New Site - specual.me

Henceforth I'll be moving to my new site. I'll be bringing similar content, but wanted a fresh start. This blog will stay up since I've got old ARC reviews up on here, but other than that things will be migrating to my new site, and all future reviews will be published there. Adios! It's been a good (close to) decade!

What happens when you stop loving YA?

For many of us who have grown up to be voracious readers, the Young Adult literary space is a reliable and familiar home. On choosing a YA book, you are somewhat guaranteed to encounter simple prose and young, often female main characters in ‘coming-of-age’ stories. Young Adult is not restricted by genres like science fiction or romance, and it is a perfectly valid place to stay if you’re happy there. But what do you do, if like me, young adult starts to wear thin. How do you reach out to adult literature?

For me, my love of young adult started to wane when I was around 16. The tropes weren’t doing it for me any more, the ever-present love triangle was more grating than it was interesting. I couldn’t help but want more from whatever I read. It was time for me to branch out. This was a little bit scary and definitely sad. I’d loved YA for a long time, and it was where I felt comfortable. There was a time when (admittedly at 13/14), I thought that I would never want to reach out beyond YA. However, for the last 3-4 years I’ve mostly not read YA and am extremely happy that I accepted my fate and branched out. I have discovered so much about my preferences as a reader, about new genres, and new authors that I will continue to explore.

Without further ado, here are some tips to make this transition a little bit easier:

1) Identify what adult genres correspond to your YA preferences.

For me, this was science fiction and fantasy – or speculative fiction in general. I had always loved a good dystopian and this didn’t change when I moved toward exploring adult literature. If for you, that great love is romance, then it could be time to explore some adult romance novels.

2) The world of Adult books is much larger than that of YA.

I’ll be working from my own preferences here, but in science fiction, for example, the young adult space is dominated by dystopias that broadly lack the depth of adult dystopia. All the more, ‘adult’ speculative fiction has hundreds of subgenres, many of which are either absent from the YA space, or have features that are applied as speculative tropes in what is otherwise a romance book. While the sheer greater volume of books you’re now aware of can be daunting, it can also be really exciting when you discover a niche that you simply did not have access to in YA.

3) Discover the classics.

This can be the classics of your favourite genres, identified by the endless listicles and amazing book reviewers you can find online. Or, this can include the classics of various literary canons. In general, I have found that these books are considered classics for a reason, and I am yet to read a book considered a ‘classic’ without being able to understand why it retains significance and popularity. However, while classics have ended up doing it for me, they may not be for you! It is absolutely okay to decide that you want to stick on the emerging end of things, but don’t be afraid to give classics a shot.

4) You don’t have to stop loving your old favourites. But you may not want to reread them.

There are many books that I have deeply fond memories of, that I am fairly certain I would not like on reread now that I’m a bit older. That doesn’t mean these books are bad, but that I am no longer the intended reader. For this reason, there are some books that I will simply never reread, but there are others that I continue to stand by and truly enjoy. You may find over time that your old favourites have moved aside in your heart a little bit, and that’s ok. You can and will find new treasures for the next season of your life. 

 For me, the transition away from YA has been both daunting and extremely rewarding. Hopefully the tips given here have been helpful for anyone embarking on this journey, or at least that my positivity has been reassuring. Comment below if you have anything to say about your own experiences falling out of love with a particular genre or age-category like Young Adult! 

Poor reasoning and intellectual dishonesty - Fake Invisible Catastrophes and Threats of Doom by Patrick Moore

In 'Fake Invisible Catastrophes and Threats of Doom', we are introduced to ten instances of 'climate panic' which Patrick Moore, former founder of Greenpeace, attempts to refute. These examples range from the bleaching of coral reefs in Australia to claims of climate-led polar bear extinction. Inevitably, the contents of this book were controversial, and it is not too surprising that the description of this book is no longer even shown on Goodreads. However, in the spirit of diversifying the perspectives I encounter on climate change, and because my interest was sparked by his Triggernometry interview, I decided to pick it up. What if we really are all overreacting?

