phoenixfalls

Frederik Sonck (illus. Jenny Lucander, trans. B.J. Woodstein), Freya and the Snake (2023 / 2025)

Finnish children's book about the snake that lives in the rockpile, a father's earnest but unsuccessful attempt to avert a fatal conflict between the snake and his children, and his children turning on him after he finally resorts to killing the snake.

"Snake murderer," they say. They will not eat ice cream with a snake murderer. Also, murderers do not get to attend the funeral.

I loved this book. I loved how judgemental the kids are, how exasperated and slitherer-outer the mother is, and how harried the father is. I of course would have preferred textual confirmation that the snake was venomous, but it's reasonably clear there was no great solution here -- just as it's clear that level of nuance is not gonna fly with these kids.


Dee Snyder (illus. Margaret McCartney), We're Not Gonna Take It (1984 / 2020)

Illustrated version of the famous Twisted Sister song, in which the rebellious anti-authoritarian teenagers of the music video have grown up to become authoritarian parents of toddlers -- toddlers who do not consent to such brutalities as baths and bedtimes.

I'm not quite sure how I feel about this one. I associate the original version with freedom of gender expression and rebellion against abusive parents, and there's still a thing going on here about the tyranny of parents, but now that's a joke. The parents know what's best and eventually the babies go to sleep and dream happily, and... hrm. The whole thing is very defanged and cute and I'm not sure I'm quite on board for it.


Octavia E. Butler (illus. Manzel Bowman), A Few Rules for Predicting the Future (2000 / 2024)

Illustrated edition of Butler's 2000 Essence essay on the art of science fiction predicting the future, originally written in the context of the then-recently published Parable of the Talents, the sequel to Parable of the Sower, both of which forecast a United States that never addressed the developing problems of fascism and climate change. This volume was published in 2024, the once-future year that Sower is set. While Butler's vision for 2024 doesn't match what I see out my window, we are very much reaping the harvest of our runaway fascism problem. (If you can use "reaping the harvest" for an ongoing and advancing situation.)

Which is to say. This essay has aged very well. I'm pleased to have the opportunity to give it another think, and in fact I have re-read it twice since checking out this volume. I like her stress on there being no silver bullet but a multiplicity of checkerboarded solutions -- one for each of us who chooses to apply ourselves to it! -- and likewise her observations on the generational effect of what looks reasonable and preposterous, both looking ahead and in hindsight.

I'm a little mixed-feelings about the volume itself. It's very pretty and the paintings are gorgeous, but there's only four of them, so as a stand-alone edition it feels a bit... thin. Then again, it got me to read her essay again, so in that sense, it's a success.

An anon on tumblr asked me about my writing habits, and since half of my writing community is over here, I thought I'd cross-post the question and answer, in case it's interesting to anyone else.

would you be willing to elaborate on your writing routine? you seem like a very consistent writer, and as someone who's not, i'm always curious how people approach their writing. do you set aside a particular amount of time/word goal/just go with the flow? do you have a single piece that you'll work on or does it jump around? do you have a way to push through writer's block or do you take a break? feel free to say as much or as little as you want ofc, but i've just been curious after seeing the few things you've said on here about it, and i'm trying to get better about my own writing routine 😅

( General process )

( Specific questions )


(Side note: does anyone know if DW has markdown code for adding a cut? Copying from tumblr to DW would have been a lot easier with it...)