Anissa M. Bouziane ’87 was born in Tennessee, the daughter of a Moroccan father and a French mother. She grew up in Morocco, but returned to the United States to attend Wellesley College, and went on to earn an MFA in fiction writing from Columbia University and a Certificate in Film from NYU. Currently, Anissa works and teaches in Paris, as she works to finish a PhD in Creative Writing at The University of Warwick in the UK. Dune Song is her debut novel. Follow her on Twitter: @AnissaBouziane.

Wellesley Underground’s Wellesley Writes it Series Editor, E.B. Bartels ’10 (who also got her MFA in writing from Columbia, albeit in creative nonfiction), had the chance to chat with Anissa via email about Dune Song, doing research, publishing in translation, forming a writing community, and catching up on reading while in quarantine. E.B. is especially grateful to Anissa for willing to be part of the Wellesley Writes It series while we are in the middle of a global pandemic.

And if you like the interview and want to hear more from Anissa, you can attend her virtual talk at The American Library tomorrow (Tuesday, May 26, 2020) at 17h00 (Central European Time). RSVP here.

EB: First, thank you for being part of this series! I loved getting to read Dune Song, especially right now with everything going on. I loved getting to escape into Jeehan’s worlds, though sort of depressing to think of post-9/11-NYC as a “simpler time” to escape to. My first question is: Reading your biography, I know that you, much like Jeehan, have moved back and forth between the United States and Morocco––born in the U.S.A., grew up in Morocco, and then back to the U.S.A. for college. You’ve also mentioned elsewhere that this book was rooted in your own experience of witnessing the collapse of the Twin Towers on 9/11. How much of your own life story inspired Dune Song?

AMB: Indeed, Dune Song is rooted in my own experience of witnessing the collapse of the Twin Towers on 9/11. As a New Yorker, who experienced the tragedy of that now infamous Tuesday in September almost 19 years ago, I would not have chosen the collapse of the World Trade Center as the inciting incident of my novel had I not lived through those events myself. So yes, much of what Jeehan, Dune Song’s protagonist, goes through in NYC is rooted in my own life experience. Nonetheless the book is not an autobiography — I would consider it more of an auto-fiction, that is a fiction with deep roots in the author’s experience. The New York passages speak of the difficulties of coming to terms with the tragedy that was 9/11 — out of principle, I would not have chosen 9/11 as the inciting incident of my novel if I did not have first hand experience of the trauma which I recount. 

EB: Thanks for saying that. I feel like there is a whole genre of 9/11 novels out there now and a lot of them make me uncomfortable because it feels like they are exploiting a tragedy. Dune Song did not feel that way to me. It felt genuine, like it was written by someone who had lived through it.

AMB: As for the desert passage that take place in Morocco, though I am extremely familiar with the Moroccan desert — and have traveled extensively from the dunes of Merzouga to the oasis of Zagora — this portion of the novel is totally fictional. That being said, I am one of those writers who rides the line between fiction and reality very closely, so if you ask me if I would ever let myself be buried up to my neck in a dune, the answer would be: yes. 

EB: How did the rest of the story come about? When and how did you decide to contrast the stories of the aftermath of 9/11 with human trafficking in the Moroccan desert?

AMB: Less than six months after 9/11, in March of 2002 I was invited back to Morocco by the Al Akhawayn University, an international university in the Atlas Mountains near the city of Fez. There I gave a talk which would ultimately provide me with the core of Dune Song: the chapter that takes place in the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, where following a mass in commemoration of the victims of the 9/11 attacks, an Imam from a Mosque in Queens was asked to recite a few verses from the Holy Quran. The Moroccan artists and academics present that day were deeply moved by my talk (which in fact simply recounted my lived experience); they told me that I should turn my talk into a novel. I thought the idea interesting and began to write, but within a year the Iraq War was launched and suddenly a story promoting dialogue and mutual understanding between the Islamic World and the West seemed to interest few, so I moved on to other things. Nonetheless, the core of Dune Song stayed with me.

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Go to Wellesley Underground for the complete conversation!

The post Wellesley Writes It: Anissa M. Bouziane appeared first on E.B. Bartels.

Patrice Caldwell ’15 is the founder & fundraising chair of People of Color in Publishing – a grassroots organization dedicated to supporting, empowering, and uplifting racially and ethnically marginalized members of the book publishing industry. Born and raised in Texas, Patrice was a children’s book editor before shifting to be a literary agent at Howard Morhaim Literary Agency.

