#DRAWMYBOOKS December 2024
WHAT the FUCK is this BOOK!! Wow! Son of a BITCH! Holy SHIT! If you haven’t guessed by now, I love the graphic novel Moose by Max de Radiguès! This book’s back cover made some big promises to me about a “difficult moral dilemma” that “will keep you thinking long after you close the covers.” I initially considered this to be a bold claim, but after I finished reading Moose, I am happy to declare that I did not get tricked by a dishonest description and this back cover blurb was SPOT ON.
Moose is a short graphic novel focused on Joe, a high school student who is bullied by another student named Jason. Despite freezing weather, Joe avoids taking the bus to school and walks in the cold in order to avoid Jason’s constant abuse. Jason is a menacing young man—he draws a penis on Joe’s face with a black marker, and later even pushes his own penis near Joe’s face in a terrifying threat. It is easy at times to believe that Jason is completely unredeemable, and he seems to really hate Joe and continues to escalate his attacks. At one point, Joe is hiding from Jason and his friend Oliver, and Oliver sees Joe but leads Jason elsewhere. Oliver doesn’t seem interested in bullying Joe and even asks Jason, “Can’t we just play basketball for once?” In response, Jason bashes Oliver’s face against a door, saying, “Do you want to go back to ‘no friends’ land where you came from?!”
Although the school counselor seems well-meaning, Joe does not feel comfortable enough to disclose the harassment to him, and most other adults in Joe’s life only seem to exist to scold him or simply be oblivious to Jason’s beatings. Joe’s math teacher Mr. Mint seems particularly gullible as Jason sits behind Joe and hurts him when the teacher’s back is turned to the board. Instead of taking an active interest in the safety of his students, Mr. Mint is simply annoyed at the interruptions, turning back to say, “What now Joe!?” and later, “Jeez Louise Joe…” when he is bleeding. Sarah the school nurse is aware of the situation (“I don’t know how you manage to hide it from your parents and teachers. It’s written on your face that you’re bullied!”) but says nothing, and her office seems to exist as a safe space for Joe.
The story takes a turn midway through that upends the power dynamics between Joe and Jason, and the rest of the book is very hard to put down as it races to its impressive conclusion. Did Joe do the right thing? This is a great book because of the fact that, despite my own strong opinions, I can never truly answer this question definitively. A bullying story that morphs into a morality tale with quiet grace (and excellent drawings), I cannot recommend this book enough, just because I want to talk to more people about how cool I think this book is. I rate Moose by Max de Radiguès as five-out-of-five-stars! Holy HELL!!
Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain
I admit to not knowing very much about Anthony Bourdain before reading this book, which is part of the reason why I selected it. Anthony Bourdain seemed mysterious and I wanted to know more about him, plus I always tend to enjoy a good look behind the curtain when it comes to inside accounts such as Kitchen Confidential. I am unhappy to report this book was not nearly as fun to read as I had hoped it would be! Kitchen Confidential starts out strong, with Bourdain detailing his early work in various restaurants, as well as the James Bond-type of shenanigans he used to pull to get to the head of the class at the Culinary Institute of America: “No one could figure out how I coaxed such hearty flavor out of a few chicken bones, or made such wonderful fish fumet with fish racks and shrimp shells, all in the limited time available. Had my instructors given me a pat-down before class they might have learned my secret: two glassine envelopes of Minor’s chicken and lobster base inside my chef’s coat, for that little extra kick. They never figured it out.”
Personally, I was hoping to read some “cooks behaving badly” stories in this book, and Bourdain did not disappoint me in the slightest with screwy recollections like this: “On my first day in Gino’s New York, I found that the extremely well-paid head of prep could not so much as peel an onion—when he deigned to show up at work at all. When I inquired, I was matter-of-factly informed by the New York GM that he was the boss’s coke dealer, kept around so that the boss and upper management could conveniently re-up if their little screw-top bottles ran empty.” In the chapter titled, “From Our Kitchen to Your Table,” Bourdain shares many common-sense tips and tricks for diners eating at restaurants, like avoiding those with uncleaned bathrooms: “If the restaurant can’t be bothered to replace the puck in the urinal or keep the toilets and floors clean, then just imagine what their refrigeration and work spaces look like. Bathrooms are relatively easy to clean. Kitchens are not.”
