Homemade Granola

My mom often made granola at home when I was growing up. I believe she used a recipe from a cookbook of my father’s from the 70s. Later, when my siblings and I came home from college for breaks, she would often make a triple batch to send us each back with a large container of granola. Mine was labeled “Marie -no raisins”. To this day, this granola is my favorite – not too sweet, full of crunchy goodness, and a perfect topping for yogurt with some seasonal fruit as a breakfast or snack. My 2 year old loves it, too, although she has a hard time pronouncing “granola”.

Granola

6 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup flax meal (or wheat germ)
1 cup chopped nuts (I use pecans)
1 cup sunflower seeds
1/2 cup canola oil
1/2 cup maple syrup (or honey)
1 Tablespoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup raisins or other dried fruit (optional)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Combine first four ingredients in large bowl.

Stir oil, syrup, vanilla, and salt* in saucepan over medium-low heat until combined.

Add sauce to dry ingredients in the bowl and stir well to combine.

Spread ingredients evenly over 2 baking sheets.

Bake for 25 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes and swapping top/bottom tray to ensure even baking.

Cool slightly before adding optional dried fruit.

Cool completely before transferring to airtight container for storage.

* The original recipe also calls for 1/4 cup brown sugar, to be combined on the stove at the same time as the oil and honey. I feel the recipe is plenty sweet without this and do not include it.

Cheater’s Book Oscars

Last year I awarded “Oscars” to books I had read in 2022. I had fun putting it together, so in 2023 I kept a running list of my favorites in each category.

Why is it the “cheater’s” book Oscars? 1) this post is late because I was busy having a baby, 2) it was written on my phone while holding said baby snoozing snuggly in the other arm, 3) a couple of the categories may be a bit of a stretch. Hopefully, there are still some titles to pique your interest and some fun discussion to be had.

Actor in a Leading Role (Best Male Main Character): Ender Wiggen in Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card. Ender has grown up a lot since his last appearance in Ender’s Game I was surprised at his insight throughout the book and appreciated his empathy. A beautiful follow up.

Actor in a Supporting Role (Best Male Side Character): Chicken George in Roots by Alex Haley. There isn’t really one main character in Alex Haley’s Roots, which follows multiple generations from Gambia, through slavery, and into the present. Chicken George, however, was a vibrant character who stuck with me for a while after reading this book.

Actress in a Leading Role (Best Female Main Character): Tenar in Tehanu by Ursula K. LeGuin. Like Ender, Tenar has also grown up since her first appearance in The Tombs of Atuan. Although she has lived a simple life that belies her origins, she continues to impress.

Actress in a Supporting Role (Best Female Side Character): Moss in Tehanu. Moss felt so real to me – as though she was someone I actually knew. She may have been frustrating at times, but ultimately was someone I was glad to have around.

Add a Category! – Best Non-Binary Character: Sibling Dex in A Prayer for the Crown-Shy. Dex is still trying to figure out life, and we are too, right alongside them.

Animated Feature Film (Graphic Novel): Bea Wolf by Zach Weinersmith and Boulet. There was not a lot of competition for this spot – I only read 2 comic books in the last year! But Bea Wolf was charming and clever in just the right way. This book has been nominated for this year’s upcoming Hugo awards.

Cinematography (Setting): Arctic Dreams by Barry Lopez. Although my praise of Lopez’s book was mixed, it can’t be denied that the picture he paints of the far North is arrestingly beautiful.

Costume Design (Best Cover Art): A Prayer for the Crown Shy. The cover by Feifei Ruan, design by Christine Foltzer matches the tone of the solar punk book: calm, meditative, and optimistic.

Directing (Favorite Author): Matthew Desmond for Evicted. Desmond actually lived in the communities he researched during the 2007-8 financial crisis, and the experience affected him deeply. I am in awe of his dedication, and also of the masterpiece he wrote, which shows evictions “as a cause, not just a condition, of poverty”.

Documentary Feature Film (Best Nonfiction Book): Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe. Immersive, harrowing, and unforgettable; a look at the Troubles in Ireland through the eyes of two different families and an unsolved murder.

Documentary Short Film (Best Essay Collection): “The Journey That Matters” – a series of six short videos from Arwen Curry about the iconic author, Ursula K LeGuin. 1) About her illegal abortion in 1950, 2) on writing fantasy as a young girl, 3) on creating the world of Earthsea, 4) on writing characters of color, 5) on her writing process, 6) on writing and parenting with her husband, Charles

Film Editing (Editor of a Collection or Magazine): Heidi Murkoff for the “What to Expect…” series. I’ve read and reread a lot of What to Expect books over the last couple years and opened the app nearly daily. It’s not my favorite book (That would be Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Newborn: A Complete Guide by Penny Simpkin et al) but by sheer page count alone I have ended up spending a lot of time reading the work that Murkoff has curated.

International Feature Film (Book in Translation): The Hearing Trumpet by Leonora Carrington. Ok so – the only book in translation I read last year was Elegance of the Hedgehog, which I did not like enough to give an award. The Hearing Trumpet was first published in French, but originally written in English. So really, there was no translation involved in the version I read. This was quite possibly the most surreal book I have ever read in my life.