In 2018, she was named a Publishers Weekly Star Watch honoree and featured on The Writer’s Digest podcast and Bustle’s inaugural “Lit List” as one of ten women changing the book world.

Her anthology, A Phoenix First Must Burn – 16 stories of Black girl magic, resistance, and hope – is out March 10, 2020 from Viking Books for Young Readers/Penguin Teen in the US/Canada and Hot Key Books in the UK! Visit Patrice online at patricecaldwell.com, Twitter @whimsicallyours, and Instagram @whimsicalaquarian.

Wellesley Underground’s Wellesley Writes it Series Editor, E.B. Bartels ’10, had the chance to converse with Patrice via email about publishing, reading, and writing. E.B. is grateful to Patrice for willing to be part of the Wellesley Writes It series, even with everything else she has going on!

EB: When did you first become interested in going into writing and publishing? Did something at Wellesley spark that interest?

PC: For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved writing. It’s how I best express myself. That love pretty naturally grew into creating stories. I’ve always had a very vivid imagination. I’ve also always been pretty aware that publishers exist. I remember at a young age noticing the logos on the spines of books (notating the imprint/publisher), so by the time I was a teen I could recall which publishers published my favorite books (served me very well in interviews, haha) and was curious about that process. But I was a theater kid, intensely, that’s what I thought I would do, but then I decided to go to Wellesley and majored in political science (especially theory—I took ever class Professor Grattan, she’s brilliant) but then dabbled in a bunch of other subjects, including English. I think English courses definitely strengthened my critical thinking, but I absolutely do not think you have to be an English or creative writing major in order to work in publishing or be a writer. My theater background is just as helpful as is my political theory one. (I have friends who are best-selling authors who did MFA programs and others who never went to college.)

Wellesley was my safe space. I came back to myself while at Wellesley. I wrote three (unpublished) manuscripts during my time there, starting the summer after my first year, and I held publishing and writing related internships. I also took a fantastic children’s literature course taught by Susan Meyer (who’s a children’s author herself!) that changed my world. I highly recommend it. We studied children’s literature, got to talk to an author and a literary agent, and we wrote our own stories. I later did a creative writing independent study with her, and I truly thank Professor Meyer for expanding my interest in writing and publishing.

EB: How did People in Color Publishing come about? What goals do you have for the organization? What would you like people to know about it?

PC: I founded People of Color in Publishing in August 2016 to allow people of color clearer access into the book publishing industry, better support networks, and professional development opportunities. It really is about sending the elevator back down for others after climbing (& maybe even assembling) the stairs.

We’re currently working towards nonprofit status. You can learn more about us and our initiatives at https://www.pocinpublishing.com/ and sign up for our newsletter, which is incredibly well done. As you’ll see when you visit the site, the organization really is a team effort. I don’t and couldn’t do this alone; I’ve had an amazing team with me from day one. We each play to our strengths and work really well together. (The org is very active on Instagram and Twitter, too!)

EB: I am really excited about your collection A Phoenix First Must Burn, coming out from Penguin Random House on March 10, 2020. What inspired you to put together that anthology? What was challenging about the process of compiling the anthology, and what was rewarding about it?

PC: Thank you; I’m so excited for it as well. I talk about this more in the book’s introduction, but I was inspired by my eternal love for Octavia Butler—the title even comes from a passage in Parable of the Talents—as well as similar adult market anthologies like Sheree R. Thomas’s Dark Matter, and wondering what one for teens would look like. The answer is power and imagination like I’ve never before seen, in the form of a kick-ass, #BlackGirlMagic anthology that’s hella queer—I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Before I became a literary agent, I was a children’s book editor. The editing of these stories was the easy part. It was super fun. The hard part was wrangling of everyone, haha. Thankfully they were amazing to work with and I wasn’t doing it alone—my then editor Kendra Levin also has a fantastic editorial eye.

As for what was rewarding, my younger self needed this. Like I said, it’s Black and queer. Since Toni Morrison passed, a day hasn’t gone by in which I’ve thought, about how she wrote for Black people, especially Black women, unapologetically. I feel that deeply. I got to work with some of my favorite writers writing today. How often does someone get to say that, you know. And, I grew a lot as a writer. I never thought I could write a short story, but I did. We’ve been getting some really great early reviews (like this beautifully-written starred review from Kirkus, OMG!) But going back to how my younger self needed this, the most rewarding thing has been the people who’ve reached out how excited they are to read it and how much they’ve been craving a book like this. It’s a dream come true. A dream I strategized to reach, worked my butt off on, and so yeah, I’m over the moon.

