urban

Shadowfever

brittany — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

How do I review Shadowfever by Karen Marie Moning? Do I caution readers about the fact that it is book five in a five book series? That previous events are not described and characters come into play with little explanation? Or do I discuss how enthralled I was by the story? How I could not put it down, even without understanding a lot of the plot?

The plot of Shadowfever is hard to describe. The main character, Mackayla Lane, or Mac, came to Dublin to find out who killed her sister in the first book, Darkfever. Not long after she arrived, the walls between the human world and the fairy world fell, bringing together both good and bad fairies, the Seelies and the Unseelies. It destroyed Dublin as the two groups fought each other and the humans. Over the course of the series, Mac learns about her sister’s life, about her own past and its connection to the fairy world and the keepers of the magic, and meets her lover, Jerricho Barrons. Shadowfever brings her story to its conclusion.

Much of the book is hard to follow, if only because the elements are unfamiliar. The book opens with Mac mourning the death of Barrons. The scene is long and painful, but without knowing who Barrons is, it has little impact. Mac has to find the Sinsar Duhb, which is both a book and a sentient being. There is lots of fighting between the various groups looking for the book, and without a chart, it was hard to follow the various groups, between the Seelie, the Unseelie, the Druids, the Abbey, and the humans. The narrator even changes without warning.

But, despite all of this, I was hooked on this book. Once I was able to situate myself in the story, I had a good sense of the characters and the basic plot. Mac is a wonderful character, strong, powerful, and complicated. All of the other characters, good and bad, fairy and human, are interesting, if leaning a bit too much toward “perfect,” “complicated,” and “sexy.” Still, trying to figure out who they were was interesting.

If you are a fan of urban fantasy, I recommend the Fever series, but I would start with the first one.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, April 10th 2011

MILK (5/1/2010)

admin — Wed, 05 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

HERE Arts Center

New York, New York

Emily DeVoti’s provocative two-act play, MILK, opens in a spare farmhouse kitchen. It’s 1984. Ronald Reagan has just been elected US president and local newscasters seem to have nothing good to report. Meg (played by Jordan Baker), a former mathematician who loves precision and order, and her husband Ben (Jon Krupp), a former investigative reporter, are sitting at the table and talking, but it’s the kind of tense conversation that can quickly turn from controlled anger to fierce argument.

Things are bad, very bad. A drought has made dairy production virtually impossible, and land that’s been in Meg’s family for centuries is now on the cusp of foreclosure. On top of this, their college-aged daughter—who is never seen but is referenced at key moments in the play—wants to be an actress and their fourteen-year-old son Matt (Noah Robbins) wants material things his parents cannot possibly afford: name-brand sneakers, CDs, a bedside color TV, and stylish clothes, among them. Worse, there’s a city slicker on the prowl, and he’s made no bones about wanting to “help” Meg and Ben ease their financial woes. Ben thinks it’s good idea, "a gift from God"; Meg doesn’t.

Ben wins.

By the time businessman James (Peter Bradbury) and his teenaged daughter, Veronica (Anna Kull), arrive on the scene—in a private plane, no less—things have deteriorated even further. But James couldn't care less about the family’s personal difficulties. Instead, he’s turning his managerial acumen to improving the farm’s productivity. Although he knows nothing about cows, he hatches a plan that, on paper, will foster unprecedented growth and save the day: importing “wild, hairy, horned” bulls to impregnate the many heifers dotting the pastoral landscape.

As you have probably guessed, things don’t pan out as James—or Ben or a reluctant Meg—expect. While the second act of the play is far weaker than the first, the excellent cast, including Caroline Baeumler as Auroch, a talking bovine the Program Notes describe as “quite possibly the last living wild cow,” briefly explore a number of evocative themes including monetary pressures; urban versus rural lifestyles; marital fidelity; self-sacrifice; coming of age; and the festering ache that often accompanies keeping silent about things that matter.

In fact, by the time Veronica tearfully confides her father’s secrets to Matt, the pathos is so intense that James instantly morphs into someone less repugnant. In the end, while we may revile Matt politically, DeVoti renders him a multidimensional personality who is deserving of compassion.

