Andrea Dulanto

Hunting My Dress

farhana — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Attention wiccans and hippies—Jesca Hoop’s Hunting My Dress (with Bonus EP) is your new theme music. Ethereal and bluesy, this nine-track album and folksy five song EP are a call to light incense, join a drum circle and bake your own bread.

Hunting My Dress is Hoop’s second full-length album. Her musical career commenced in 2003 when Tom Waits (she had worked as a nanny for his children) endorsed her work. This high-profile support led to an EP Silverscreen Demos in 2004 and later the 2007 critically-acclaimed album Kismet. Another EP, Kismet Acoustic followed in 2008.

From the pagan-sounding chorus of “Whispering Light” to the hushed madrigal vibe of the title track on Hunting My Dress, Hoop shows an interest in the album as a cohesive art form. Instead of staying in the realm of random plays on an iPod, Hoop’s songs speak to each other with a surreal lyricism, creating an otherworldly narrative of medieval kingdoms, long-distance lovers, childhood trees, and old-school stereos.

There’s more mysticism in Hoop’s lyrics than an Anne Rice novel: “Under the spell of full November moon/ light on the broom/ frost in my room/ in through a window came a ghost I knew.”

Musical influences abound in her work—many of the songs on Hunting My Dress are reminiscent of other artists. “Angel Mom” recalls the vocals of Kate Bush—plaintive and mournful. Hoop’s matter-of-fact guitar and vocals on “Bed Across the Sea” evoke Ani DiFranco. Lusty and percussion-driven, “Four Dreams” recollects Jane’s Addiction's Ritual de lo Habitual. Yet these diverse influences create an indefinite persona—if Hoop can be all of these artists, then who is she outside of them? Another example of this artistic ambiguity is the brogue that appears in a few songs. Hoop is an American living in England—so (like Madonna before her) she has clearly picked up an accent.

Is she British or not British? Is she Kate Bush or Jane’s Addiction? It’s not that Hoop can’t be both or all of the above. But at some point, an artist has to move away from her influences to determine her identity. Hoop tries on different musical styles in Hunting My Dress and they all fit perfectly. However, her creative forces—the lyrical narratives, mysticism and expansive sense of musical experimentation—will be obscured if she continues to only echo other artists.

An untitled Bonus EP is included with Hunting My Dress. Three Kismet songs, a B-side from the UK version of Hunting My Dress, and collaboration with Blake Mills makes up the compilation.

First-time listeners experience a less mystic Hoop on this EP, and fans who know her music can re-visit the directness of her earlier pop-folk style. The roots of Hoop’s experimentation can be heard in “Enemy,” an indie-ballad in the key of Liz Phair, but the EP revels in guitar and vocals. Stand-outs are the buoyant love song “My Boo” and the alternative rock duet “Wintersong.”

Hunting My Dress and the Bonus EP show different sides of Jesca Hoop. Folk singer and pagan chorus, she is unafraid of exploring musical styles. As Hoop develops as an artist, it will be fascinating to see which style becomes her own.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, February 21st 2011

Buddhism Through American Women’s Eyes

brittany — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Edited by Karma Lekshe Tsomo

Snow Lion Publications

Buddhism Through American Women’s Eyes, a collection of thirteen essays edited by Karma Lekshe Tsomo, offers an introspective exploration of Buddhist philosophy and practices. First published in 1995 and re-issued in 2010, these works are written by women who attended a California retreat in August 1989.

The last chapter of the book, “Continuing the Conversation,” discusses the diverse experience of this retreat: “There was a mix of women, some of whom had been practicing for ten, twenty, or thirty years, and some who were brand-new to meditation, providing both depth and freshness, tradition, and innovation.”

This information could have been placed at the start rather than the end of the book to add context. For example, a few essays are interspersed with “Response” sections where the writer interacts with questions or comments from other participants. Without knowledge of the retreat, these sections may disorient readers.

There is some context—the introduction, “Openings,” addresses the patriarchy found within several Buddhist traditions, particularly how the texts teach enlightenment for all beings, yet give preference to men as the true spiritual conduits and teachers. One noted exception is the Vajrayana tradition of Buddhism with its female figure of enlightenment, Tara. Not surprisingly, this empowering representation doesn’t often extend to “actual living traditions in Buddhist society.” Buddhism Through American Women’s Eyes proves that women’s interpretations can transform Buddhist practice.