Makeup and Hairstyling (Best Mystery/Thriller/or Horror Book): Monk’s Hood by Ellis Peters. Last year, I recieved a full set of Cafael Mysteries from my Dad, who was downsizing his collection. Reading one a month, I got through about half the series last year. I enjoyed Monk’s Hood for the glimpse at Brother Cadfael’s pre-Abbey days, and reconciliation with his present life.

Music (Best Book-Related Social Media): I have since deleted my twitter/x account, but when I used to still check it, I enjoyed Owl! at the Library for “fairy-tales, beauty, wholesome whimsy”. Full of cozy vibes and book tweets.

Best Picture (Best “Literary” Fiction Book):  Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. I have read two books by Ishiguro so far and have been utterly blown away both times. Honorable Mention: Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi. This book follows the lineages of two sisters in Ghana, one who remains in Africa and one who is sold into slavery. Each lineage has horrors to deal with, whether in fire and self-destruction or in water and a theft of the self. It has stuck with me for a while since reading and I would love to go back a reread it someday.

Production Design (Best Publisher): Graywolf Press for their Graywolf Press African Fiction Prize. The House of Rust by Khadija Abdalla Bajaber was a mind-opening read this year, which was published via winning the prize. I hope someday to read the other winners, as well.

Short Film (Animated) (Best Children’s Book): Joint winners Rah Rah Radishes: A Vegetable Chant by April Pulley Sayre and Good Night Veggies by Diana Murray and Zachariah O’Hora. My green-thumbed sister bought both of these for my oldest daughter. “One for when you need to get her going and one for when you need to lay her down,” she said. (“Oh no!” said Joe, “what if she mixes her upper and downer veggies? That’s how John Belushi died.”)

Short Film (Live Action) (Best Short Story): Rabbit Test by Samantha Mills. A year and a half ago while at World Con I had a premonition about the type of story that would win a Hugo award this year. (I -laughably- set out to write it and got nowhere. Mills was way ahead of me.) “Rabbit Test” won both the Hugo and Nebula awards, although she declined the Hugo due to last year’s controversy in Chengdu.

Sound (Best Poetry): Bea Wolf by Zach Weinersmith and Boulet. My intake of poetry was very low this year, but Bea Wolf is fun enough to take the cake

Visual Effects (Best Sci-Fi/Fantasy Novel): Doomsday Book by Connie Willis. I read this book at just the right time – just before Christmas when the weather was dark and wet to match the setting, and just far enough removed from the pandemic that a time-travel novel centered around the Black Death and a mysterious flu outbreak in London seemed familiar, yet not in such a way that I was already sick of it. I was utterly engrossed, staying up late at night to read it; and impressed at Willis’s knowledge and insight into both the past and the future.

Writing (Adapted Screenplay) (Best Book Adaptation): “Dungeons &Dragons: Honor Among Thieves” This movie was a surprising delight and incorporated the best parts of D&D: silly hijinks, stupid names that the DM clearly came up with at the last second (Jarnathan?), fight sequences in which the bard successfully uses Vicious Mockery… I felt like I could feel the players behind the characters having fun with their backstory and more. I felt it to be a touching story about found family – which is all the more appropriate because that is what the best D&D campaigns turn into as we sit around the table together each week.

Writing (Original Screenplay) (Best Prose): Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro manages to gradually unfold a story in such a way that by the end, you feel like you knew it all along, and yet are astounded at the same time.

From the Garden: Ratatouille

There comes a time each summer, when the craving for foods made from garden-fresh produce will not abate. Currently the zucchini and tomatoes are growing as fast as we can pick them and the basil is burgeoning. Ratatouille demands to be made. I have tried several different ratatouille recipes before, but none of them really knocked me out of the park. This one is simple to make and so delicious, I literally said “wow!” after I took my first bite… and second… and third. I also had fun making this in my kitchen. I sent a short video of sprinkling basil into the bubbling Dutch oven to a friend of mine. “Food is magic!” She said. Yes, it is.

Ratatouille – adapted from https://cookieandkate.com/best-ratatouille-recipe/

4 servings

Ingredients

2 pounds ripe red tomatoes (6 medium or 4 large)
1 medium eggplant (1 pound), diced into 1/2-inch cubes
1 large red, orange, or yellow bell pepper (about 8 ounces), cut into 3/4-inch squares
1 medium-to-large zucchini (about 8 ounces), diced into 1/2-inch cubes
1 large yellow squash (about 8 ounces), diced into 1/2-inch cubes
5 tablespoons + 1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil, divided
3/4 teaspoon fine sea salt, divided, more to taste
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, pressed or minced
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, more or less to taste
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Instructions

1) Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit with one rack in the middle of the oven and one in the upper third of the oven. Line two large, rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper for easy clean-up, if desired.

2) To prepare your tomatoes, remove any woody cores with a paring knife. Then, grate them on the large holes of a box grater into a bowl (this is easiest if you hold the tomato at a diagonal), and chop any remaining tomato skin. Or, blitz the tomatoes in a food processor until they are broken into a frothy pulp. Set aside.