Unfortunately, there seems to be some misleading sleight of hand occurring throughout the text in which, in refuting a particular aspect of a claim, he refutes the whole thing altogether. Frequently, Moore cites the conditions of the Earth over the past several billion years as evidence that the predictions or observations of scientists today in response to climate change are overblown. While it may be true, based on his claims, that global warming is no threat to life in general, his claims do not refute the claim that global warming is a threat to life as we know it. For example, in discussing Polar bears he asserts that Polar bears only exist because of climate change; that is, because we are currently in an Ice Age. This has nothing to do with concerns about loss of habitat for Polar bears today - just because they haven’t always existed and had a habitat does not mean the premature loss of their (sub?)species is any less of a concern. He goes on to note that polar bear populations have risen, claiming that this “may be due to reduction in summer sea ice, not because of it” despite also noting widespread ban or restriction of hunting the bears which preceded their rise in population. 

Similar claims are made in regards to corals and coral bleaching due to ocean acidification and temperature rises, as Moore points to the great biodiversity of coral reefs existing mostly in the warmest parts of the oceans. This assertion does not refute the claim that warming of the seas will negatively affect corals. An important thing to understand is that all living things have a set of conditions within which they can survive (a niche). A rise in global sea temperatures, perhaps, will not drive coral reefs extinct, but could dramatically change the distribution of these corals. In already warm areas, a sustained increase above the range of habitability of these plants still results in loss of coral reefs and biodiversity unless there is some effective way to transplant these species into now ideally warmer waters in other parts of the world. Further, the short term recovery of the Great Barrier Reef after mass bleaching in 2016 is consistent with other bleaching events internationally which have resulted from temporary increases in ocean temperatures (Baker, Glynn, & Riegl 2008), and so does not refute concerns about long-term temperature changes. Perhaps his conclusion to this would simply be that it doesn’t matter, that every species has an endpoint, but that is not the point he makes in his book. Similar issues of reason are found throughout the book as Moore falsely believes one claim to negate the other when the two are, in fact, independent.

This issue of false equivalence is often based on or bolstered by a further issue - that the sources referenced do not always support the claim which the author attributes to them. This is outlined clearly by Holman (2021), who upon contacting both Moore and some of the researches referenced found that he had misrepresented the conclusions of their findings in order to support or discount claims on which they did not report. Further, some of Moore’s claims about references are false, as a large part of his argument in Chapter 2 about bleaching in the Great Barrier Reef hinges on the allegation that articles citing a 93% of corals affected by bleaching have no factual basis upon which to make this claim. This is false, as [this] ARC Centre for Excellence of Coral Reef Studies press release from 2016 demonstrates a clear, and not particularly hard to find origin for the 93% statistic. This could, certainly, be a simple mistake. It is, however, a misleading one for readers of the book that do not desire or have the time to fact check some of his claims.

Moore also continually downplays the significance of the social impacts of environmental changes. Sea levels rising? Just move inland. Got money? Build some dykes. Nevermind that ‘just move inland’ is a much taller order on the scale of a nation like Bangladesh than for the average fishing village in Roman Britain. Inevitably, he will dismiss concerns about such events as climate refugee crises as the result of alarmism or false computer modelling. Though once again, dismissing the significance of social concerns presents a misleading sense of environmentalist arguments. For instance, Moore discusses the benefits of waste combustion as an effective way to deal with non-recyclable materials and reduce landfill. Certainly, this is an option to consider, but he misrepresents arguments against such plants as the result of some sort of fear of combustion in general or mild concerns about combustion of recyclable materials. In doing so, he neglects public concerns about the safety of combustion of non-organic materials which often characterise opposition to waste-to-energy power plants (Sun, Ouyang & Meng 2019, pp. 2473-2474).

Despite his clear contrarian nature, Moore bizarrely does not take umbrage with GMOs, instead standing with the scientific community he has criticised throughout the book to illustrate the safety and potential benefits of utilising genetically modified crops. In general, Moore is introducing arguments that I have never heard before, which I appreciate (poor skepticism is better than no skepticism.) As far as I can tell, some of his broader points are worth consideration and further research (both at the level of the personal and the academic), and I genuinely would like to learn more about his theory that increased atmospheric CO2 does not lead to increased temperatures, and could be beneficial to biomass. As such, I do think this book could be worth a read if you approach it, as with anything, a critical eye. Sir David Attenborough is not right about everything, but neither is Patrick Moore, and so it is disheartening to see so many people clearly interested in environmental science take his word for gospel without interrogating either his arguments or attempting to truly understand those of his opposition.

