing around him.

Credit: Stuart Reviews Stuff (This is the reason why the 2002 version has the best makeup!)

Meanwhile, the 2002 television movie makes some odd choices, one that works in a strange way and the other that doesn’t. The first one involves the bombing scene. In most adaptations, the bombs go off near the school, and Mr. Chips calms his pupils down by having them read from their textbook. While that happens in this adaptation, screenwriters Frank Delaney and Brian Finch (uncredited) thought it would be a good idea to have a German plane crash on the school grounds and show a dying pilot in Chips’s arms. Granted what makes this scene weird is through the cheesy special effects (still normal for a PBS production though). And yet, it works because viewers had already seen Chips read Max’s name when announcing the alumni who died during the war. This shows that his kindness and empathy extends beyond nationality.

Then, there’s the other choice that I can’t figure out why they put it there. When Mr. Chips is dying, he says his famous line about raising thousands of children and all of them being boys. Normally, he dies after he makes that statement, but not in this case. Instead, he says Katherine and then passes away. It then cuts to a boy ringing a bell and walking away. The only thing that I can think of that sort of justifies this decision is in the previous scene, an old Chips thinks he sees Katherine at a party that’s honoring him. He then gets up and keels over. I get that the writers wanted to remind the audience of Katherine’s presence despite her absence. However, the final moments of this story are reserved for Chips to state his overall reflection of his career since the core relationship is between him and the pupils he’s had over the decades. That’s why I’m confused about the ending.

In spite of all of the praise I’ve lavished on the 2002 version, I have one caveat. Many of the scenes in the television movie play and end a bit too quickly. I can understand why this was done to make time for the Exxon Mobil ads, but it’s from PBS. They don’t cut to commercials during their shows. This swiftness makes this version the shortest of all the adaptations, clocking in at 1 hour and 44 minutes. If the movie slowed down just a little, then I think it would be neck and neck with the 1939 film in terms of effectiveness.

All in all, the 2002 version of Goodbye Mr. Chips is the most effective of the adaptations outside of the 1939 adaptation. It takes elements from the previous films in order to expand certain characters and the varying relationship between Chips and his pupils. In addition, its realistic tone helps to explore the circumstances Mr. Chips is in as a teacher. Martin Clunes takes on the titular character in a way that’s familiar and different at the same time. It’s not perfect mind you, but it’s worth the watch. I would recommend it for those like Martin Clunes and want to see every version of Goodbye, Mr. Chips (like myself).

Check out my next post for the conclusion of my analyses of the four Goodbye, Mr. Chips adaptations.

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Daisy Jones & The Six Series Review

Throughout this month, Amazon Prime has been promoting the miniseries adaptation of Taylor Jenkins Reid’s beloved novel Daisy Jones & The Six. Advertisements for the show and its music have shown up on social media, and Amazon has even started marketing the outfits that various characters wear.

Depending how one feels about the novel and, more importantly, Amazon, this can be a wonderful or a highly annoying thing. I watched all 10 episodes over a four-week period, and viewer, it was worth it because it made the story whole.

Developed by Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber, the show is a faithful adaptation of the book, but just like any other adaptations, there are some differences between. Vanity Fair already has an article listing them in great detail, so what I’m going to do is cover the important alterations from page to screen and how that affects the adaptation. The biggest change from the book to the show is the framework. In the former, it’s an oral history of the Fleetwood Mac-like 70s band from cradle to the grave. While this was a good framing device, I couldn’t help but feel that something was missing given that Reid had lyrics for each of the songs from the Aurora album listed in the book club kit. In the series, the framework is a documentary of the group with “archival” footage. This improves the story because not only does it show what the band was like and how they interacted with each other, but it also allows listeners to hear what their music was like. I especially love how the interviewees react to what another person says about them. It felt authentic.

Another drastic alteration between the page and the screen version is the lyrics. With the exception of the song “Please,” the ones that show up in the book club kit are different from the ones that are heard in the series. The most famous line from the book version of “Regret Me” that goes “And, baby, when you think of me/I hope it ruins rock ‘n’  roll” was omitted from the miniseries.