3) On one baking sheet, toss the diced eggplant with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil until lightly coated. Arrange the eggplant in a single layer across the pan, sprinkle with 1/4 teaspoon of the salt, and set aside.

4) On the other baking sheet, toss the bell pepper, zucchini and yellow squash with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Arrange the vegetables in a single layer. Place the eggplant pan on the middle rack and the other vegetables on the top rack. Set the timer for 15 minutes.

5) Meanwhile, warm 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large Dutch oven or soup pot over medium heat. Add the onion and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is tender and caramelizing on the edges, about 8 to 10 minutes.

6) Add the garlic, stir, and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the tomatoes, and use a wooden spoon or sturdy silicone spatula to stir any browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan into the mixture. Reduce the heat to medium-low, or as necessary to maintain a gentle simmer.

7) Once 15 minutes are up, remove both pans from the oven, stir, and redistribute the contents of each evenly across the pans. This time, place the eggplant on the top rack and other vegetables on the middle rack.

8) Bake until the eggplant is nice and golden on the edges, about 10 more minutes (the eggplant will be done sooner than the rest). Remove the eggplant from the oven, and carefully stir the eggplant into the simmering tomato sauce.

9) Let the squash and bell pepper pan continue to bake until the peppers are caramelized, about 5 to 10 more minutes. Then, transfer the contents of the pan into the simmering sauce. Continue simmering for 5 more minutes to give the flavors time to meld.

10) Remove the pot from the heat. Stir in 1 teaspoon olive oil, the fresh basil and red pepper flakes. Crumble the dried oregano between your fingers as you drop it into the pot. Season to taste with additional salt (I usually add 1/4 teaspoon more) and black pepper.

11) Serve in bowls, with a side of crusty bread, perhaps with a little drizzle of olive oil, additional chopped basil, Parmesan cheese, or black pepper on top (all optional). Like all stews, this ratatouille’s flavor improves as it cools, or reheated the next day.

Finding Hope, Love, and Purpose in “Finding the Mother Tree”

Can someone help me out? I don’t remember who recommended this book to me, but I want to thank them. Here’s the setting: myself and an intelligent woman I know are sitting at a wooden table across from each other, drinking beer. We are talking about books and she tells me about Finding the Mother Tree – how it’s about the ancient tree deep in old forests that shares information throughout the forest. The mother tree teaches younger trees and helps to raise them. I look at my friend with skepticism. “It’s a real thing!” she says, and tells how the author – originally from the logging industry – did decades of research to eventually learn this. The thing is, I do not remember who this woman was or where we were! At the Biergarten with Shelley? At the Public Market with Jess? At a pub with Jen? All three of them deny that they have read it. Regardless, I recently picked up the book by Suzanne Simard to learn what it was all about.

Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest is part memoir and part history of Simard’s research on fungal networks in forests. It took me almost half the book to get used to the memoir part; I think I wasn’t expecting it, and initially it felt weirdly stilted and forced. Once it clicked, however, I realized how vital it was to the story as a whole…

Simard realized when she was working as a silviculturist that the young trees planted in clear-cut areas where the old growth had been removed were sickly and dying. She had a hunch about the fungus she saw growing at the base of healthy trees and embarked on research… eventually doing Master’s work, and Doctoral, and Post-Doc research. She learned how certain species of fungus help trees to share water and nutrients. How they can give and take depending on which trees are more in need at different times, or on the strengths and weaknesses of different species of trees. Trees can even share warnings about threats – helping to prevent deaths from oncoming insects and more. Reading about her research was exciting: the next piece of the sophisticated communication via the “wood wide web” already starting to come into view as the previous piece was placed. It was also hopeful: understanding the deep level of connectivity and symbiosis at play in nature was somehow comforting. The confirmation that forest life is just as vibrant and wise as you *feel* it is when you step into the woods feels… well, it feels like rediscovering religion in a way.

It is the trees that bring together Simard with her family and friends and lovers. It is the trees that teach Simard how to cope with the untimely death of her younger brother, mere months before his only child was born. It is the trees that teach Simard how to let go of her marriage when it was dying in order to put new life into her children and into other relationships where it was needed. It was the trees (yes, and her loved ones) that taught her how to rebuild after she battled cancer, and to maintain connections with a family spread across Canada and the US. When she first found a mother tree in an area of old growth, it was the trees that reaffirmed her role as a mother. Her life – *all* of our lives – reflects the life of the forest. They complement and help each other. And most hopeful of all, they show signs that we can adapt and grow in a changing world, by sharing ourselves. Nature has so much to offer us – if we are willing to open ourselves up to accept it.

This is a fascinating and important book for understanding forest ecosystems and the world at large. It is easy to compare this book to Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer; both are a blend of memoir and science writing and reflections on growing things. Finding the Mother Tree has more of an overarching “plot”, whereas Kimmerer’s book is a collection of essays. For people who started to feel bogged down in the middle of Braiding Sweetgrass, tiring of the essays which started to feel too-similar after a while, Finding the Mother Tree may be more for you. Kimmerer is more of a poet and a better writer (which is more to my taste) and so I still think of Braiding Sweetgrass as my favorite between the two. Maybe picking favorites isn’t right… maybe they complement and support each other, like the Three Sisters. Kimmerer’s writing is sprinkled with Ojibwe words and Simard’s with French-Canadian sayings – these are the flowers growing over the moss, and their research is the fruiting bodies. And that is nourishing, body and heart, to those of us who open up to receive it.

