Skyward Issue 1

I recently enjoyed the first issue of a new series from Image Comics by writer Joe Henderson and artist Lee Garbett. So far, it's an intriguing and brightly-colored post-apocalyptic introduction, and I'm curious to see where it will go from here.
Protagonist Willa was only a baby when the world changed, gravity suddenly lowered so that everything and everyone not tied down floats endlessly upwards. Now, she's an energetic and confident 20-year-old, and this is the only world she's ever known. Her father is a marked contrast, tied down by his fears and loss.
So far, this issue is mostly introductions to a palette of secondary characters and a chance to acclimatize to this new world and its unique challenges, with only the hints of any stronger plot to come.
The color scheme is joyful and vibrant with wide open spaces, large and dynamic panel arrangements, and, of course, lots of vivid blue sky. It's particularly fun to see Willa's hair floating wildly in various directions; it feels like a consistent detail that helps to make her a part of her world and to make that world real. It remains to be seen how compelling future issues will be, and whether they will be able to entertain as well once the bright luster of a brand-new world has worn thin, but I'm looking forward to finding out.

Circe

I just finished reading Madeline Miller's Circe, another Parnassus Book Club pick, and I really loved this book. I read it in just a few days, despite all the schoolwork I should've been doing during that time. The ending moved me to tears, not because of a tragic end, but rather because the book was over, and I had to move on with my life.
Miller traces her way through a significant portion of Greek mythological history and epic poetry through the eyes of Circe. Circe is mainly known for her role in delaying Odysseus on his epic journey home, but Miller creates a powerful feminist figure in a world populated by gods, monsters, magic, and men. Told in the first person entirely from Circe's viewpoint, Miller's characters breathe personality and life, and her world bleeds violence and fear and power. Her prose was descriptive and utterly enthralling; I was desperate to keep reading the entire time. From the tensions (and politics) between the Titans and the Olympians, the tales of Daedalus, the Minotaur, and Medea, to the events of the Odyssey, years of Greek story flow by Circe's secluded island of Aiaia. This book tickles all those half-remembered memories of Greek and Classical mythology and Homerian epics that you forgot about and brings them back in a way that brings new narratives forward.

Back to School

I've enjoyed my trimester in Ireland. I climbed to the top of a round tower in Kilkenny (too tall, 8/10, would not climb again), saw 23 performances, and met 8 published authors. Overall, I'm really glad I did it, although I am currently bemoaning the fact that I still won't get a real break from school work until Thanksgiving.
The two weeks break between my summer and fall trimester has given me time to do a lot of reading that is not remotely related to class or Ireland. I enjoyed Chemistry by Weike Wang, Do Not Become Alarmed by Maile Meloy, and Mrs. Fletcher by Tom Perrotta. I also reread one of my favorite webcomics, Megan Lavey-Heaton and Isabelle Melançon's Namesake, from the beginning again. If you enjoy cute fantasy webcomics, Namesake is certainly one to check out. It includes plentiful references to Baum's Oz books, Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, as well as mentioning other childhood stories like Peter Pan, "Rumpelstiltskin", and "Jack the Giant-Killer".
I devoured Jeff VanderMeer's compelling and bizarre Southern Reach trilogy: Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance. I had some difficulty figuring out what genre the books ought to be. Annihilation won a Nebula Award in 2015 for Best Novel, and the Nebula Award is often referred to as a science fiction award, but it is voted on by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America and given to works of both the science fiction and fantasy genres. Science fiction is probably the best genre to place the Southern Reach trilogy in as a whole, but I'm still not entirely satisfied with that categorization. Annihilation is told from the perspective of the biologist on a four woman expedition to explore Area X. At first, it reminded me of Arthur C. Clarke's Rama series and John Varley's Gaia books, but it quickly became more of a horror story, and the unreliability of the narrator only added to the confusion. With so many unanswered questions, I immediately had to go on to the second book, Authority, which is narrated by John Rodriguez. This book is set in the Southern Reach agency that has been sending the expeditions into Area X and reads a bit like a mystery novel. This was my favorite book in the trilogy and contains a creepy scene that horrified me more than anything in the first book. The conclusion of the trilogy, Acceptance, is written from the viewpoint of various characters at different times and ties the entire trilogy together cohesively.
The 2016 Nebula Awards Best Novel, Naomi Novik's Uprooted, was also an entertaining read. In the first chapter, I was very concerned that the story was going to be a bit formulaic and bland, but those fears were soon laid to rest. As the tension built, later in the book, I became afraid that it would end in the middle of some dramatic event, only for me to learn that it was the first book in a series. Luckily, it's a standalone novel, her first in this particular fantasy universe, and you get all of the exciting action in the one book.
After reading Uprooted, I decided to reread Novik's Temeraire books, beginning with His Majesty's Dragon. I'm currently in the middle of the sixth book, Tongues of Serpents. My thoughts while reading this series are mostly something along the lines of "Where can I find the TV show?". This series would make a fantastic TV show--it's set in a steampunk alternate version of the Napoleonic Wars with dragons. This ought to appeal to the same audiences as Game of Thrones. It's during a war, so there's even some amount of character death and gore, although not quite on the same level as GoT; this show could be a lot more fun. There's politics, dragons, action scenes, dragons, ethics, dragons, and a protagonist who has a lot to learn. I'm waiting.

Expectations and Observations

Expectations I

Home is the place I can predict.
Away is the place I cannot.

To learn what home is, I leave.
I remind myself:
There are going to be surprises,
unexpected changes,
last-minute reshuffling of plans,
and maybe it will be good,
or possibly it will be bad,
but you certainly won’t die from it.
And then I forget
and predict the unpredictable.
I prophesy catastrophe:

I will misspell

my own name

on the customs forms,

be thrown into Irish airport jail,

never again to see the light of day.

The ATM will eat my debit card.

My purse will be stolen.

I will wander the streets destitute.

All of Ireland will have

neither restaurants nor grocery stores.

I will starve.

I will forget something

profoundly important

and expire on the spot.

A frenetic exorcism of my anxieties,

named and enumerated,

they wind themselves into a spring,

knot themselves into

the muscles of my shoulders and neck,

part of me now.

A bit of the unpredictable is diminished. 

Landing, somehow, I have not yet died
(of embarrassment,
starvation,
or heights),
been robbed,
or been voted off the island.

Away is the place I cannot predict.

Observations

Bins for recycling are not often seen.
Mail drop-off boxes are painted bright green.
Jars of nut butter are buried in stores.
Coins aren’t just change; they’re worth a bit more.
Everyone smokes; thick fumes choke the air.
Street signs are hidden; lost tourists beware.
Clothing is labeled to “KEEP AWAY FROM FIRE”.
Trash bags are strewn on the street to admire.
Drinking is legal; let the taps flow.
A butty, not a biscuit, is a breakfast to go.
No one packs water; they buy it to drink.
Hot chocolate comes with marshmallows, and they’re probably pink.

Expectations II

Among the familiar, I am a known quantity.
Everyone has already decided who I am, locked me into a box, lovingly written a label on top.
Their expectations choke, piling like stones on my chest.

Leave the place I know and am known.
Flee the familiar.

Alone and unknown, I become multiple.

I might be almost anyone:
Someone’s granddaughter
Just another lost American
Old enough to treat as an adult
Still a child
Confident and belonging
Lost and uncertain
Silent and occupied
Talkative storyteller
Awkward and ignorant
Victim of a tragic backstory
Beneficiary of a promising future

Don’t become familiar.
Once is enough.

The freedom of anonymity beckons from the crowd.