“Forging a Kind Heart in an Age of Alienation” and “Reflections on Impermanence” explore reconciliation and grief—subject matters for any practitioner. Yet these works also show that meditative practice can be imbued by women’s experiences. One writer narrates her difficult relationship with a terminally ill father and her decision to be open and honest with him instead of falling into the habit of “play[ing] the co-dependent role of ‘Mary Sunshine.’ ”

In “Mothering and Meditation,” Jacqueline Mandell shares how when her twins are born, a friend shows up for a week to help with housework and take care of the children. This prompts Mandell to consider the concept of “mother care.” Her Buddhist friends ask whether she has time to meditate, but she invites a better question: “‘Now that you’re a mother, may I help you so that you can meditate?’” “Abortion: A Respectful Meeting Ground” relates Yvonne Rand’s grief after having an abortion. Eventually, the Buddhist precept of not doing harm to living beings is what motivates her anti-abortion stance. However, Rand stays resolutely pro-choice. What seems like a contradiction is Buddhism in action—it is not about judgment. “There is no easy or ‘right’ answer,” Rand concludes. Instead, Buddhism is about “the practice of awareness.”

Other practitioners consider the intersection of Buddhism with relationships and daily stress. Many of the essays expand on karma as well as the conflict between Buddhist traditions and American life. A collaborative work, “The Monastic Experience,” personalizes this conflict as several women discuss their study and practice of Buddhism in the East and West.

Readers may want to know how or if the situation has changed for Buddhist American women since 1995, so an updated foreword could have proved useful. There is an excellent glossary and suggestions for further reading, yet the philosophical discourse is leveled at experienced readers of Buddhism. The book is accessible, but this is no primer.

Buddhism Through American Women’s Eyes is at its best when it leaves behind the abstract language of philosophy and connects spiritual practices to everyday concerns. For readers interested in Buddhist women, this book provides a voice for new traditions.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, February 9th 2011

Florida Supercon (6/18 – 6/20/2010)

admin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 04:01:00 +0000

Doubletree Miami Airport Hotel and Convention Center

Miami, Florida

Since I live in Miami, a city of fashionable sameness, it can be difficult to find alternatives to the mainstream culture. So I was convention curious. Yet all I knew about anime was what I’d seen on Adult Swim or the Syfy channel: doe-eyed, borderline pornographic girls in their miniskirts and ponytails. I can never get past the not-so-subtle little girl fetish. Change the channel, thanks.

Of course, there is the stereotype of the person who regularly watches Adult Swim—a pasty-faced, bespectacled, often bearded man-boy who lives in his mother’s living room—and hey, if we’re going the route of stereotypes, why not throw in Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. That was my starting point for the Supercon.

Supercon is diverse compared to other conventions. I went with a friend, a veteran con goer. She spoke about how comic cons bring out collectors as well as kids, while anime cons appeal to the pink-haired teenagers. Florida Supercon had all of these audiences. It also had fans of yesteryear TV shows and films with actors like Dawn Wells (Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island), Tia Carrere (Wayne’s World), and Guest of Honor Richard Roundtree (Shaft). And if you wanted an autograph from a wrestler or former Playboy playmate, they were there too.

The convention schedule on Saturday offered a few women-related panels, where I hoped to observe how women and girls are represented at a con. First was the "Girl’s Guide to Con Going" with the female hosts of the Anime Addicts Anonymous podcast. This panel was my introduction, and I felt both out of place and at home. Out of place because the three women were decked out in wigs and costumes, and spoke another language with Dragon Ball Z, cosplay, and other con references:: “I need a new d20.” (Did con speak require a dictionary? Write it down, ask questions later.) I felt at home because these women also spoke a language in which I am fluent: feminism. I don’t know if that’s how they would define themselves, but they certainly had ideas that many feminists would support.