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Go to Wellesley Underground for the complete conversation!

The post Wellesley Writes It: Patrice Caldwell appeared first on E.B. Bartels.

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Diamond J. Sharp is a poet and essayist from Chicago. She has performed at Chicago’s Stage 773 and her work has been featured on Chicago Public Radio. She has been published in the New York Times Magazine, Vice, Pitchfork, Lenny, PANK, The Offing, Fjords, Winter Tangerine, JoINT Literary, Wellesley Review, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, BLACKBERRY and others. Sharp has been an editorial fellow at The Root, a features editor at Rookie, and a staff writer for Laundry Service. Her essay “Friends for Life” and her interview with Margo Jefferson were recently featured in Tavi Gevinson’s anthology Rookie on Love. A Callaloo fellow, Sharp has also attended the Wright/Hurston workshop, and is a member of the inaugural Poetry Foundation Incubator class. She has a B.A. from Wellesley College and an M.F.A. from the Pratt Institute. Sharp lives in Brooklyn.

The post Non-Fiction by Non-Men: Diamond J. Sharp appeared first on E.B. Bartels.

In case you forgot: My goal for 2015 is to read 50 books by women, with the majority of those by women of color.

In terms of numbers, 50% of fifty is twenty-five books, and, not only am I on track, I am ahead of the game at the moment––I just started book number twenty-seven this morning! This is a good thing since, as some of you may know, I will start teaching full-time at the end of August and will have less time for free reading (and also will have to read a lot of additional books for work––many of which, I’m guessing, will not be by women). So let’s get right to this update so I can get back to my books.

Here’s what I’ve read since my 1st Quarter Check-In:

13. The Boys of My Youth by Jo Ann Beard: Last I left you, I was about halfway through this collection of essays. When I finally got to the famous essay, “The Fourth State of Matter,” I was reading on a bench in the sun (despite the cold, as it was early April) outside of the Cambridge Public Library. I’d heard a lot about this essay, and in my typical cynical sense, I was prepared for it to be a let down or just a medium after so much hype from so many people. But I finished that essay, sitting on the bench in the sun, in the cold, and I felt gutted. I felt like Jo Ann Beard had ripped all my organs out and threw them in the snow. I haven’t had that powerful of a reaction to a piece of writing in a long time, and I walked back to my apartment from the library engrossed in thought, feeling like an empty shell, sort of listlessly drifting. It was an awesome feeling––awesome in the sense of awe-inspiring, not necessarily in the sense that I felt really good. In summary: read The Boys of My Youth for “The Fourth State of Matter” alone. Or just read “The Fourth State of Matter.” You have to.

14. Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine: Much like “The Fourth State of Matter,” I had heard a lot about this book before I read it––I had even heard Claudia Rankine speak at the AWP Conference in Minneapolis this April––and, again, I was not disappointed. I was completely blown away. I love how Claudia Rankine defies any sort of straightforward genre––this book is at once personal essay, poetry, cultural criticism, art criticism, history, and myth––and how she incorporates her own personal story as a Black woman in America with the larger story of racism in America. I feel like I’m just rambling right now, but the point is that I can’t really explain this book, but it is one of the most powerful, intense things I have ever read in my whole life. You just have to read it to get it. Also, this book confirmed my feelings that everything that Graywolf Press publishes is pure gold.

15. Wallflower at the Orgy by Nora Ephron: I was beginning to feel like a failure of a Wellesley alumna for how little Nora Ephron I had read. Yeah, I had seen You’ve Got Mail and Sleepless in Seattle. Yeah, I’d read some of her profiles and essays, but I had yet to sit down and read through one of her books. And I’m so glad that I did––my favorite thing about getting to read a whole group of Nora Ephron’s journalistic essays in a row is to see how even when the first person narrator is absent, her personality and dry, witty tone is evident. I finished Wallflower at the Orgy and immediately wanted to start I Feel Bad About My Neck, but then I got worried that “fifty books by women” would quickly turn into “fifty books by Nora Ephron.”