There are no easy answers in MILK. Indeed, as the world changes, some customs and practices inevitably become obsolete and are replaced by newer rituals and activities. The key is figuring out which pieces of cultural and personal history to retain and which to let go.

At one point, Meg looks into a bucket of unpasteurized milk and declares that “the pure stuff, it corrupts so easily.” Maybe so. MILK asks its viewers to think about what’s negotiable and what isn’t. Regardless of what is ultimately decided, one thing is certain: after watching this well-executed play, urban audiences will think about cows in a whole new way.

Photo credit: Jim Baldassare

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, May 5th 2010

Teatime in Bombay Earrings

admin — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 09:37:00 +0000

By Teatime in Bombay Earrings

Swingy, playful and pretty, the Teatime in Bombay Earrings also work well for cocktail time in Manhattan. Equally attractive is the quality construction and affordable price. The intricate and slightly edgy white metal design is contrasted by the more classical ladylike dangling faux gemstone beads in sapphire and amber.

As a collector of earrings, I have many pairs in my jewelry box from which to choose, and I found myself wearing these over and over again because they look great with a little black dress, a garden party frock, or just a plain old t-shirt and jeans. They are lightweight, visually interesting, and original. More than a few women complimented me, and asked where I’d purchased them.

Jewelry designer Jazmine Bowe describes her Stars + Rocks creations as urban, glam, and gypsy in sensibility. I found myself loving her entire collection, which also includes bracelets and necklaces. She thinks of fun names for her pieces—Country Club Lush, Saloon Girl, Circus of Life, and Good Karma—most of which can be had for under $20.

Bowe's fun and trendy jewelry exudes her imagination, and I am so happy to have discovered this particular designer because she accomplishes this dramatically stylish mood without crossing the line into tacky territory. Stars + Rocks jewelry looks and feels very upscale chic: the strong, confident, city girl is also a glamorous gal. Prepare to be dazzled by the bauble-icious wonders from this very talented designer!

Written by: Cheryl Reeves, October 15th 2009

Where the Girls Are: Urban Lesbian Erotica

admin — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 17:05:00 +0000

Edited by D.L. King

cleis

When I first began reading Where the Girls Are, I thought I had made a mistake. As I turned the pages of the first short story, Charlotte Dare’s “The Critic,” I thought, “This must be doing nothing for me because I’m not a lesbian.” Oh-oh. Fortunately, things changed as I moved on to the following stories. It turns out “The Critic” just wasn’t very good.

This compilation of short stories is satisfying on numerous levels—there is variety of length, fetish, pace, style, and even talent. We cruise through night clubs, BDSM initiations, taxis, butt plugs, whips, cityscapes, cocktails, and a rushed stint through the backstage of a fashion show. We’re even introduced to a ‘50s pinup lookalike in these pieces of “true tales and explicit fiction.”

Lisabet Sarai’s “Rush Hour” is my favorite. Unpredictable from start to finish, riveting and fun, it’s a non-cheesy tale of opposites attracting that puts you right in the cab with Ruth and Mina. Both characters are bold, independent, and snarky—just the way I like them.

Kathleen Bradean’s “Don’t Fuck with Country Girls” also positively stands out. From the very first sentence, I was drawn in with a smile on my face. I mean, how could you not love a story that begins, “My clit is fat and sassy.”—impossible. Plus, it’s (sort of) a story about two people who meet on the internet. Story of my life.

Of course, I also have complaints. I was positively appalled as I sat on the toilet reading “The City Pony” by Roxy Katt. Granted, there are no actual ponies in the story, but this is the closest thing to zoophilia I have ever read (not that I have searched). Apart from that, it is a long, dull story filled with dialogue both corny and forced, and it ends exactly how you think it will. Feel free to skip it, if only because it just can’t be healthy to roll your eyes for seventeen straight pages.

Other than that, Where the Girls Are overflows with tantalizing tales of both rural and urban girls gone wild in the city—but not in the raunchy sense. Okay, yes, in the raunchy sense. But I don’t think I read anything about cameras.