The women counseled the audience on not giving out too much information to people at conventions and creating a limited Facebook profile for con friends. At first, this seemed very Dateline NBC (read: obvious advice); then I noticed the young girls in the audience. Some were twelve or thirteen years old, maybe younger. Some of them were sitting alone. The three women on the panel looked like they were in their early twenties, and they acted as role models and mentors. How should you respond to a creepy con guy who wants to take your picture? Say no: “If that voice in your head says this is weird, listen to it.” I hadn’t expected this kind of talk at a comic book convention.

One of this panel’s best topics was how to create affordable and practical costumes. (Some context for the uninitiated: what you wear is a major part of conventions. Sometimes people dress as characters of their own gender, but attendees are just as likely to cross-dress.)The "Girl’s Guide to Con Going" was all about comfort in costuming; if you went wearing flats, that would be one less thing to worry about. Pack a change of clothes and double-sided tape. Practice poses in front of a mirror before the convention. “You may think something looks cool, but it doesn’t, and then you’re on YouTube,” said one panelist.

The panel also encouraged the audience not to live up to unrealistic portrayals of women when working on their costumes. Sexy girls are part of anime, like the female anime character featured on the back of the Florida Supercon program: Yoko from Gurren Lagann. She has red hair in sweeping ponytails, a skimpy maid costume, big boobs, a flat stomach, and a come-hither wink. The panelists offered the female audience validation: “That body type doesn’t fit into the real world! Anime is drawn; they aren’t based on real people. So, tailor your costume to whatever fits you.”

As far as their own costumes, the panelists were dressed as characters from Baccano! Nice Holystone wore an eye patch; Miria was a blonde in a red dress and opera gloves; and red-haired Ennis was dressed in a suit. Silly me. I had thought Ennis was Dana Scully from The X-Files.

The next women-related panel, "Meet The Roller Derby Girls," presented the South Florida skaters from the Gold Coast Derby Grrls. Roller derby is inclusive of both genders, in some respects; men can participate as referees, but only women can compete. Skaters recreate themselves into personas with names like Souljourner, Dela Ruthless, and Heinous Grace. One of the women, Caffeine Crash, explained the connection between roller derby and a comic book convention: “When you skate, it’s like an alter ego—like you’re putting on a character. But at the same time, that’s when you’re most yourself, with the war-paint and being kick-ass.”

While this is reminiscent of cosplay, that’s probably where the similarity ends. Roller derby is a fast-paced game where skaters often get injured—sprained shoulders and bruises are standard—so skaters learn to “fall small” and spend money on a good set of knee pads. The sport is one of the few outlets where women can be full-on aggressive. But what’s remarkable is how roller derby has become an international network of women who support each other and contribute to charitable causes. (The Derby Grrls have organized relief efforts for Haiti and collected supplies for people affected by the oil spill crisis in the Gulf.) The Gold Coast Derby Grrls have traveled nationwide for matches in Philadelphia and Oklahoma. Despite the competitive nature of the sport, other leagues will often show hospitality by giving their competitors a place to stay.

The last panel was on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and featured Georges Jeanty, the artist who worked on the season eight comic book. Jeanty’s previous work includes strong female characters like Wonder Woman and Razor. He considered what makes Buffy different: “Most female characters in comics are men drawn in female form. Buffy is independent and powerful, but still very much a girl.”

But what does it mean to be a girl? The first two panels had presented more than one definition. You could have comfort in your cosplay or you could be bruised up from roller derby. There are many ways to be an independent and powerful girl.

However, Jeanty’s point about the male influence on comic books was made evident by browsing the Florida Supercon's vendor and artist tables. Plenty of the female characters in comics and anime could have been featured in Playboy or Hustler. There was even a Typhoid Mary action figure with mechanical straitjacket and spread-eagle legs. What’s the message here—keep your women locked up and prone?

There were also empowering images to be found. The front cover of Derrick Fish’s The Wellkeeper made my friend stop at his table: “Look, she has a belly!” Zoe is the main character, a young girl with curves. The cover shows Zoe ascending into the sky out of the green earth, surrounded by a radiant light. A synopsis of the story suggests that Zoe is connected to a planetary life force, so there are definite mother-earth overtones. Her belly makes sense in that context, but she also represents a body type we don’t often see as heroic, and that acts as an alternative to depictions like Typhoid Mary.