To single out some of Bourdain’s opinions on food that I agree with, I was pleased with his apt assessment of my least favorite meat: “Chickens are dirty. They eat their own feces, are kept packed close together like in a rush-hour subway, and when handled in a restaurant are most likely to infect other foods, or cross-contaminate them. And chicken is boring. Chefs see it as a menu item for people who don’t know what they want to eat.” Additionally, Bourdain also pays garlic the proper amount of respect: “Avoid at all costs that vile spew you see rotting in oil in screw-top jars. Too lazy to peel fresh? You don’t deserve to eat garlic.” Although at times I enjoyed the braggadocious rhythm of Bourdain’s humor, more often than not, the author comes off as bombastic and arrogant.
It was disappointing to read Bourdain complain about vegetarians, as it secretly reveals a lack of culinary creativity:“Vegetarians are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit, an affront to all I stand for, the pure enjoyment of food.” I strongly believe I would have enjoyed this book twice as much if it had been half as long, but as it stands, the author wore out his welcome long before I was finished reading Kitchen Confidential. There was a distracting amount of grammatical errors throughout this book, and although I enjoyed how the book was formatted with different parts named after different parts of a meal (“Appetizer,” “First Course,” etc.), another round of edits would have greatly improved some reader accessibility issues. A chapter titled “The Level of Discourse,” which includes the author’s definitions of many culinary terms, is bafflingly placed towards the end of the book instead of the beginning. I would have appreciated having “waitron” defined before seeing it used on three separate occasions instead of after the fact, especially considering the author calls it an “old-school, ‘70s, term.” Bourdain no longer has an air of mystery for me, and I think I prefer the mystery to the reality. I rate Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain as two-out-of-five-stars and do not recommend this book.
The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle
“The unicorn was weary of human beings. Watching her companions as they slept, seeing the shadows of their dreams scurry over their faces, she would feel herself bending under the heaviness of knowing their names. Then she would run until morning to ease the ache; swifter than rain, swift as loss, racing to catch up with the time when she had known nothing at all but the sweetness of being herself.” Throughout this book, the titular unicorn has various wondrous effects on any living creature she meets. People and animals alike react to her presence with awe, laughter, and tears, but their continued mortal presence creates a new burden in her immortal life. Love is a double-edged sword that can take away as much as it gives, if not more, and this is the biggest lesson learned by the unicorn in The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. At the start of the story, the unicorn is described as keeping watch over the animals in her evergreen forest, and acts as an impartial observer: “Generation after generation, wolves and rabbits alike, they hunted and loved and had children and died, and as the unicorn did none of these things, she never grew tired of watching them.”
After overhearing a hunter say that only one unicorn remains in the world, the unicorn leaves her forest to try to find the other unicorns in the world. The unicorn eventually travels with Schmendrick the magician and Molly Grue, a middle-aged woman who leaves behind a gang of bandits to be with the unicorn. The reason why I chose this book in the first place is because I had read a mention somewhere regarding Molly Grue being angry and hurt at the unicorn for coming too late into her life. As soon as I reached this part of the book, it was obvious not only that I made the right choice, but that this scene is easily the best in the entire story: “Molly said, ‘It’s all right. I forgive you.’ ‘Unicorns are not to be forgiven.’ The magician felt himself growing giddy with jealousy, not only of the touch but of something like a secret that was moving between Molly and the unicorn. ‘Unicorns are for beginnings,’ he said, ‘for innocence and purity, for newness. Unicorns are for young girls.’ Molly was stroking the unicorn’s throat as timidly as though she were blind. She dried her grimy tears on the white mane. ‘You don’t know much about unicorns,’ she said.”
The three travel to King Haggard’s castle in their search for the other unicorns and, in order to disguise the unicorn, Schmendrick transforms her into a young woman. The unicorn, who is called Lady Amalthea in human form, catches the eye of Prince Lír, who begins to go on quests killing monsters in order to impress her, which does not work as well as he hopes. After observing Lady Amalthea’s seeming indifference to Lír’s latest conquest, Molly tells her that she is being cruel, prompting this wavering response: “‘Cruel?’ she asked. ‘How can I be cruel? That is for mortals.’ But then she did raise her eyes, and they were great with sorrow, and with something very near to mockery. She said, ‘So is kindness.’” Prince Lír is the character I have thought about most since reading this story because he is heroic and steadfast to a fault.
Even after finding out about Lady Amalthea’s true form, and after Schmendrick explains that she will need to revert back in order to save the other unicorns, Lír does not stand down when it comes to his feelings about her: “‘I love whom I love,’ Prince Lír repeated firmly. ‘You have no power over anything that matters.’” This is an excellent story that is beautiful, sad, bittersweet, and well-written. I was happy to keep guessing where the story went next, and I was almost never correct. I rate The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle as four-out-of-five-stars and recommend it to anyone looking for an emotionally satisfying fantasy story.