I’m not sure why this happened, yet I wouldn’t be shocked if the reason was to make them suited to the music musicians Blake Mills, Tony Berg, Chris Weisman, Jackson Browne, Marcus Mumford of the band Mumford & Sons, and book nerd Phoebe Bridgers were composing. The book lyrics can be a bit wordy, but then again, there are songs that are just like that from artists like I don’t know Fleetwood Mac. The ones from the show feel more secondary compared to the music despite their importance, given how much the series emphasizes the tension between Billy and Daisy through their songwriting.

Another set of major changes for the Amazon Prime adaptation involve the omission and expansion of some characters. On one side, the bassist Pete was cut, and Eddie filled that role after Chuck decided to go to school to become a dentist (as opposed to going to Vietnam to fight and dying there in the book). The reason was that Pete didn’t contribute too much to the plot. Although it felt weird to have five members while still calling themselves The Six (they made Billy’s wife Camila the unofficial sixth member), I honestly don’t remember a whole lot about Pete. It was for the best, for it gives Eddie another reason to feel like a second-class citizen within the band. 

On the other hand, Symone – Daisy’s friend who becomes a disco pioneer – is greatly expanded in the series. According to the Vanity Fair article, Reid, who also was a producer for the show, mentioned that she wanted Symone to be more developed. In the novel, she functions as Daisy’s friend, not much more. In the series, Symone (played by Nabiyah Be) is given her own subplot as she tries to find her own voice as a gay black woman. She goes to New York City after she meets Bernie – a black female deejay – in Los Angeles and experiences the ups and downs of trying to be successful while staying true to one’s self. This gets covered in about two episodes. It was really good to explore a story involving the true pioneers of disco – LGBTQIA+ members of color. In addition, it fits the overall story because it explores a running theme present both in the book and the show – female agency and validating one’s self.

Outside of the chemistry between Daisy Jones and Billy Dunne, the main draw of the show is the 70s-bluesy-style rock music. I’ve listened to the Aurora album – the Daisy Jones & The Six’s version of Fleetwood Mac’s iconic Rumors LP – a few times, and it’s good. Some of it feels like the 2010s’ perception of what 1970s music sounds like, especially with The Black Keys-like distorted guitars. I wouldn’t be shocked if that was the case because Blake Mills, Marcus Mumford, and Phoebe Bridgers are musicians who experienced success in the 2010s. In addition, Riley Keough (who plays Daisy) is a bit drowned out in the mixing. Considering that Daisy is the main reason for The Six’s success, one might try to emphasize that in the real album of the fake band. The best tracks evoked a more authentic interpretation of 1970s rock ‘n’ roll and have proper mixing when it comes to Daisy’s voice. This most likely has to do with the fact that two of the musicians involved Tony Berg (who was a session guitarist on many albums like The Rocky Horror Picture Show LP) and Jackson Browne were alive and working in the 1970s. My favorite tracks are “Let Me Down Easy,” “The River,” “Regret Me,” and “Look at Us Now (Honeycomb).”

As for the performances, I liked all of the actors cast in the show. They embodied the best and worst parts of their characters. Sam Clafin (best known for his performances in Me Before You and as Fiddnick Odair in the The Hunger Games film series) plays Billy Dunne – the lead singer and songwriter for The Six. I enjoyed seeing his struggle between his personal and professional life. At the same time, he can be very stubborn, in which Clafin conveys well. At first, I wasn’t a fan of his singing voice; it felt a little too nasally. But overtime, I realized that this fits the music Billy is creating for The Six and that Jackson Browne – one of the musicians involved in the real Aurora album – has a similar tone. I also was delighted whenever Riley Keough (who’s known for her performances in Mad Max: Fury Road, American Honey, and Logan Lucky) came on the screen as Daisy. The character can be tough to play because one has to embody her faults, why she became the way she did, and what makes her special as a musician. And, Keough does that well enough, yet I’ll always hear Jennifer Beals from the audiobook as Daisy’s real voice. I also can’t avoid talking about Keough’s singing since she is Elvis’s granddaughter. She sounds like a raspy Taylor Swift, especially on “Regret Me, and it works well with the music produced. 