Three Sisters Stew

Three Sisters may be a reference to the Gorgons of Greek mythology, King Lear’s daughters, the Brontës, or a 1901 Anton Chekhov play… It is also the name for squash, corn, and beans, grown together especially by Indigenous North Americans; using companion planting lets the cornstalk act as a trellis for beans to climb, the beans fix nitrogen in the soil, and the squash plant shade the ground, providing a synergy which all three plants benefit from. They are also often cooked together for a delicious and nutritious meal!

I found this soup recipe online by chance, but was tickled to find that the food blogger said she originally found the recipe on the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel website and was from “a local casino chef”. I used to live across the river from Potowatomi Casino, and I remember looking out at its lights from my dorm my freshman year in college. Although I’ve never been inside (or in any casino), I’m aware that Poto has a good reputation for its food, so I was eager to try this recipe. I made it when my parents were visiting us for a weekend, served with some leftover cornbread. Everyone loved it – even my dad and Joe who don’t usually like squash. I will definitely be making this again.

Three Sisters Stew
adapted from Art of Natural Living
Serves 8

1 Tbsp olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium onion, diced
1 medium green pepper, coarsely chopped
2-3 cups pumpkin or other winter squash, cubed (I used butternut squash)
1 can (14.5-16 oz) diced tomatoes with juice
1-2 jalapeño peppers, finely chopped
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained (about 2 cups)
2 cups corn kernels from 2-3 ears of corn
2 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
2 cups vegetable stock
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro

1.) In a large pot, heat the oil. Add garlic, onion, green pepper, and squash, and sauté a few minutes over medium heat. Stir in tomatoes, jalapeños, beans, corn, cumin, oregano, salt, and pepper and cook until hot.
2.) Add stock and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 30 minutes.
3.) Tate and adjust seasoning to your taste or add extra broth if desired. Add a spoonful of cilantro to individual bowls just before serving.

Mythical Retellings and Magical Words: The Song of Achilles and Circe by Madeline Miller

In November of 2021, I drove past the library on my way home from work and saw the “open” sign was glowing orange in the dusk. I’m used to getting home too late for the library to still be open, but that day I was lucky. Without thinking about it, I turned and pulled into the parking lot. I strolled through the aisles, indulging in the experience of being surrounded by hundreds of books. One stood out to me, it’s copper-red and black spine calling from the shelf. I pulled down Circe by Madeline Miller and sat to read the first couple pages.

Circe enchanted me immediately. Her voice sounded so clear in my mind; I could see her world – vivid and beautiful even when cruel; and her desires were palpable. I checked out the book to take it home and devoured it. I loved Miller’s writing style, I loved the way details from mythology were woven together to create such real characters. I really felt that Circe’s personality and the themes of transformation, the self, power, and love all flowed naturally from the story. I even learned a bit about mythology! Some of the stories (such as Circe’s interactions with Glaucus and Scylla, or her relationship with Telemachus) I had never heard before and assumed were inventions for the sake of the story; when I looked them up, I was surprised to find that Miller did have classical sources for all of it! Circe lived in my head for weeks after that, and I wanted more.

I knew Miller had written another book, The Song of Achilles, which won the Orange Prize for Fiction and was very popular. I knew had to read it. I even read The Iliad to prepare. A couple months later when I handed a copy to the cashier in a bookstore to checkout she exclaimed “Oh I loved that book!” I excitedly assumed that I was going to love the experience of reading The Song of Achilles even more than Circe. I looked at it on my too-read shelf for nearly a year, anticipation building each time I walked past and thought to myself “soon.” …This past weekend, I was extremely sick. In one day of laying on the couch as I was recovering, I read the entire book.

I am sorry to say, I was disappointed. Patroclus, as the main character, is useless. I realize this is harsh, but he can’t hear me, otherwise I would worry about hurting his feelings. Patroclus worries a lot. He says “I don’t know,” a lot. He avoids doing things out of fear of failure or reprimand or distaste and takes no initiative in his life. His sole characteristic for most of the book is “in love with Achilles.” It’s hard not to love Achilles, looking at him through Patroclus’s eyes, although Achilles is pretty empty, too. In beautiful, gifted Achilles “empty” fits, but I expect Patroclus to be his foil – caring, wise, willing to give tempered counsel to his hotheaded and prideful companion. Instead, this version of the classic character mostly just mopes and hides. Throughout the book, Achilles and Patroclus really spend a lot of time just looking at each other and developing very little as people. Perhaps I could forgive that, even, if some of the other things I loved from Circe were present. However, there were enough deviations from the sources (Patroclus is younger instead of older, Achilles’ relationship with Briseis is deleted, etc) that frustrated me. The themes I hoped to find felt absent or underdeveloped. Essentially, I went into this book expecting literature, and what I got was a teen romance.