Artist Juan Fontanez said he appreciated the presence and influence of female artists and collectors at Florida Supercon. This sentiment was also shared by Banky (V. Farano), who has sometimes been mistaken for a “convention girlfriend” instead of an artist. Yet Danielle Soloud, creator of the webcomic Life With Death, voiced the need for even more women in the industry. She said, “We should be able to get in there… boys and girls [can] make comics together!”

Younger fans have found interesting ways to deal with gender disparities. I asked a group of teens—one boy and three girls, aged twelve to eighteen—about what it’s like for a girl at these conventions. One girl responded, “It’s harder because of the costumes… sometimes it’s easier [for a girl] to be a guy.” She went into detail about how it costs less money and results in more fun if you're seen as a boy. The only difficulty was in binding down her chest, but the compliments made it seem worth it.

Another girl, who was dressed as Allen Walker from D.Gray-man, said some people didn’t recognize her as a girl in costume; instead, they just said she was a really good Allen. The boy was dressed as his own gender, with orange hair and a brown robe. He insisted that when a guy dresses as a girl, it was “just for laughs.”

Sure, Florida Supercon had women in tight-costumes, all boobs and high heels, and more than a few pasty-faced man-boys (even a few who could double as Comic Book Guy), but that stereotype is a very limited truth. Women artists and fans are claiming their place in the realm of comic books, anime, video games, and sci-fi while cosplay is expanding the continuum of gender expression. There is definitely the potential for empowerment at conventions like Florida Supercon; however, women and men should continue to voice the need for broader representations. For every Yoko, there should be a Zoe. Until then, women should keep attending these conventions and establishing a presence within this pop culture niche—so every girl can be her own superhero.

Photo credit: Debbie Chamberlin

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, July 30th 2010

The Drifter

admin — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 16:53:00 +0000

By Lindi Ortega

Cherry Tree Records

The wanderlust, the whisky, the love-done-me-wrong– Mexican-Canadian musician Lindi Ortega sings it all out on The Drifter EP, and even if you're not a fan of indie country folksiness, her voice calls to you. The singer's voice lulls and disarms with a sweetness that could be borderline saccharine. Nonetheless, she is saved by her expansive ability to belt out a tune. If you heard her singing in a bar, you'd probably be forced to put down your beer.

Ortega's EP has only four songs, so before you know it, the album is over. But the brevity could be a metaphor for the love affairs in some of her lyrics: Here today, sing about it tomorrow.

"Dying of Another Broken Heart" is a deadpan perspective on breakups: "I should hold a funeral for every love I’ve lost." Ortega's guitar and keyboards play out the rhythm of a pop-folk lullaby in contrast to the cynical humor. Except for an interlude of bells where the lullaby takes over, this mix of sweetness and cynicism works well.

"All My Friends" transposes Ortega's wit onto an allegory for alcohol and drug addiction. She sings about "Jack" and "Mary Jane", the "friends" who will kill her dead. Despite this heavy-handedness, Ortega plays the expert staccato chords of a protest song, complete with Jewel-like vocals.

"Black Fly" and "Drifter" provide a different kind of protest: the refusal to end relationships without "one last taste." "Black Fly" is the most orchestrated composition on the album, with drums added to guitar and vocals. A song with pop-country verve and Hollywood bravado, it could be a lost track from Thelma & Louise. But "Drifter" lowers the guitar and keyboard to bossa nova volume, creating a music box melody. Pristine and unadorned, Ortega's voice stays in a muted key. This is the album's most experimental work, and it shows her indie side.

Still, both songs are ballads for co-dependency: "Sometimes lies are sweet like honey/ When you tell me/ that you love me so/ I drink it up you know." "Drifter" is an extended voice-mail message for an elusive lover: "I wonder what you’re running from/ Yes, I wonder if I could be the one/ to make you stay." (Step One for co-dependents: Do not leave songs as voice-mail messages.) But Ortega can sing with a boldness that needs no serenity prayers. Why not evince the same boldness with her lyrics?

Mainstream and indie, sweet and cynical, co-dependent and standing on her own, Lindi Ortega experiments with many musical personas, and, despite a few missteps, The Drifter offers the work of an eclectic artist worth exploring.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, August 28th 2009

Meridians

admin — Mon, 25 May 2009 00:55:00 +0000

By Valerie Mih

Meridians is a very “new age” title for an album. You may hear the word “meridians” all the time without knowing what it means, and when you look it up, you still don’t. You know it’s about circles and zeniths and acupuncture references to the body’s pathways to energy—but can you use it in a sentence?