The strongest performance belongs to Josh Whitehouse who takes on the role as Eddie Roundtree the bassist. Whitehouse – most notably for playing Hugh Armitage in the third and fourth seasons of Poldark – clearly conveys his character as disgruntled with what’s been given to him despite trying to be a team player. The confrontation that Eddie has with Billy about quitting the band is rightfully memorable, but the quieter moments are what make Whitehouse’s performance special. This is especially true when Eddie in the interview segment of the first episode reveals that he had feelings for Camila without saying a word (this was also not in the book). 

Another effective aspect of the performances is that all of the actors have great chemistry with one another. Since the story is about what leads up to the breakup of an uber-successful band, it’s important for the actors to communicate not only the tension, but also the love and why they stayed together for so long. And, all of the actors do that. They always feel comfortable around one another, especially in the scene in the diner, where The Six decide on their name. And yes, the chemistry between Keough and Clafin was undeniably good. They played off each other well, whether they are at each other’s throats, or are working amicably. I especially love the glances the actors give to each other during the recording session and concert scenes.

Despite my praise, I have a couple of complaints. One is obviously the wigs, particularly the ones used during the interview segments. They kind of look ridiculous, especially Timothy Oliphant’s (who plays Rod the tour manager) and they don’t make the actors look any older than their 70s counterparts. Luckily, those are compensated because they convey the world-weariness that comes with years of touring and reflecting on what happened through their body language and the tone of their voice. 

The other complaint that I have is that I wish that the show explored more of Graham and Karen’s relationship (played by Will Harrison and Suki Waterhouse). Yes, I know the show devotes two episodes to them coming to terms about their feelings for one another and another two episodes to their breakup brought on by Karen’s pregnancy scare. Yet, those segments needed some transition like a scene involving them talking about what they want to live their lives and how they see themselves as a couple because it felt like everything was going very well until Karen got pregnant. Considering how the show highlights Billy and Daisy’s relationship, the one between Symone and Bernie (one that’s not present in the book), and Eddie’s resentment of his place in the band in ten episodes, I feel that it could’ve fleshed out Graham and Karen’s relationship more.

All in all, the Amazon Prime series Daisy Jones & The Six is an adaptation that makes the novel by Taylor Jenkins Reid feel whole. Although it’s not perfect, I still enjoyed the music and performances. Moreover, it made changes to bring to life a story that definitely needed to be seen and heard as well as read. Amazon definitely picked the right show to do an intense marketing campaign on. Like with the book, I would recommend it to those who love 1960s and 1970s music and female protagonists who take charge of their destinies. It was worth seeing Daisy Jones & The Six’s assets on full display in the miniseries.

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Her She Lady: A Tribute to Womanhood Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given a free PDF copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

March is Women’s National History Month, but any time is a good time to honor women around the world from the past, present, and future. Anybody can celebrate their accomplishments and inspire others to do so. And this means everyone, including men. In fact, there are male allies. These are men who respect women and are willing to support them for their place at the table. There are male authors like Chris Bohjalian who are capable of depicting three-dimensional female characters. 

This brings us to today’s subject Her She Lady: A Tribute to Womanhood by Shah Asad Rizvi. Rizvi wrote the 103-poem collection not only to celebrate the women in every stage of their lives, but also to inspire them to value themselves and to find their wings. In addition, he wanted the male readers to read the poetry and cherish the presence of women and to honor their existence. After reading the poetry collection, it’s clear that Rizvi has a certain way of looking at women, but he respects and cherishes them just the same, and the poetry is just as accessible as his previous work.