Written by: Natalia Real, September 5th 2009

American Studies (Volume 48, Number 2): Homosexuals in Unexpected Places?

admin — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 17:02:00 +0000

Edited by David M. Katzman, Sherrie J. Tucker, Norman R. Yetman

American Studies Association

In this special issue of American Studies, the editors promise a review that will challenge the preconceived notions of “metronormativity” in the LGBT community. From Dartmouth in the 1920s, to the work camps of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), to the eroticization of the rural male in the work of a visual artist, to Small Town USA, the gays are everywhere. What is surprising about this is that we’re supposed to find this surprising.

In the introduction to this issue, Colin R. Johnson, Assistant Professor of Gender Studies at Indiana University, introduces us to the concept of metronormativity, the idea that queer spaces are somehow solely urban. Unfortunately, this concept is not one that has ever been taken seriously in queer studies. Surely, the young gay person finding freedom in the big city is a common story, but it has never been the only or predominant one amongst those well-versed in queer history. As we move from the introduction, each of the four essays claiming to explore “unexpected” homosexuality falls short.

The first two, set in 1920's Dartmouth and the work camps of the CCC, are perhaps just as stereotypical and just as expected as the “metronormativity” myth. Homosocial environments have known been long as places where queerness can flourish virtually undetected, especially since activities that would be considered queer in mixed-gender environments (like men portraying women in the theatre) lose that connotation in homosocial ones. Unfortunately, this means that the line between true queerness and situational homosexuality and pseudo-queer activities become coded as queer by the outside observer, a mistake made all too frequently in these two essays.

In the third, “Southern Backwardness,” the reader is expected, one presumes, to be shocked by the eroticization of the rural, a ho-hum standard ploy in gay male erotica. The muscle-bound rube, the working class male, the hard-living blue collar hero, all have been the subject of gay male (and straight female) fantasy for a very long time. What, I ask, is new, interesting or exciting about that?

Finally, in the fourth essay, we get to the only particularly new or interesting view of queer youth culture, the claiming and queering of spaces inextricably connected to white bread, suburban Americana: donut shops, Wal-Mart, book stores and public libraries. The emergence of a queer youth culture is new, a product of the decades-long struggle to eliminate the closet as a force in the lives of young gay people. However, the locations chosen are not particularly surprising to those of us intimately familiar with the youth culture (queer or otherwise) of the suburbs. Ensconced in the middle of white bread America, there isn’t much of a choice for suburban youth but to claim places such as these as free youth spaces.

Ultimately, the most expected (though no less disappointing) aspect of this “unexpected” look at non-metro homosexuals is that the lesbian is invisible. Considering the lesbian love of claiming non-metropolitan locales and the particularly suburban and rural bent to much of lesbian culture, the absence of the Sapphic is particularly inappropriate here.

My recommendation? Skip it. At this late stage, there are a plethora of queer studies journals that do a far better job of illuminating the lives and histories of LGBT Americans.

Written by: Melinda Barton, March 16th 2009

Vanderbilt A-Light Lamp

admin — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 23:05:00 +0000

By RE-Surface

Bringing the urban landscape into the home environment, designer Donna Jo Brady creates lighting fixtures that illuminate the beauty in street culture. The construction of the Vanderbilt A-Light Lamp base is sleek and modern, which contrasts the gritty artwork on the lampshade itself. The design melds together two different artistic worlds in a way that exemplifies the way they compliment each other.

On this lamp, dripping paint and rust eating away at metal meet a clean birch wood base. Other lampshade designs utilize graffiti, stenciling, blotches of color, aged brick, and vines that snake up the shade, which can also be seen on so many buildings here in New York City. It's clear where this Brooklyn-based artist gets her inspiration... not to mention the names of her creations, which include Bedford, Kent, South 3rd, Wythe, and Metropolitan. Yes, that's Metropolitan, as in the street where Feminist Review resides in the ever-popular Williamsburg neighborhood.

This lamp is perfect for a side table accent piece at about 10" high, and is perfect for anyone who finds themselves caught up in the romance of the NYC's paradoxical aesthetic presentation.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, February 15th 2007