References:
ARC Centre for Excellence of Coral Reef Studies 2016, 'Only 7% of the Great Barrier Reef has avoided coral bleaching', Coralcoe.org.au, viewed 15 July 2021, https://www.coralcoe.org.au/media-rel....

Baker, AC, Glynn, PW, & Riegl, B 2008, 'Climate change and coral reef bleaching: An ecological assessment of long-term impacts, recovery trends and future outlook' Estuarine, Coastal and Shelf Science, vol. 80, no. 4, pp. 435–471, doi: 10.1016/j.ecss.2008.09.003.

Holman, S 2021, 'Fact Checking Patrick Moore, Climate Skeptic', The Tyee, viewed 15 July 2021, https://thetyee.ca/Analysis/2021/06/0....

Sun, C, Ouyang, X, & Meng, X 2019, 'Public acceptance towards waste-to-energy power plants: a new quantified assessment based on “willingness to pay”' Journal of Environmental Planning and Management, vol. 62, no. 14, pp. 2459–2477, doi: 10.1080/09640568.2018.1560930. 

Sand Talk - Can Indigenous Thinking Really Save the World?

In 'Sand Talk: How Indigenous Thinking Can Save the World', Tyson Yunkaporta attempts a sprawling exploration of indigenous thought patterns across the world as centred by his own experiences as an Aboriginal Australian. Each chapter explores a single theme through the development of a symbol and works to introduce a particular thought pattern or practice in a way that is broadly accessible and thought-provoking. 

Integral to this text is the discussion of the production of knowledge, as he explores different 'ways of knowing' and the 'indigenous knowledge systems' used in indigenous knowledge production. Though I have studied epistemology (theory of knowledge) to some degree before, I think that Yunkaporta’s explanations of these key concepts were both effective and accessible.These indigenous processes are frequently contrasted with what he perceives to be the Western standard of knowledge production on a given point. In this juxtaposition, however, Yunkaporta repeatedly makes claims both about the nature of Western culture and history that just don’t add up while frequently overgeneralising the nature of Western knowledge production. He readily admits he’s no expert in either Indigenous cultures or the Western cultures he often critiques, so approach any broad claims about either with some respect and skepticism. Though I do question why he bothered to make sweeping generalisations knowing that this was the case. Perhaps, this was just to provide a clear contrast to what he perceives his own culture does instead, but I felt it discredited his through-line argument against simplistic thinking in the face of complex challenges. 

Further, certain key issues as far as indigenous cultures were glossed over or dismissed without adequate discussion despite being at times relevant to the discussion. On the case of domestic abuse and paedophilia in Australian indigenous communities, Yunkaporta fails to truly address the issues of today (see Indigenous Child Safety) and instead focuses on potential bad reporting of observers during first contact. He further goes on to claim that paedophilia isn’t an issue because traditionally adolescence was not as extended as it now is and that it wasn’t just old men preying on young girls, it was old women praying on young boys too (see the chapter 'Duck Hunting is Everybody's Business'):

Selective recording of observations by anthropologists and early settlers popularised the    idea that old men used their power and influence to marry underage girls and monopolise the young women of the group. This ignored the fact that old women did the same with young men - a mechanism that makes sense in terms of maintaining stable populations with low birth rates. It also served to curtail the excesses of youth and to mentor young people in how to navigate the complexity of sexual relationships. You may think of this as paedophilia, but bear in mind that this was an era when adolescence lasted months rather than years - all over the world, children became young adults and married sooner in those days. 

Some further examples of bizarre claims made throughout include the assertion that vitamin D deficiency due to anti-skin cancer campaigns has killed more people than the cancer would have, another being that neural changes caused by literacy are abhorrent. Unsurprisingly then, this book is largely devoid of references to back up any such claims, but maybe I’m just missing the point.

As others have stated, this book has little to do with indigenous thinking changing the world. Sure, there are moments in which an approach or idea could be useful when applied at scale, but the title overpromises on what are effectively broad ways of understanding the world. Further, indigenous thinking and culture is by its nature relegated to only small groups of people, and so I see no real place for the non-indigenous majority to adopt any of what is described in the book - you can’t just become indigenous. This exclusivity of indigenous knowledge is hesitantly acknowledged by Yunkaporta, as he notes the secrecy of Aboriginal Australian cultures. I doubt that this overpromising title is the fault of Yunkaporta, however, and was likely some sort of marketing push to sell more copies of an otherwise challenging and pertinent collection of essays.