16. Nothing To Do With Me by Sarah Xerta: As a prose writer of nonfiction and a personal essay junkie, I’m not drawn to a lot of poetry, but I am trying to read more of it because it helps my brain think about language differently. I picked up Sarah Xerta’s book because I had the pleasure of meeting her at the AWP Conference, as she is friends with my buddy Tuck, and I am so happy I read Nothing To Do With Me because Sarah Xerta’s poetry was an incredible reminder about the beauty and intense power of concise language and specific words themselves. So many of these poems are like a quick blow to the head––they left me dazed and reeling and amazed. Sarah Xerta is a genius, and, as I know from having the good fortune to meet her, a lovely human as well. A really great book by a really great person.

17. Ms. Marvel, Vol. 1: No Normal by G. Willow Wilson: I heard that the new reboot of Ms. Marvel had cast the superhero as a teenage Pakistani Muslim girl from New Jersey, which I thought was pretty awesome, and I wasn’t disappointed by the series. I love how Kamala Khan is just an average teenager, dealing with friendship angst and school drama and strict parents with high expectations. This book was a fun break from some of the heavier work I have been reading, and what I loved the most was that Kamala Khan wasn’t a “strong female character.” She is just a girl, who can be strong, but also can be weak and confused and unsure of herself. In summary, she is just a regular old girl, to whom I am sure a lot of teenage girls can relate. I would have been obsessed with the series in high school, for sure.

18. for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf by Ntozake Shange: I had seen parts of the movie For Colored Girls, but I had never read the original poem-play that inspired the film. I’d like to take a moment here to remind all of you (and inform those of you who don’t know) that once upon a time I was really into theatre and writing plays, and I think in the third quarter I want to try to read some more plays by women, because reading for colored girls stirred up something inside of me that remembered just how powerful words can be when paired with movement and action. This poem-play in particular is simultaneously beautiful and heartbreaking, and the way that Ntozake Shange has seven women perform the words of her poetry––it is inspiring. This book is also an incredible resource for understanding just how race and class play an enormous role in feminism.

19. China Men by Maxine Hong Kingston: I never said that I would read fifty books by fifty different women, and I am glad about that, because I am obsessed with Maxine Hong Kingston. I heard about China Men in a lecture at the AWP Conference on imagination and speculation in nonfiction––about how Maxine Hong Kingston was able to craft these beautiful, vivid, incredible stories based on the little information and few concrete facts she had about her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather’s experiences as Chinese immigrants in the U.S.A. Clearly she done her research––the book is full of rich details from the time periods––and she has read the stories of men similar to the men in her family, but the way she is able to float between myth and legend and fact is goddamn INCREDIBLE and something to be admired. I can’t wait to read The Woman Warrior next.

20. The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson: Everything I wrote about Claudia Rankine’s Citizen can pretty much apply to The Argonauts, except that instead of exploring race in America, Maggie Nelson is exploring gender and sexuality. Again, Maggie Nelson completely defies any kind of standard nonfiction form––she has poetic vignettes mixed up with philosophical analysis interspersed with personal anecdotes. What I really love though is how Maggie Nelson uses her own family’s tale––her relationship with the gender-fluid Harry Dodge, Harry’s son from a previous relationship, and the son that she and Harry have together with the help of a sperm donor––to explore gender, queerness, and the concept of family. Once again, Graywolf kills it.

21. Exit Wounds by Rutu Modan: I got into the Israeli graphic novelist Rutu Modan because I used to intern at the Frances Goldin Literary Agency in New York––the agency that represents her. Exit Wounds is Rutu Modan’s earlier book, and while I enjoyed it a lot, I think I liked her newer book The Property more. However, it’s completely worth the read, and I like how her stories always seem to involve some element of family mystery––the things left unsaid, the things you have to figure out after someone dies, the things that get forgotten.

22. Ms. Marvel, Vol. 2: Generation Why by G. Willow Wilson: This is the second installment of the Ms. Marvel reboot. Kamala Khan’s adventures continue, and I found Vol. 2 just as enjoyable as Vol. 1 (see my review above).

23. Blacks by Gwendolyn Brooks: I’d like to take a moment to shout out to my friend, fellow Wellesley alumna, and fellow writer Diamond Sharp, who compiled this really great list of Black feminist books for The Root. In an attempt to try not to be less of a Problematic White Feminist and to diversify the group of women writers I read (sorry, Nora Ephron, you’re great and all but…) I have been using Diamond’s list for recommendations, which included Gwendolyn Brooks’s classic (and giant) collection of poetry and prose-poems. Again, like with Sarah Xerta’s book, it was exciting to read poetry and get into a different mindset about language, but don’t pick up this 500+ page book and think “Oh, poetry! I’ll fly through this!” You have to sit with Gwendolyn Brooks’s poetry. You have to read her poems, and then reread them, and then think about them, and then go back to them again. The hardest thing about Blacks, though, was how much of Gwendolyn Brooks’s critique of sexism and racism is still 100% completely relevant today. Reading it in 2015, I often felt like her poems were about current events. It was a depressing feeling.