When I worked at a record store (yes, a record store) in the '90s, we had an entire new age section. Vangelis, Yanni, John Tesh—there was a studied blandness to their music. New age fans were just as serious about blandness—serious about their wool socks, scented candles, and herbal tea music. So I didn’t expect to like Meridians—but I did.

Have I become the demographic of wool socks? Maybe I’m more open to this kind of music. I’m not dancing on tables to Lady Gaga (not every night anyway). I want to relax. I want to “de-stress.” I want candles and herbal teas.

Mih’s first note on the album is her body—she exhales and breathes life into the title song. This exhale lasts two seconds, but it sets the tone of emotional connection and presence throughout her work. I know, I know—how new age. Yet most new age music has a forced sense of completion, and the emotional complexity of a pod-person. It is one with the universe, end of story. But Mih’s breathing is not I-am-one-with-the-universe. Instead it is more I-am-a-woman-tired-at-the-end-of-her-day. Let-me-be-saved-by-my-music.

The experimental arrangements of Mih’s piano, vocals, keyboard, and accordion also add to the emotional depth, and reflect the not always beatific path to tranquility. Her voice is reminiscent of an English chorus in “Meridians,” “Flow,” and the end track, “Circular Dreaming.” The accordion and the bell sounds of keyboard add subtle tension to “Meridians.” However, the same bells are overdone in “Interwoven” where they take a melodramatic turn of suspense that would be at home in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

Mih’s experimental best is “Saturn’s Rings,” where I’m not sure if she is breathing again as music or if the keyboards are replicating the sound. The keyboard could also be evoking a computer as it runs a program—the sound of a computer breathing. Whichever the case, this interplay of sounds provide an interesting juxtaposition of music, nature and technology. The plaintive accordion of this song is one of the most memorable sections of this album.

Yet some of Mih’s works are less experimental and more direct. “Little One,” “Reflections” and “Sacred Sound” are impassioned selections with the piano as the only instrument. “Autumn” is also centered on the piano, but the repetitive chords get in the way of this song. Although they could be a statement about the cyclical nature of seasons, the repetition can be excessive. Yet it’s the dissonant chords at the end of “Autumn” that conversely provide closure.

Meridians may share aspects of new age music, but I wouldn’t call Valerie Mih new age. She could be an instrumental version of Enya or the Cocteau Twins. Where those artists used their voices to create a surreal auditory landscape, Mih uses her piano, keyboard and accordion. There could even be a classical parallel with the French composer Claude Debussy.

So, yes, not what I expected. Valerie Mih’s album reconnects the listener to the emotional experience of music and leaves you elevated. No blandness here. Except for those wool socks.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, May 24th 2009

Ani DiFranco (03/18/2009)

admin — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 16:55:00 +0000

Club Cinema

Pompano Beach, Florida

At the Ani DiFranco concert in Pompano Beach, FL, a woman next to me hadn’t heard Red Letter Year. But she wouldn’t have missed the show: “If it’s Ani, then I’m there.”

I confess. I’m the same. I don’t have the new album. But it’s Ani. So I was there.

Allie Evans, who works on Ani’s tours, talked about the audience response: “The economy may not be strong... yet people are excited [when they see the show].” It’s more than the music. It’s connection she has with community. Evans also noted the diverse ages of the audiences: “It used to be only college kids, now there are young people with their parents... and fans who have been with Ani for twenty years.”

Twenty years already? If you’ve listened to Ani for awhile, then it’s hard not to feel older at this concert. Yet it’s true, there are all ages. Women with gray hair, and women born in the nineties wearing turned-up collars like its the ‘80s.

I heard another woman at the concert, Ximena, say to her boyfriend: “Baby, there are a lot of guys here!” There were quite a number of men. A white-haired man wore a t-shirt with the words: Ani Fucking DiFranco. Ximena gave an enthusiastic review of the new album: “It’s different... slower, but inspiring. With every album, I learn more about her. She shows evolution. This new album has the political angst, but there’s also a happiness, a glow, an aura.”