Perfect Little World by Kevin Wilson
“Izzy had not fully understood this particular problem of collective parenting. It was wonderful when a child could look to every adult in the project and think of them as their parent. But, for Izzy, it suddenly dawned on her with a hopelessness that she could not control that if one parent betrayed a child’s trust, then, in the eyes of the children, every parent had betrayed them. No matter how good a parent Izzy might be, if one of the other parents fucked up, it would be her fault, too. Equal attachment, she understood, worked both ways.” Izzy Poole is a recent high school graduate and first-time single mom who is selected, along with nine other families, to join the Infinite Family Project (IFP). This study is led by a child psychologist and three research fellows, and is intended to take place over the course of ten years, following nineteen parents as they live together in a private complex and raise their ten children together from infancy as a collective unit.
Fantastic accommodations are made for the participating families through the study’s extensive funding: the children are given access to round-the-clock care, and the parents have access to job training and additional schooling opportunities. Despite all of these well-thought out preparations, the project is far from a “perfect little world” and is shut down years before the planned end of the study. Perfect Little World by Kevin Wilson explores the many ways this project simultaneously enriches and complicates these families’ lives, and how both the participants’ and researchers’ mistakes endanger the study’s viability. Izzy is grateful to be included as a participant in the IFP; she has no familial support whatsoever, and her lover (who is also Izzy’s high school art teacher) takes his own life when she is still pregnant with their son.
Despite having some misgivings about the project, Izzy steels herself to join the IFP in a crucial meeting with the project’s child psychologist, Dr. Preston Grind, who describes how she (and the other participants) will not be considered their child’s primary parent: “‘[…] You will always see your child and interact with them on a daily basis, but they will only think of you as one of their many parents. It’s a necessary component for the early years of the child’s development, until they are ready to accept the fact of their biological link.’ Izzy felt her skin instantly turn to goose bumps, but she tried to disguise her discomfort by looking as thoughtful as possible, as if she was merely comparing Dr. Grind’s ideas to her own scientific methods for raising children. She felt that perhaps this was more than she could handle, but then she worried that this was part of the test, to judge her ability to accept new ways of thinking. If she wavered, even for a second, the offer would be rescinded, and she would never know what her life could have been. With a primitive instinct, she held on to her emotions until they flattened out, until she felt capable.” After her son Cap is born and she moves to the complex for the study, Izzy seems to experience postpartum depression, and must continuously remind herself why her participation in the IFP is not a mistake: “She thought, for the millionth time, of her future as it lay before her without the aid of this project, working two jobs to make ends meet, her son in the cheapest day care she could find, so tired at the end of the day that her baby felt like an unbreakable curse, failing each and every day until the bottom fell out of the world.”
Because this study is designed to help families receive community support that would be otherwise inaccessible or unaffordable in their lives, the study’s participants have a crucial factor in common: “Most of the people in the complex were either estranged from their own families, or their parents were dead. They knew this was one of the reasons that they had been chosen for the project, which made Izzy feel weird, the idea that they could join the Infinite Family because no one else wanted them. No one would miss them if they disappeared and no one would be there for them if it all fell apart.” I enjoyed how this book examines the kinds of issues that would naturally develop in such a controlled environment; potty-training ten toddlers simultaneously is described as “a kind of war zone, poop and pee everywhere,” and parenting the children of other people becomes its own particular minefield, too: “They became defiant, which stunned the parents and caused them a greater sense of awkwardness as they realized that these children, while born to separate parents, were raised collectively. It was easy to hug another person’s child, to rock them to sleep as they smiled in their dreamlike states. It was altogether something else to punish another person’s child after they had dug their claws into your face.”
I think this book could have been improved if its focus had been on five families (or even eight) instead of ten families in order to spend more time with the supporting characters. Instead, many of the other IFP parents and children tend to blend together because there’s just too many of them, and they aren’t differentiated enough. At one point, Izzy visits her friend Mr. Tannehill with Cap and Maxwell, another child participant in the project, and catches him up on her current life, prompting Mr. Tannehill to say, “‘I believe I need a notebook and a pencil to keep track of all these people, Izzy.’” This is probably supposed to be intended as a light moment of levity, but I think this line unintentionally exposes this book’s greatest weakness. Additionally, I wasn’t a fan of Izzy when, in a moment of uncertainty and frustration, thinks about how “[…] the parents, late at night, worried that Dr. Grind was going to somehow make all their children in the Infinite Family supremely autistic.” I think this entire sentence could be completely cut, and this book would be better for it, instead of potentially promoting incorrect ideas about a neurodevelopmental disorder being “taught” or even “contagious.” Regardless of these imperfections, this book is an extremely interesting and engaging read, and I recommend it to others. I rate Perfect Little World by Kevin Wilson as four-out-of-five-stars.
Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar
If you had asked me as a child to choose a few books to bring along to a deserted island, I think I would have shouted “Wayside School” before you even had an opportunity to finish asking the question. I LOVED these books as a kid, reread them countless amounts of times for fun, and could never get enough of Louis the yard teacher, Mrs. Jewls, and all of her students. I have been meaning to reread this entire four-book series as an adult in order to determine what it is that made these books so special to me as a child. On a surface level, the easiest reason to point to is just how funny these books are. Despite my innumerable rereadings, Sideways Stories from Wayside School STILL made me laugh this go-around. It is impossible not to be amused at a school accidentally built thirty stories high, especially with the ridiculous and wonderful addendum, “The builder said he was very sorry.” Whoopsie doopsie, I guess nobody saw it getting built up, oh well, he apologized, moving on!
Because of the builder’s folly, the students at Wayside School have a pretty great bonus of an extra-large playground in the extra unused lot space, but must also contend with going up and down the stairs every day, which is hardest for Mrs. Jewls’ class on the top floor. Deedee is singularly focused on getting a good ball at recess before all of the best equipment is taken by other students on lower floors, a struggle relatable to plenty of students in schools with far less stairs to traverse. Deedee ignores the warning signs directing students not to jump down the stairs, and Louis Sachar also throws in a line here that is reflective without being condescending, a hard feat to accomplish in children’s literature: “Some children took the stairs two at a time. Deedee took them ten at a time. That was on the way down. It was funny. She never seemed to be in quite the same hurry on the way back up.”
Sharie, the “best student in the class” according to Mrs. Jewls, sleeps during lessons and winds up falling out the window after tossing and turning in her sleep. This description of Sharie waking up on the way down never failed to charm me in my younger years, and it still amuses me so much as an older reader: “After she had fallen ten stories, Sharie woke up. She looked around. She was confused. She wasn’t in Mrs. Jewls’s class, and she wasn’t at home in bed. She couldn’t figure out where she was. She yawned, pulled the hood back over her eyes, and went back to sleep. By that time she had fallen another ten stories.” Beyond the excellent humor throughout this book, there’s also an undercurrent of simple, odd logic that children and adults alike can appreciate. Want to stop a crime? Simply give some bank robbers a reading workbook like Todd does, and tell them that knowledge is more valuable than money: “‘Thanks, kid,’ said one of the robbers. ‘Maybe I’ll give up being a criminal and become a scientist,’ said the other. They left the room without hurting anybody.” Want to commit a crime instead? Joy has this covered, as she swipes Dameon’s lunch and scatters the evidence on her classmates’ desks: “‘Look, the Baggie from Dameon’s turkey sandwich is on Jason’s desk!’ Joy called. ‘Very good, Joy,’ said Mrs. Jewls. ‘But how did you know that Dameon had a turkey sandwich?’ ‘I’m just smart,’ said Joy.”
Want to help a disillusioned child be happy again? All you need to do is invent a new flavor of ice cream like Mrs. Jewls: “So Mrs. Jewls worked all night. The next day she brought in a new flavor of ice cream for Maurecia. It was Maurecia-flavored ice cream. ‘Everybody will like it,’ thought Mrs. Jewls, ‘because everybody likes Maurecia.’” This book, like all of the best books, makes sense in a comforting way that the actual real world often does not. I rate Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar a heartfelt five-out-of-five-stars and encourage all readers everywhere to seek this book out, and make your own lives brighter as a result.
Wayside School Is Falling Down by Louis Sachar
Just like Where the Sidewalk Ends and A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein, I read the first two Wayside School books so often during childhood that they blended together for me. No longer! Now, as an adult re-examining these books, the differences between Sideways Stories from Wayside School and its sequel are much more apparent. The most memorable aspects of this book for me as child were Benjamin Nushmutt’s problems getting everyone to call him by his actual name (rather than be continually mistaken as “Mark Miller”) and the three chapters devoted to Allison being trapped on the 19th story, which does not exist. I still consider these plot elements to be the absolute best when it comes to everything this book has to offer. Benjamin is new to Wayside School, and his inner thoughts accurately depict the “new kid” experience: “Everybody stared at the new kid. He stood at the front of the room. His knees were shaking. He hated having to stand in front of the class. It was as if Mrs. Jewls had brought him in for show-and-tell. He felt like some kind of weirdo. He just wanted to sit at a desk and be like everybody else.”