24. Beloved Beasts: Animal Mummies from Ancient Egypt by Salima Ikram: So when I set my reading challenge for 2015, I didn’t say I would only read books by women in 2015, because I figured that I would have to read some things for my writing research and for work that were written by old white dudes––basically just anything I am choosing to read this year as a “free reading” type book needs to be by a woman to hit my goal of fifty. But! Lucky for me! I’ve been doing lots of dead pet research for some new essays, and in reading about animal mummification, I’ve had the chance to read a lot of Salima Ikram‘s work, which is awesome, because she is a total badass. She is a professor of Egyptology at the American University of Cairo, and she has more or less on her own taken on reviving and restoring the Egypt Museum’s collection of animal mummies through the Animal Mummy Project.

25. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches by Audre Lorde: Just as with Maxine Hong Kingston, thank god I decided not to read fifty different women writers, because I want to go and read everything Audre Lorde has ever written. The day I actually started Sister Outsider––a book I had heard so much about and had been planning to read forever––I was interviewing Cris Beam for my NON-FICTION BY NON-MEN column on Fiction Advocate (stay tuned for that interview to go up later this month), and she mentioned that her favorite quote of nonfiction by a woman writer was Audre Lorde’s line: “Your silence will not protect you.” Remember how I felt reading “The Fourth State of Matter” by Jo Ann Beard? That’s how I felt reading all of Sister Outsider. I had chills the entire time. Again, just like with Blacks by Gwendolyn Brooks, I was distraught by how much of what Audre Lorde was writing about in the 1970s is still 100% applicable to today’s problems of racism and sexism. I underlined and put stars next to most lines of the book. Audre Lorde articulates so clearly, beautifully, what it means to be a truly intersectional feminist and a good person, and I am going to write out and hang one million quotes by her over my writing desk. I want the whole text of Sister Outsider tattooed all over my body so I never forget a word. In her essay “The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action,” one line in particular (though there were so many lines I loved) I think sums up what I am trying to do with my fifty books by women goal:

…where the words of women are crying to be heard, we must each of us recognize our responsibility to seek those words out, to read them and share them and examine them in their pertinence to our lives.

26. feminism is for everybody: passionate politics by bell hooks: Just like Sister Outsider, I know that this book will be one that I return to again and again for feminist guidance. While bell hooks uses more academic jargon than Audre Lorde, and I love how Audre Lorde bases so much of her feminist theory in personal stories, bell hooks does a great job at breaking down complicated feminist ideas into fairly simple, colloquial language and summarizing the history of the movement, where we need to go from here, and arguing why feminism is beneficial for everybody. This book is an excellent manual for anyone who considers themselves a feminist (which should be everybody) or an ally of women. Read it!

27. She’s Not There: A Life in Two Genders by Jennifer Finney Boylan: This is the book I just started this morning. I’m not very far along at all (page five), but I’m really excited about this one because I recently interviewed Jennifer Finney Boylan for my NON-FICTION BY NON-MEN column. Look for that interview in September, and in the mean time, read her memoir along with me!

Now for the statistical tallies. I think I am doing a little better than I was in the first quarter. Trying to stick to this resolution, I’ve really noticed how much of an effort it takes to read books by under-represented groups––not that there aren’t as many great books out there by women, people of color, and queer people as there are by men and white people. Trust me, there are TOO many great books out there by women, people of color, and queer people; I have massive, massive, massive piles of books by women to read all around my apartment right now and am feeling overwhelmed by all the fantastic recommendations I’ve received. But it’s interesting that when people don’t know about my resolution, and they recommend a book for me to read, more often than not it’s by a white man (ex: Stalin’s Children by Owen Matthews), and if they do know about my resolution, more often than not it’s by a white woman (ex: How To Build A Girl by Caitlin Moran). Books by white people get a lot more attention, and, therefore, they’re the books more people know about, and, therefore, the books that more people recommend. This is something I knew before this year, but it’s certainly an important reminder to see it played out so obviously.