Less angst. Would I like this Ani?

I had listened to her since college, related to her songs about politics, art, love, breakups. Two years ago, Ani became a mother. For the first time, I felt shut out of her experience because I don’t think I want children. Would I be able to relate to her music in the same way?

Toshi Reagon opened for Ani by playing acoustic guitar and singing about mountaintops. She brought us to summits with her resounding voice. However, halfway through a song, she directly addressed some loud patrons by the bar at the back of the club. The interruption was slightly disconcerting for those of us who had been listening to her, yet it was powerful to see Reagon use this moment to talk about respect and community building. She left a lasting impression.

DiFranco’s first song was the classic “Anticipate.” Allison Miller was on drums, and Todd Sickafoose was on upright bass. They played from Red Letter Year, as well as older songs like “Dilate,” “Both Hands,” and “Every State Line.”

If you’re an Ani fan, you don’t need to know every song to get something out of them. “The little folk singer” tells stories in her lyrics about New Orleans, President Obama’s election, and women “connected to everything.” She also spoke about her daughter learning to say “cookie” and “book,” and noted that “some blame my happiness on the baby, but I think it’s my four year love.” This was the perfect introduction to “Present/Infant,” a song from the new album.

Ani is happy, but she stayed honest. No elixirs, no get-happy-quick schemes. She has changed, yet what is best about her hasn't. She is not done exploring and questioning the world around her. She is not done learning about herself.

We listened to sixteen songs during her main set, and three during an encore, so the concert ticket holds its value. But the value of this concert is worth more than money.

If it’s Ani, then you should be there.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, March 31st 2009

Elizabeth Willis

admin — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 18:55:00 +0000

By Elizabeth Willis

Little Blackbird Music

In Anne Sexton’s introductory note for her book of poems, Live or Die, she “apologizes for the fact that [these poems] read like a fever chart for a bad case of melancholy. But...the order of their creation might be of interest to some readers.”

Whether or not Elizabeth Willis’ songs on her self-titled album were placed in a similar kind of order, they can definitely be characterized as introspective as they explore their own "case of melancholy." It’s no surprise that Willis thanks Dostoevsky and Beethoven in her liner notes. You can hear their influence in the restless piano and the contours of Willis’ voice, which fall somewhere between Fiona Apple and an indie lo-fi version of Sarah Vaughn.

We are in fever chart territory–traveling with and within the artist. The plaintive "Overture," an instrumental of piano and violin, is moody as a desolate Scottish moor. Yet towards the end of the song, the drums come in. It’s not exactly Paxil, but the percussion is restorative. Willis often plays out this balance between lows and highs throughout the album. Many songs are decidedly contemplative: "One," "Thoughts," and "Don’t Worry." Others have more of an upbeat undertone, such as “4am” with its frenetic piano, and "(In) Love" with Willis’ vocals taking on an exuberant, higher key.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with Scottish moors or contemplation. In fact, it’s the melancholy that gives depth and complexity to the steadfast hope in many of Willis’ lyrics: "It was in your eyes/A little hint of a blue sky." The album explores the connection between personal relationships, nature and self-awareness as Willis sings of loneliness, love, dreams of blackbirds, and walks under a starry sky.

A place for improvement is the overlap of vocals in "4am" and "Stars." I found it distracting to hear Willis singing with herself because it becomes more studio production than song. A few lyrics are obscure and abstract. "You'll be in my thoughts forever" could be any pop song. The honest vulnerability of Willis’ voice should be matched with more fully-developed lyrics.

Although this album is meditative, Willis’ fever chart for melancholy is one that is resolutely determined to not let the sadness get her down: "I’m going to find my way. I’m going to make mistakes. And move on." Elizabeth Willis is a promising artist who will definitely find her way.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, February 24th 2009

Indestructible

admin — Sun, 25 Feb 2007 03:49:00 +0000

By Cristy C. Road

Microcosm Publishing

When you think of Miami, you don’t often think of punk. I grew up in South Florida, I’ve come back here (for now). Miami is anti-punk – superficial, isolationist, materialistic. It’s possible to be punk in this city – to create and exist outside of the mainstream. Yet I’m always curious to see how others form their own identities, their own cultures, in a place that doesn’t do much to support them. This is what made me read Cristy C. Road’s illustrated novel, Indestructible– a memoir of adolescence in Miami in the early nineties, the story of a Cuban-American punk rock girl.

