First, let’s get this out of the way: Wonder Woman’s boobs are distracting.

Seriously? I admit, I do have some nice bras that might give me the Wonder Woman look (huge boobs, teeny waist), but she’s out there, fighting crime (or evil demon-gods in this one), without adequate mammary support. Seriously, she needs a sports bra. I read through this book and saw her bouncing all over, doing her thing, my chest and upper back just ached. I can’t even do a jumping jack sans sports bra without pulling about ten muscles in my chest and having a boob smack me in the face; how can Wonder Woman be all hi-ya kick punch take that! without some serious soreness? After much pondering on the matter, I’ve decided that her sports bra must be invisible like her airplane because otherwise I think my mind is going to explode.

Am I missing the point of Wonder Woman? I don’t remember the chestiness being such a focus in Wonder Woman Cheetah on the Prowl, my only other exposure to the Wonder Woman universe (I bought my copy, used, at a church rummage sale in December 1989. I paid twenty five cents. The cassette was missing, but my nine year old self was in it for the reading, not the being read to by a cassette tape. The Berlin Wall had just fallen. It was an exciting time for all of us.) I think I might have also seen some episodes of Super Friends when I was five; the wikipedia picture has Wonder Woman in it, so I’ll take that to mean she was a character in it. Still, compare these boobs:

to

TOO. MUCH. BOOB.

As to the story, Wonder Woman feels like her memory is unraveling and can’t get back to Themacypefinae4r3958 (I can’t remember how to spell it). There’s actually some cleverness with the unraveling memory: this is a reboot, there have been other reboots with differing origin stories, imagine if suddenly the memory of all these stories were thrust into your mind. Confusing, no? So I liked that. But then:

in my face.

I’ll stick to looking at my We are all Wonderwomen poster on my wall.

Wonder Woman Volume 1: The Lies (Rebirth) by Greg Rucka and Liam Sharp went on sale February 28, 2017.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

In which meghan realizes that just because she read a lot of true crime/serial killer stories when as a maladjusted eleven year old does not mean that she should be reading a lot of true crime/serial killer stories as a (still maladjusted) adult.

Can that just be my review? At least the murders weren’t described so as to give titillating cheap thrills. At least each victim was named, and, if possible, a teeny bit written about them. So why do I feel so squicky inside for having read this book? I read that whole section of 2666 that was just a list of murdered women without comment. But this — this I just feel dirty inside after reading it.

The Red Ripper by Peter Conradi went on sale September 27, 2016.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

Sometimes, part way through reading a book, I find myself thinking Who would read this book? as if the obvious answer isn’t staring me smack in the face. Who would read this book? Me. I would. For instance, I requested The Inkblots from Netgalley and then laid in bed reading it and I don’t know why I never took that teeny logical jump to realize that. Maybe I needed to read a book about Rorschach and Rorschach tests and start thinking all psychologically to make that leap, because that’s what The Inkblots is all about.

The Inkblots can be divided into three (unofficial — it isn’t like there’s a Section I and Section II and Section III delineated within the text) sections: All about Rorschach, All About People Mucking About With Rorschach Tests after Rorschach Died, Random Segue Into Randomness For The Last Thirty Or Forty Pages Or So. Attacking Section Three first: why? For instance, the vague prison story where no details can be revealed so what’s the point? Or Searls’ Hey I got a Rorschach test done on myself but since it wasn’t for any real purpose except for saying I did it, the process didn’t have meaning the way a Rorschach test would if I did it for actual psychoanalytical purposes? So, Section Three needs serious editing. Kill your darlings Searls. The shift in tone as we go into Section Three (basically in the middle of a sentence) is a bad jolt to the reader and most of Section Three’s content is a shrugs shoulders emoji.

Now let’s go back to Sections One and Two. They were, well, I mean, I don’t really have to attack them the way I did Section Three. They were there, in the book, at the beginning and middle, like a high school report. You know, not everyone needs a biography, even people who come up with important psychological tests (to apply something from the book, total cult of personality thing for Searls to assume that we needed a hundred and fifty-odd pages about Rorschach The Man, that his personality/life merit investigation alongside his test.) Section Two could be thought of as the Rorschach Test’s biography. Again, it isn’t as if the test has that great a personality that it merits another one hundred and fifty-odd pages. I didn’t mind reading about the little changes here and there and the professional squabbling between different psychologists and psychiatrists about what/how/when/why the test should be administered, but I also didn’t mind watching Blended on an airplane when there was absolutely nothing else to do for a few hours. Section Two ends up being superficial because its the biography of a test and tests don’t have fascinating inner lives.

I mean, I want to take a Rorschach Test now and I’m totally the sort of person who would read this book and I did, so I guess the book is a success? Is it? Did I see a butterfly in all those inkblots? I don’t know.

The Inkblots by Damion Searls went on sale February 21, 2017.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

Another quick poetry read. The poems aren’t densely packed and many of the sentiments expressed within are fairly emo-teen-poetry. They’re a step-up from that, but let’s just say not a huge step. Still, for the most part, I enjoyed reading this. It wasn’t too taxing. I could see giving it to a tween/teenage girl, and said tween/teenage girl swooning at some of the lines (but you left giant / blackberry bruises / all over /
my soul.). As a non-teenager, I occasionally rolled my eyes at a few lines, but then there’d be a clever line or an interesting title (italicized at the end, so the opposite of title I guess, end-tle) and I’d be able to ignore the overwroughtness and keep on going.

I can hope for the growth of Lovelace’s talent. The seeds are there.

the princess saves herself in this one by Amanda Lovelace went on sale February 14, 2017.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

Comics and poetry are my mental palate-cleanser when I finish a book late at night and don’t want to start anything too taxing before sleep. So I finished The Gene last night at nine, and then turned to Manga Classics: Jane Eyre for my reading-time sorbet. I’ve read the real Jane Eyre, way way back in high school. At the time, I swooned. Now, maybe a bit more world-weary, I recognize that there’s a lot of worrisome bits in Jane Eyre: if a friend were to tell me that her new boyfriend was already married and kept his wife locked in the attic but really really loves her (the friend, not the wife), I would be like Uuuuhhhhh. Even ignoring the more prurient bits, let’s not forget Rochester’s behaviour, like pretending to be in love with someone else to make Jane jealous and fall in love with him, which is not really romantic as much as creepily manipulative. And what exactly is the allure of Rochester? He seems like a mercurial jerk, always bossing Jane about and alternating being friendly with being cold. That and having read Wide Sargasso Sea within the last year has erased any memories of earlier Jane Eyre swooning; likely if Geoff locked me in the attic and then went off to marry a governess, I’d try to burn his house down too. Through a post-modern, feminist lens, Jane Eyre, manga or not, has a lot of problematic bits.

But Manga Classics: Jane Eyre does have this: some of the panels are drawn chibi style and they are sooooooooooo cute. It seems all aspects of my feminist-self can be co-opted by chibi drawings. And then I start to swoon.

No, I tell myself. Don’t do it. Rochester is a dick. Manipulative, lying, and way too tall.

Chibis!

Chibis cannot make up for the warning signs of an abusive partner.

CHIBIS!

I am not going to throw away my principles because of awwww they are so cute so so so so so so cute.

Chibis?

Chibis.

Chibis.

Basically, this is Jane Eyre with a few panels drawn as chibis and my mind ceases to function because chibis and I fail at feminist literary criticism.

Manga Classics: Jane Eyre went on sale November 15, 2016.

I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

As per the author’s comment, I stand corrected re: the use of comic sans font. It is humour sans font. My bad.

Plus it’s been over a week and I still remember some of the physics so score! I is learning good 🙂