Anyway, out of the fourteen books I finished reading this quarter, seven were written by women of color. This is not the majority––as is my goal––but again, like last time around, it is a solid 50%. I need to do better with that. Though one area where I have improved is reading more books by queer women. Though I didn’t explicitly state this goal in my New Year’s Resolution, I also want to read more books by queer, gender queer, and trans women because reading books by queer, gender queer, and trans women makes sense if my goal is to read books by under-represented groups of writers. Only one book from my first quarter was written by an openly queer woman, but this time around, out of the fifteen books mentioned in this post, four were written by openly queer, gender queer, or trans women. That’s not great statistic-wise, but it’s an improvement.

So, again, IN SUMMARY: I’m doing okay, but I could be doing even better.

P.S. If you can’t wait until the end of the third quarter to see what I’m reading, follow me on GoodReads.

The post 2015 Reading Challenge: 2nd Quarter Check-In appeared first on E.B. Bartels.

In case you forgot: My goal for 2015 is to read 50 books by women, with the majority of those by women of color.

In terms of numbers, 25% of fifty is 12.5, and I’m right on track––halfway through book number thirteen. However, some may argue that I’ve cheated a little by including a couple of young adult books and graphic novels. Plus I also read a short story and an essay that were masquerading as books, so maybe I’m not doing quite as well as I thought, but you all can decide for yourselves and judge me in the comments.

Here’s what I’ve read so far in 2015:

1. The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison: I am totally in love with badass women essayists, and Jamison is at the top of my current list. She does that thing that I love of combining a personal experience with historical/cultural research and commentary, and I think Jamison is brilliant at it. So many excellent essays in here, but I think my favorite was “In Defense of Saccharin(e).”

2. Embroideries by Marjan Satrapi: Satrapi is the author of Persepolis, her memoir about growing up in Iran after the Iranian revolution. Compared to Persepolis, Embroideries has less of a straightforward narrative storyline––the book depicts a group of women who are friends, family, and neighbors, drinking tea together and sharing stories from their lives. The dialogue is energetic, and I enjoyed bouncing between the different stories and learning about the lives of women in Iran.

3. The Tarantula in My Purse and 172 Other Wild Pets by Jean Craighead George: I read this entire book out loud so many times to the Babysitting Charge that I felt I had to count it. George is an epic YA author, and I had never read any of her nonfiction before, but I loved seeing where she got the inspiration for so many of her YA books. Who knew she had so many wild pets of her own? My only complaint: no wolves. I mean, isn’t she most famous for her YA novel Julie of the Wolves? Sheesh.

4. The Embassy of Cambodia by Zadie Smith: This was the short story disguised as a book. I got halfway through the story and realized that I had already read it when it first appeared in The New Yorker, and I had simply been deceived by the cute little single-story European edition. Great job, marketing team. (Okay, I guess it is a stretch letting this one count, especially since I had read the story before.)

5. Bad Feminist: Essays by Roxane Gay: I still can’t stop thinking about this book. Gay discusses so incredibly what it means to be a human––a well-intentioned, messy, flawed, contradictory human. I really loved the personal essays in this collection. A few of the reviews dragged for me, especially when they were about something I hadn’t read or seen and/or don’t care about, but, over all, I wanted to start rereading this book as soon as I finished. I think that Gay’s version of feminism should be adopted as essential feminism. I hope it becomes mainstream feminism. Plus she made me feel better for identifying as a feminist but also loving Jay-Z.

6. Yes Please by Amy Poehler: Poehler is the best––smart, thoughtful, brutally honest, and hilarious. There were times while reading that this book that it felt rushed, as if Poehler’s agent and publisher had been thinking HEY HURRY UP WE GOT TO GET ON THIS WOMEN IN COMEDY MEMOIR BANDWAGON ASAP (see: Bossy Pants by Tina Fey, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me by Mindy Kaling, etc.) But I was willing to forgive that, and some of the chapters that felt more like filler (the lists, the haikus), just because I love Poehler so much. I might be biased though, because I think you will especially appreciate this book if you’re from the Greater Boston Area. It brought back so many memories of my teenage days at the Burlington Mall and childhood birthdays at Chadwick’s. Yes, I do love Poehler, even if I am from Lexington, and she is just “Burlington trash.” (Rachel Dratch knows what I’m talking about.)

7. Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: I’ve been in such a nonfiction black hole for the past two-and-a-half years, that it is always fun and refreshing when I read a novel for a change. This is such a great story, with characters I really cared about and grew to know. Plus Adichie is funny as hell and sharp and smart, and I love her commentary on race and racism in America, woven into the plot so seamlessly and thoughtfully. I get what all the fuss was about. This book is excellent.

8. Selfish, Shallow, and Self-Absorbed: Sixteen Writers on Their Decision Not To Have Kids, edited by Meghan Daum: I wrote a whole review of this anthology for Fiction Advocate that will go up on April 16. Stay tuned.

9. Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened by Allie Brosh: This book is neurotic, weird, amazing, and perfect. Just read it. Any way I try to explain it will sound crazy––it’s not quite a graphic novel, it’s not just illustrated essays, it’s something much more. I still laugh to myself just thinking about the chapter about how dogs don’t understand moving.

10. Hammer Head: The Making of a Carpenter by Nina MacLaughlin: I think this book is my pick for favorite so far of 2015. I’m definitely biased because I’ve met MacLaughlin, I think she is awesome, and we also went to the same high school (good ol’ Noble & Greenough––she was class of 1997, I was class of 2006). BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT I don’t care, this book is SO FANTASTIC. Perhaps I loved it so much just because this is something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately: how writing is all in your head, your eyes on a computer screen, how out of touch you are with actual reality, and also trying to find other work to balance out all the writing that uses a different part of your brain, that makes you feel good and happy and accomplished in another way, maybe a job that gets you outside…. MacLaughlin seems to have found the perfect balance, and has written a kick-ass book about it all. Plus, just like Jamison, MacLaughlin adds in so many interesting historical and cultural elements to her own personal story. I know all about the history of screwdrivers now!

11. If You Could Be Mine by Sara Farizan: This is another book written by a Nobles alumna––Farizan was class of 2003, and she was a senior when I was a freshman, and so, of course, I always thought she was super cool. Now I think she is even cooler for having written this book. This novel has a great message about staying true to who you are, despite horrific circumstances, but also about how life doesn’t always have a fairy tale ending. I was thrilled while reading it to see a realistic and thoughtful book for young adults as opposed to so much of the saccharine happily ever after YA crap out there. So much stuff marketed to young adults is dumbed down and superficial, and kids pick up on that and hate it. They can handle important, heavy subject matter, and, in fact, already think about it, even if a lot of the stuff targeting them doesn’t show it. I think it’s great that Farizan has taken intense, big issues––such as sexuality and gender identity and feminism and politics––and put them in a book for kids.

12. We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: This was the essay disguised as a book. In fact, it’s actually Adichie’s famous TED Talk about feminism––expanded and edited––bound beautifully. Whoops. Again, probably a stretch to count this, but Adichie is brilliant and eloquent and every god damn person in the WORLD needs to read the 48 pages of this slim little book.

13. The Boys of My Youth by Jo Ann Beard: Currently reading this one. I’m about halfway through this collection, which every person who writes nonfiction ever has told me to read. No, I haven’t gotten to the essay “The Fourth State of Matter” yet, but I hear that’s the really good one.

As for my goal of reading a majority of books by women of color, I need to do better. Out of the twelve books I’ve finished reading, six were by women of color, though two of those were by the same woman (Adichie). As for the essay anthology (Selfish, Shallow, and Self-Absorbed), out of seventeen contributors, only three were people of color (17.6%), and saying that I’ve read 6.176 books by women of color is just pathetic in a grasping-at-straws way to hit the majority, so I’m going to let that one go. Besides, three of the seventeen contributors in that anthology were men, so if we’re splitting hairs here, in that way, I’ve also only technically read 11.824 books by women so far in 2015. Yeah. Let’s not do that.

IN SUMMARY: I’m doing okay, but I definitely could be doing a lot better.

P.S. If you can’t wait until the end of the second quarter to see what I’m reading, follow me on GoodReads.

P.P.S. This is not an April Fools Day joke.

The post 2015 Reading Challenge: 1st Quarter Check-In appeared first on E.B. Bartels.

In 2015, my goal is to read 50 books by women, with the majority of those by women of color. (Tweet me recommendations at @eb_bartels, or comment on this post!)

My other goal is to read The New Yorker as soon as I get it in the mail, instead of just adding it to the big old pile of unread New Yorker magazines on my desk.

Oh, and to go to the gym or whatever.

The post Just Some Goals for 2015 appeared first on E.B. Bartels.