Miller’s descriptive writing is nevertheless wonderful and compelling, although it is not yet quite as polished here as it is in Circe – this is her debut novel, after all. I fell in love with Achilles despite myself; I adored Odysseus, Chiron, and Briseis and detested Agamemnon and feared Thetis along with Patroclus. The amazing thing about it is her characters feel so universal – like I could pick them up and set them down in a early 20^th century British boy’s boarding school and almost nothing would change. (And yet also at times I felt they should be *more Greek* somehow.) I found this to be a page-turner, and I was moved by Patroclus and Achilles’ deep affection.

I built a lot of expectations around The Song of Achilles, and I think some of my disappointment may simply be due to that. I do believe Miller’s second novel was an improvement upon her first, so I hope her trajectory continues on its skyward flight.

Circe: 4.5/5 ⭐ (November 2021)
Song of Achilles: 3.25/5 ⭐ (March 2023)

The Oscars (of Books)

Each year LitHub does a “If They Gave Oscars to Books” in which they rank books published in the last year in various categories. I decided I wanted to complete my own version using only the books I read in the last year. My categories are a little different than LitHub’s, but I had fun thinking about this. Here is what I came up with:

Actor in a Leading Role (Best Male Main Character): Detective Meyer Landsman in The Yiddish Policemen’s Union by Michael Chabon.
This book was so vivid, sharp, and entertaining – I enjoyed it even in an extremely sick and sleep-deprived state early last year. Meyer is a believable – and lovable, even when flawed – noir protagonist updated for the early 2000s.

Actor in a Supporting Role (Best Male Side Character): Rocky in Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir.
This wasn’t the best book I read last year, but Rocky was absolutely the best part of it. What I did love in the book, I loved because of Rocky.

Actress in a Leading Role (Best Female Main Character): Keiko Furukura in Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata.
Keiko is not like other people, but Murata helps us see the world through her eyes. Without wanting to “diagnose” Keiko simply because she is different, I think this is a skillful portrayal of someone who is perhaps not “neurotypical.”

Actress in a Supporting Role (Best Female Side Character): Ma Yingzi in She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan.
Without discussing plot points, I felt Ma Yingzi was a good foil to Zhu Chongba. Both in that she was good-hearted, and also good at showing how corrupt Zhu would become.

Add a Category! – Best Non-Binary Character: Zhu Chongba in She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan.
Zhu Chongba was born a girl, but knows she has to take her brother’s destiny if she is going to survive, so she tries to hide her sex from everyone – in some ways even from herself – so she can truly focus on her rise to power. Her relationship with her sex is somewhat complicated which I found very sympathetic.
Runner up: Mosscap in A Psalm for the Wildbuilt by Becky Chambers. Don’t get me wrong, I love Dex. I think a lot of us saw ourselves in Dex. But at this moment, reflecting on the book, Mosscap gave me what I needed.

Animated Feature Film (Graphic Novel): Saga Volume 10 by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples (illustrator).
I didn’t read as many graphic novels or comics this year as I normally do, but I think Saga takes the cake. Not because this volume stands above the rest of Saga – it doesn’t – but because Saga stands so far above nearly everything else. Can I make it through a volume without crying? We have yet to find out.

Cinematography (Setting): A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark.
I had one or two complaints about this book, but the setting was never one of them. You might think a steampunk Egypt which recently wrested itself away from British rule and finds itself in the middle of a feminist movement while run amok with supernatural creatures seems a like a busy place for a sapphic detective story but… it’s perfect. The Dead Djinn Universe felt so real, and so wonderful, I wanted to fall into it and just breathe it all in. …And also eat at literally any restaurant mentioned.

Costume Design (Best Cover Art): She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker Chan, art by Jung Shang
I don’t know that much about visual arts, but I think this is an effective cover: the black, the gold, Zhu Chongba posting up against her destiny…
Runner up: The Yiddish Policemen’s Union by Michael Chabon, jacket design by Will Staehle from wikipedia “features an amalgam of styles (like the novel itself), drawing on classic pulp detective novel, Jewish imagery, and art from the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, especially that of the Tlingit and Haida peoples.”

Directing (Favorite Author): Anthony Ray Hinton with Lara Love Hardin and Bryan Stevenson for The Sun Does Shine: How I Found Life and Freedom on Death Row.
Anthony Ray Hinton spent 30 years on death row for a crime he did not commit. His memoir is beautiful and inspiring and in its pages we find an amazing human being. I wish I could shake Mr. Hinton’s hand.

Documentary Feature Film (Best Nonfiction Book): A Life on Our Planet: My Witness Statement and a Vision for the Future by David Attenborough
This book even feels like a David Attenborough documentary as you read it. I bought this one for my mom for Christmas two years ago, and then borrowed it from her when she was done. “The first half is depressing, but it gets better in the second half,” she told me. I found a bookmark placed at the transition from scary to hopeful.

Documentary Short Film (Best Essay Collection): Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer.
What can I say about this book that can possibly do it justice? This is the best book I have read in years, and I hold it close to my heart, now. I initially thought of picking just one chapter from the book to call “best essay” but I couldn’t narrow it down, so I’m awarding it to the whole book, instead.