Road’s narrative has an emotional immediacy, a social relevance that makes you believe her voice, makes you belong to her world. You forget how old you are, you are with her- drinking a 32 ounce of beer (“because forties were illegal in Florida”), going to punk shows, listening to a two-minute song for empowerment.

She strongly identifies with her Cuban family, her working-class background. She questions everything – beauty standards, sexuality. But she struggles with outside influences that try to dictate her appearance, thoughts and behavior. Her feminist mother tells her to be happy with her unibrow – but Cristy is learning how to “[fish] for strength.” Sometimes she’s not impervious to those influences: “...I weakened and shaved the bridge between my eyes.”

Road learns to talk back to those who tell her she’s not “Latina enough,” or who insist she decide on her sexuality, “choose a side” – gay or straight. She finally secures a hard-won sense of identity when confronting a boy who sexually harasses her at school: “I stopped silencing myself... how nice it would be to one day let ‘shit’ make me stronger.”

The artwork has the same level of immediacy. Road’s black and white illustrations are cinematic frames which include vivid action scenes – a sexual encounter, a fist-fight – as well as intimate, candid portraits of Road and her friends. A particularly haunting picture of a girl named Selene appears throughout the book. She stares at us – unwavering, omniscient.

Sometimes the prose style of Indestructible veers towards the polemic, and takes the reader away from having their own interpretations flow organically from the text. Overall, Road’s novel is a testimony of survival – a powerful reminder of how we must create (and re-create) our identities – whether the mainstream is with us, or not.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, February 24th 2007

Anxious Pleasures: A Novel After Kafka

admin — Sat, 03 Feb 2007 13:42:00 +0000

By Lance Olsen

Shoemaker & Hoard

This novel re-imagines The Metamorphosis, Franz Kafka’s story of Gregor Samsa who wakes up one morning as a bug. Samsa’s point of view is crucial to The Metamorphosis, but Lance Olsen focuses on those who witness the inexplicable, unsettling transformation: his sister, his parents, the chief clerk, the servant girl, the cook, the charwoman, and three lodgers. Anxious Pleasures expands the story to these peripheral characters and ones who never even met the new Samsa: a cashier who he casually dated, his sister’s suitor, and the neighbor downstairs. Olsen also introduces other dimensions with the voice of Margaret, a young shoe store clerk in contemporary England who is reading The Metamorphosis for a book club; Margaret’s grandparents, Neddie and Nellie, who are missing in the English countryside; and literary criticism of Kafka’s work.

Anxious Pleasures depicts Samsa as a humanoid insect: “a dim bluish-white wedge bobbing in the blackness...and the human head... peeking... around the shut wing.” The insect imagery is placed in the world outside of Samsa– the apartment is “divided into regular segments like... a brown bug’s belly,” sister Grete resembles a cricket, the three lodgers “move...like...part of the same spider in shabby black.” Samsa retains his humanity– those around him become questionable. Yet Olsen’s hybrid imagery demonstrates that no one is completely “other.” Samsa’s family becomes Samsa– his transformation is their own.

Metaphorical, descriptive language is what lends the most power to Anxious Pleasures. There is a reference to the hidden wings that beetles rarely use: “It was as if they had forgotten they were even there.” This observation resonates the desire for fulfillment within all the characters, particularly Margaret, who walks through the British Museum with an ache in her shoulder– an embodiment of her own hidden wings?

Despite these evocative images, Olsen stays resolutely attached to an academic intellect. A studied attention to details subtly and overtly reveals the era, class, gender and education level of each character. Although Olsen’s metaphoric imagery connects these disparate voices into a cohesive narrative, the emotional depth of individual characters is only half-explored. Instead, literary criticism becomes the authoritative voice with frequent excerpts from essays on Kafka. This structure can be thought-provoking, but often feels disruptive and pedantic.

Anxious Pleasures could uncover more of its own hidden wings – vivid metaphors and language – and allow itself to take flight.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, February 3rd 2007