Benjamin is too afraid to correct Mrs. Jewls when she mistakenly introduces him as “Mark Miller” to the class, and spends most of this book working up the courage to set things right. It is tempting for Benjamin to remain Mark Miller, because this name is much easier to pronounce (and be understood by adults) than his actual name: “He cringed. He didn’t know why, but for some reason he had trouble saying his own name.” Benjamin seems to gain more confidence with his new, incorrect moniker and treats it almost like a new identity, despite being the exact same kid: “His grades had never been better. Mark Miller is a lot smarter than Benjamin Nushmutt, he thought. When they chose up teams for kickball, he was always the first one picked. Mark Miller is a better kicker than Benjamin Nushmutt, he realized. The girls in the class liked him too. Mark Miller is better looking than Benjamin Nushmutt, he decided.” The resolution to Benjamin’s dilemma is very satisfying for me even as an adult, and it is a sweet scene when Benjamin tells the class his real name and finds that he is among friends after all.
Allison suddenly becoming invisible to everyone except for the nonexistent Miss Zarves and her students on the 19th story is a masterclass in children’s horror and existentialism. Some of the other students tell Allison they have been in Miss Zarves’ class for years, and even basic human functions do not seem to work in the mysterious realm of the 19th story, as evidenced by the answers Allison receives when she asks about recess: “‘There is no recess,’ said Ray. ‘We’re not allowed out of the classroom.’ ‘What about if you have to go to the bathroom?’ ‘What’s a bathroom?’ asked Virginia. ‘We don’t eat, either,’ said Nick. ‘We just work all the time.’ ‘But we never have homework,’ Virginia said cheerfully. ‘That’s because we never go home,’ said Nick. ‘We get a two-minute break every eleven hours.’” While the resolution to Allison’s misadventure on the 19th story was always satisfying to me as a younger reader, I might actually be more impressed with its underlying message about meaningful work now, as an adult.
Reading this passage in particular, it is easy to think of teachers I have known throughout life who could benefit from reconsidering their own similar teaching methods: “That’s her plan! Allison suddenly realized. She shivered as it all came together for her. Miss Zarves assigns us lots of busy work so we don’t have time to think. She makes us memorize stupid things so that we don’t think about the important things. And then she gives us good grades to keep us happy.” Other highlights of Wayside School Is Falling Down include the running gag of Mac continuously interrupting Mrs. Jewls to tell unrelated stories in class, Myron choosing to be free after talking to the mysterious three men of Wayside School (two with mustaches, and one who is bald), and Kathy trying to make an unhappy D.J. even sadder, and only succeeding in cheering him up. In the first book, D.J. seems wise beyond his years when he reveals to Louis just why he’s so happy (“‘You need a reason to be sad. You don’t need a reason to be happy.’”), and the feelings he expresses in this book only confirm this idea further. After losing his great-grandfather’s watch, Kathy tries mentioning to D.J. all of the reasons why he should feel even more miserable about it, only to be rebuffed at every turn.
Grasping at straws, Kathy says D.J. will now never know the correct time of day, prompting this mind-blowing response from an elementary school student: “‘So?’ asked D.J. ‘Time isn’t real.’ Kathy didn’t know what D.J. meant by that, but she didn’t care.” Sideways Stories from Wayside School, although a perennial favorite of mine, is not without some flaws and chapters that do not land as well as the others for me (I always skipped Jason, Rondi, and Sammy’s chapters in my many rereads). Wayside School Is Falling Down has a larger amount of chapters I failed to connect with, which include “The Best Part,” “Teeth,” “The Mean Mrs. Jewls,” “Pencils” and any of the Miss Mush stories. It was less charming as an adult to read about Mrs. Jewls using heavy-duty masking tape to help Jason stop biting classmates’ pencils in “Pencils”, and Mrs. Jewls completely losing her patience with her students in “The Mean Mrs. Jewls” was also an unpleasant detour. Small gripes aside, I still consider this book to be a classic of children’s literature, and I rate Wayside School Is Falling Down as four-out-of-five-stars.