Film Editing (Editor of a Collection or Magazine): Jonathan Strahan for The Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year.
I didn’t know how to read short fiction until I was compelled to read a bunch of it for my Hugo’s reading project last year. When it finally clicked, I re-discovered Volume Seven of Strahan’s yearly collections on a lower bookshelf in my house and realized that it was a treasure trove of wonderful stories. Strahan has a good eye for choosing the right stories for the collection.

International Feature Film (Book in Translation): Defying Hitler by Sebastian Haffner, Oliver Pretzel (translator)
This is Pretzel’s translation of his father’s unfinished memoir of “his life and the political events in Germany from 1914, when he was seven years old, until 1933” that preserves Haffner’s reflections and thoughts in the moment of extreme change. It is eye-opening, at times fuel for imagination. The writing is occasionally less-than-clear – possibly an artifact of translation. Yet, I think this is an extremely important book, and a highly compelling read.

Makeup and Hairstyling (Best Mystery/Thriller/or Horror Book): The Yiddish Policemen’s Union by Michael Chabon
Admittedly, this category really doesn’t hold that much competition, but this Hugo and Nebula joint winner is a highly worthy book.

Music (Best Book-Related Social Media): Milwaukee Public Library – bonus to their Stephen King homage
I have abolished most of my social media accounts, but I always support my local library. MPL’s videos are 🔥

Best Picture (Best “Literary” Fiction Book): If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin
Lyrical, soul-touching, intense.
Runner up: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë – I have so many thoughts, y’all.

Production Design (Best Publisher): Small Beer Press
My first book from Small Beer Press was A Stranger in Olondria by Sofia Samatar, later I realized they have published the translations of Angélica Gorodischer’s books, and at WorldCon I picked up a copy of Sarah Pinsker’s collection of short stories. Seeing Small Beer Press’s name is now a recommendation for me.

Short Film (Animated) (Best Children’s Book): I Kissed the Baby by Mary Murphy.
This is a black and white book ideal for very little babies. I read it over and over with my daughter. I highly recommend heartily kissing the baby you are holding when you read the page out loud that says “ppfffwah!” 10/10.
Runner up: Hedgehog’s Big Adventure by Ross Williams and Gavin Scott. I have this so many times it is now memorized, which came in handy when I was trying to get my daughter to fall asleep on an overnight flight across the country.

Short Film (Live Action) (Best Short Story): The Tomato Thief by Ursula Vernon.
Ok, this is more of a “long” story, a kind-of sequel to Jackalope Wives, but I loved it intensely. Ursula Vernon rocketed up into a favored status for me after reading this. I am so happy I stumbled across it last spring.

Sound (Best Poetry): Beowulf: A New Translation by Maria Dahvana Headley (translator)
When I first heard a new translation of Beowulf was being published, I thought to myself “why? We already have Seamus Heaney’s version. What else do we need?” Then I heard that the debated first word (should it be “Hark!”, “Lo!”, or “Listen!”?) she translates as “Bro!”. I cackled out loud to myself and immediately bought three copies to share. This is a translation that is fun, smart, and really shows how important the role of translator is in interpreting a text.

Visual Effects (Best Sci-Fi/Fantasy Novel): The Past is Red by Catherynne M. Valente
I don’t want to repeat myself too much since I have already written about how deeply this book affected me and about meeting Cat Valente at WorldCon. I loved this book and I am grateful for it. This book was also a finalist for the inaugural The Ursula K. Le Guin Prize for Fiction.

Writing (Adapted Screenplay) (Best Book Adaptation): “The Sandman” Season 1 on Netflix
This is the correct way to do an adaptation. *Chef’s kiss* Perfection. I am hoping we get 1 or 2 shots of Dream’s eyes next season, though.

Writing (Original Screenplay) (Best Prose): Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo.
Ok, this was another one I read while sick and sleep-deprived early last year, but I remember telling myself to try to stay awake because the words were beautiful and I wanted to savor them.
Runners Up: Eat Up! by Ruby Tandoh for the delectable descriptions of food; and “Where Oaken Hearts do Gather” by Sarah Pinsker for being so damn interesting.

Broken Arctic Dreams

Throughout my childhood, I was aware of Arctic Dreams sitting on my father’s bookshelf in a place of honor. Last year on a whim, I picked up a copy from the bookstore, eager to read it as soon as I had a chance. Especially following Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, I hoped to find another book full of balance of the poetic and scientific, a look at nature which reminded me how to relearn wonder, an environmentalist critique, and an examination of indigenous traditions and stories which grow with the land. It was *almost* all the above. Almost.

Perilous, and devastatingly beautiful – that is the Arctic that Barry Lopez knows. It is a land of darkness and brutality, but also of splendor and awe. Through travels in the far North, Lopez learned about the tundra, the animals, the stars, the dance of the ice, and about respect for the indigenous way of life there. The wildlife that makes the Arctic their home has adapted to live in extreme conditions, yet the people who have tried to “tame” the icy desert historically found only despair. In each chapter of his book, Arctic Dreams, Lopez dives deep into one aspect of the Arctic and from there builds a portrait that encompasses the fine to the grand – from a close look at an individual hair on a polar bear, all the way to an iceberg many miles wide. Arctic Dreams has been lauded as a “timeless meditation on the ability of the landscape to shape our dreams[…].” Although I found many moments in the book thought provoking, I felt that Lopez failed to capture the humanity of the indigenous people, and his sparkling descriptions occasionally veered into Orientalism which kept me from truly loving the book as much as I had hoped I would.