While reading this collection, I was reminded of three songs: “Golden Hour” by JVKE, “Nice for What” by Drake, and the most obvious “She’s a Lady” by Tom Jones. All three of these tunes capture the moods presented by the poems in She Her Lady. “Golden Hour” communicates the awe and inspiring aspects of the poems as the JVKE and Rizvi are both taken in by the women around them. “Nice for What” portrays ladies as independent and goal-minded and reminds listeners that they don’t need to lower themselves to please the people around them. Not sacrificing who you are just to satisfy others is an idea that Rizvi stresses in different poems. Tom Jones in “She’s a Lady” tells everyone about his woman and how special she is because of her femininity and what she does for him. Rizvi also elevates the women in his poems in similar ways, but with less emphasis on him.

These poems have two main strengths. One of them is that they have a simple, elegant, and mostly non-rhyming language. Like Divan of Shah and The Book of Love, the poems are elevated for those who love poetry, yet obvious enough for those who are getting into the genre. The other pro to this collection is that Rizvi clearly cherishes women of all ages. The poems make it very clear that he respects them and expresses outrage of their mistreatment when possible. Considering that he was born in Pakistan, grew up in Japan, and currently lives in the United Arab Emirates – countries ranked on the lower end for gender equality according to World Economic Forum’s 2022 Global Gender Gap report, I appreciate that he’s willing to empower women as much as he can as well as to be angry about gender equality as much as they are. His best poems are often ones that acknowledge the struggles the ladies go through without being on a high horse. My favorite poems are “Inner Voice,” “Resolute,” “Mammoth,” “The Pedestal,” “Hegemony,” “Rights,” “Unconditional,” and “Amen.”

As for the cons, it displays the same one as his previous work in that he is espousing the same ideas but with different words in many of his poems. I’ll give a pass on this one since one of Rizvi’s objectives for this collection of poetry is to get men to appreciate women for who they are and what makes them special. Sometimes, people need to hear the same thing but in different ways in order to fully understand the whole idea. Also, some of the poems here are from Divan of Shah.

The main problems with this work are how he words his lines and that he has a specific idea on what women are. The poems use a language that can be found in makeup commercials. I know that this is not Rizvi’s intention, but there were times that the wording felt so surface level. For example, there was a poem called “Soar,” which contained this line: “you are the rain, the thunder, and the storm.”

I literally thought the next one was going to be about trying on waterproof mascara.  

Moreover, he equates womanhood with perfectionism. How do I know this? He says so in two separate poems, one called “Pioneer” and the other aptly named “Perfection.” This might be more of a me problem since I know that he’s not deliberately putting women on a pedestal. At the same time, in my review of The Shadow of Perseus, I talked about how feminism looks differently to everybody, and this applies here. Rizvi believes that women can do everything as long as they put their mind to it and not listen to the naysayers. He also acknowledges their sadness and suffering and how that is all part of surviving and learning how to overcome obstacles. There’s nothing wrong with all of those ideas. Like feminism, perfectionism looks differently to everybody as well. It’s just that years ago, I heard someone say that feminism was about drinking beer and scratching your butt like men do. In other words, feminism is all about women having agency and being human, even that means being flawed. I would’ve loved to have poems that discuss ladies and all of their flaws because everyone is imperfect regardless of what gender they are.

In conclusion, Her She Lady: A Tribute to Womanhood by Shah Asad Rizvi is another accessible poetry collection and definitely has the ability to empower those who read it. It’s apparent that Rizvi cherishes women, whether that’s a daughter, niece, sister, cousin, friend, lover, or mother, and is willing to support them. In other words, he is a good male ally even though he has a certain idea of them, specifically how they are and should be. Then, again feminism looks differently to everybody. Like Rizvi’s other poetry books, I would recommend this to those who love poetry and empowering women as well as to those who are getting into the genre. As a woman, I appreciate this collection as it gave me wings to expand more of my horizon whether that’s in books or promoting this website and my podcast. Thank you Shah Asad Rizvi for that!

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