Arctic Dreams starts with a journey of the mind, up and down a line of longitude to illustrate the travels of the Earth and the Sun. Time in the Arctic is altered from time as we experience it in the temperate zones. Day and night are not distinct things, although summer and winter are. Life in the arctic follows a unique flow of time – following migrations or seasonal patterns of behavior at opposite ends of the year. And it’s not just at the solstice when light and shadow appear unfamiliar to us – the angle of sunlight through the atmosphere changes the appearance of the sky, and the reflection off the snow and ice lead to distortions of distance and scale. A small crack nearby deceived many a mapmaker into believing in mountain ranges on the horizon; a hunting polar bear may seem to be only a rodent among the snow until far too late for its prey to respond. Reading about the arctic light reminded me of one of my favorite books, The Left Hand of Darkness – a tense part of the novel follows Genly Ai and Estraven attempting to navigate over a glacier and realizing how important darkness and shadows truly are when everything around them is white and indecipherable. A person may think that it is the cold that sets the Arctic apart from the rest of the world, but what seems even more alien is that difference in the quality of light and dark.

Of course, the cold is indeed harsh, and all life in the Arctic must deal with that. Lopez chooses to focus on three animals in minute detail – muskoxen, polar bears, and narwhals. He explains how each stays warm, finds food, and cares for its young in a world of ice. In some ways, it feels reminiscent of reading Moby Dick – a vast trove of knowledge in which no individual fact needs to be committed to memory, but the compilation of all of them builds a character of god-like magnificence around the subject.

And what kind of god is the Arctic? Lopez knows there are many who say it is a vengeful god, others who insist it is friendly, but there is a danger in taking in only one account, as each person approaches their journey with their own baggage. The last two chapters of Arctic Dreams focus on the history of Western expeditions in the Arctic – a history which is filled with the kind of arrogance and ignorance that lead to death. Although the indigenous peoples in the Arctic had learned the best way to survive, English explorers viewed them as inferior and insisted on sticking to their own familiar methods of survival which were woefully inadequate.

Lopez admires the intimate knowledge the indigenous peoples have of the land, however he unfortunately does not write of the people with the same diligence he grants the wildlife. Lopez accords multiple explorers including Robert Peary personalities, strengths, weaknesses, and aspirations. Yet whenever Lopez mentions an interaction with a native person, one has the feeling he is describing that person with the same impersonal manner he might write about a random sled dog. In the notes to the book, Lopez frankly states that the term “Eskimo” (coming from a word for “raw meat eaters”) is considered offensive and that the peoples in the Arctic have their own preferred names – Yup’ik, Inupiat, Inuvialuit… but chooses to use “Eskimo” almost exclusively throughout the book, anyway. From an author who differentiates between nearly identical species of birds and delineates the divergences between closely related species of bear, it seems not only lazy and rude, but also deprives the readers of information. Each time he used “Eskimo” instead of another favored name, I grew frustrated and wished I knew more about which nation was actually being referenced or about the individual who was part of the story.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only shortcoming in Lopez’s writing – he frequently called things of beauty “Oriental” or compared water or icebergs to various items from Japan or Tibet. He equates the movement of the Northern Lights to Tai Chi exercises. On average once per chapter this tendency towards Orientalism flared up, and each time I was taken out of the moment, rolling my eyes a little, and took a while to find my groove again. This type of fetishization of Eastern cultures was probably a little more acceptable when the book was written nearly 40 years ago, but I do believe Lopez was capable of better writing and more thoughtfulness, so this was a disappointment.

Lopez is of course writing from his own perspective as a white, Western man, and is writing for a white, Western audience. In and of itself, there is nothing wrong with that. In this case, given how important the indigenous cultures are to our understanding of the North, the book feels severely lacking without a more considerate focus on modern indigenous Arctic peoples.

I did enjoy much of the information in Arctic Dreams, and Barry Lopez did succeed in creating a desire for more, but my pet peeves with the writing in this book kept me from being as transported as I had hoped. I certainly am in the mood to watch a documentary or two about the Arctic now, but it is less likely I will pick up another book by Barry Lopez, soon… not when I still have more to read by Robin Wall Kimmerer, anyway!

Marie Cooks Skyrim: Cabbage Soup

I originally wrote this blog post about a year ago, but never posted it for some reason. I recently made this soup again – it seems perfect for January – and devoured it. It is a little bit rich from the slightly-caramelized onions and the parmesan, it is nutty and toasty from the farro, yet healthy in that way that makes you feel a little more awake in winter. (Do you know what I mean? Sometimes I really need vegetables in the winter to feel less like the cold and dark are weighing down on me.) Here is the post as I wrote it a year ago:

There are people who can do it all. I am not one of them. So when a combination of stress and morning sickness made writing this blog no longer enjoyable last year, I stopped. I always hoped to pick it back up to continue discussing the books I get to read and keeping notes on the recipes I like, but it never felt like the time, until now.

The foods you can make in Skyrim include both cabbage potato soup and cabbage soup. This always seemed like too much cabbage for me, and I had already found a cabbage potato soup that I liked, so why would I make a second cabbage soup? Then this soup from Six Seasons walked across my radar and I was certain it would be the one. A soup described as “cozy” by multiple people around the internet sounded like what I wanted to make on a dreary, drizzly, winter day.

Joe took Dad-duty for the day and I picked up some of the errands he usually does and got to do my first cooking adventure in several months. But, um… see above about not being able to do it all. I burned the bread. I burned the soup. (Can a person burn soup? Yes.) And still I felt good about being able to check off a couple more items on my cooking project.

Comforting Cabbage, Onion, and Farro Soup
adapted from Six Seasons: A New Way with Vegetables by Joshua McFadden and Martha Holmberg
Serves 4

1 pound green cabbage
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled
1 sprig rosemary or thyme
1 Tablespoon white wine vinegar
2/3 cup farro
4 cups broth
1 Tablespoon fresh lemon juice
freshly grated parmesan

1. Cut out the cabbage core and finely chop the core. Then cut the leaves into fine shreds.
2. Heat 1/4 cup olive oil in a Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the sliced onions and the cabbage core with a pinch of salt and a little bit of pepper. Cook, stirring frequently, until the onion starts to soften, but not brown (OK, I browned them, I couldn’t help myself, but it was delicious) approx 10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another 5 minutes until the garlic is soft, too.
3. Add the shredded cabbage leaves and herbs. Cover the pot and let steam for a bit to soften the leaves, then toss the cabbage to help it wilt and soften more. Cook, covered until the cabbage is tender – approx 30 minutes, you may need to turn down the heat a little to keep it from browning. (again, mine did brown, but I thought it added a layer of flavor that made the soup extra-cozy)
4. Meanwhile, in another saucepan, heat a splash of olive oil over medium heat. Add the farro and cook, stirring constantly, until the farro is lightly toasted – approx 5-8 minutes.
5. When the cabbage is ready, stir in the vinegar.
6. Scrap the farro into the cabbage pot and add 4 cups of broth. Adjust the heat to a simmer and simmer until the farro is tender – 25 to 35 minutes.
7. Stir in the lemon juice. The soup should be very thick. You may add a little more broth or water if you feel it needs it.
8. Taste and adjust seasonings, then serve with a hearty sprinkle of parmesan on top and a little drizzle of olive oil if desired.

Lessons From Reading 52 Books in a Year

Reading 52 books in a year is a benchmark I hear referenced often from other readers online. There is something about the target of one book for each week of the year that feels a little impressive, a sign of dedication to the love of reading. Since I started keeping track of the books I’ve read once I had finished grad school, I have averaged 25-30 a year. I never really thought to set a goal for the number of books I planned to read, before. To me it seemed silly – I just enjoy reading, why set targets for something when I could just enjoy reading whatever I felt like? But when halfway through 2022 I realized I was on track for 52 books, I decided to try to keep the momentum going and aim for 52.

Reading all the nominees for the Hugos was part of the reason my book count was higher this year: I read 25 science fiction/ fantasy books, 16 non-fiction books, 6 comic books, and 5 general fiction books. My favorites were: The Past is Red by Catherynne M. Valente, The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers, Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, Defying Hitler by Sebastian Haffner, and The Sun Does Shine by Anthony Ray Hinton.

I thought reading nearly twice as many books as I normally do would feel twice as good, somehow. I thought I might look at my to-read list and feel twice as accomplished, like I had actually made a dent in it… Ha! The to-read list grows exponentially, but my reading pace is steady. I think reading faster will only make me feel farther away from completion. I was surprised to find, although I was happy to have had the opportunity to read so many books this year, there were some downsides as well.

One significant downside for me was I felt like I didn’t really “get to know” the books in the same way that I did when I was reading fewer books. When I read a little less, I got to spend time with each book, letting it sink in and really developing a relationship with it. This year, I felt like maybe that “relationship” with each book was a little rushed. Once I closed the cover on one book I was reaching for the next, instead of sitting and ruminating on each book I read for a few days before picking up the next one. The “book hangover” as it’s sometimes called is often an enjoyable period for me, when little things throughout the day will remind me of a character who enchanted me, a theme that resonated, or a detail of the setting or plot that was fascinating. I missed that time a little, and the way it imprinted my favorite books in my mind.

The biggest downside I found was that many other habits and hobbies fell to the wayside in order to fit in that much reading. I stopped working out for example, and I meditated a lot less. In the late summer I had the realization that the hobby I loved the most – reading – was becoming something that was making me *less* happy by keeping me from doing things that are important for my mental and physical health. Although I am really pleased that I read 52 books last year, I do not believe I will set goals for a greater and greater volume of reading again.

By finishing 52 books this year, I realized how motivating it was to work toward a concrete, achievable goal. It prompted me to pick another goal for 2023: to walk the distance from the Shire to Mordor (1799 miles) by the end of the year. I know it will be a stretch, but I also know from finishing my 52 books that I am capable of making time in my week to work towards something I want to accomplish. I wonder what I will learn from doing this challenge, next.