This book will likely challenge things you take advantage of in your worldview, things you didn’t even consider to be part of any worldview at all. Yunkaporta does this in a way that is fascinating and accessible through a melding of art, memoir and analysis (as he calls it: “yarning”.) For this reason alone, this book is a worthy read for anyone vaguely interested in philosophy or world history. Take it slowly, and you’ll get far more out of mulling these ideas over than trying to ram them into your likely very differently wired skull. 

References:

Australian Institute of Health and Welfare 2014, Indigenous child safety, AIHW, Canberra.

Yunkaporta, T. (2020). Sand Talk : How Indigenous Thinking Can Save the World. Harpercollins Publishers.

Who Owns England? by Guy Shrubsole

 

Who Owns England? Is a fascinating exploration of land ownership in England, and occasionally Wales. You’d think the question of who owns what wouldn’t be all that difficult to answer, but no, England’s history of land ownership and land reform is likely one of the most convoluted in the world. Land ownership continues to be shrouded in secrecy, and despite its formation in 1861, HM’s Land Registry remains incomplete. This book recounts Shrubsole’s attempts to map the landowners of England as well as the history of land itself in England, which remains tied to the aristocracy and archaic traditions. 

Throughout his investigation, Shrubsole emphasises environmental protection, housing affordability and tax evasion as issues of key importance, and unsurprisingly is no fan of Margaret Thatcher. Each chapter explores a different type of land ownership such that Crown Land, farming, corporate ownership and the average homeowner are given consideration. While I had no real ideas of land reform before going in, I came out convinced that changes can and need to be made. The best part of this book is that provides viable solutions and policy changes, and it’s made me finally register for postal vote to do what I can from Australia.

Bottom line: this is a passionate and informative look into land ownership in England, and you’ll come out realising there’s far more that should and can be done for housing affordability and the environment. I gave this 5/5 stars.

I would like to thank Guy Shrubsole and NetGalley for giving me the opportunity to review this book. You can find out more from Shrubsole's website and buy the book on Amazon, Waterstones, Kobo, Bookdepository and hopefully your local bookshop!

The Constant Rabbit by Jasper Fforde

The quasi-biblical mess that is 2020 has been a year of literary discovery for me. Just as you can find pretty much anything on Reddit, I’ve also realised you can find pretty much anything in books. ‘The Constant Rabbit’ by Jasper Fforde is just one of several forays into anthropomorphic fiction, a subgenre I first learned to love through Jamie Brindle’s ‘Chaos Drive’.  While The Constant Rabbit does not feature the anthropomorphised frogs of Brindle’s creation, it does feature rabbits (and foxes and weasels too.) 

The Constant Rabbit follows Peter Knox, a mildly boring middle-aged man working for a notoriously anti-Rabbit agency in an England with over 1 million human-like rabbits. Following an ‘Event’ 55 years prior these rabbits had started to walk, talk and function in society to much leporiphobic (rabbit-phobic) opposition. Fforde’s exploration of the political implications of this absurdist entry into British society provided grounds for a scathing satire of anti-immigrant and pro-Brexit rhetoric - and human nature in general. 

Fforde’s absolute success throughout this novel was in making the idea of humanised rabbits seemingly probable. Not only did he think through the impact this would have on human culture but also developed a clear sense of rabbit culture and the ways in which the two would interact. His success in establishing the absurdist world of our protagonist made for both a humorous and thought-provoking read. 

Doing what weird fiction does best, Fforde’s political commentary is able to make use of this absurdism by applying comedy and approachability to social critique. Similarly to the use of animals in Art Spiegelman’s Maus, different animals are used to represent different groups of people. A feature of anthropomorphic fiction in general, this allows the reader to separate from their own context whilst simultaneously comparing it to that of the book. 

However, while I thoroughly enjoyed the world-building and character-arcs, The Constant Rabbit is fairly light on plot. Though I enjoyed Peter’s often clueless perspective, the fact he didn’t know what was happening most of the time meant that there was also not a lot beyond his monotonous life to drive the book forward. His discovery of rabbit-culture and examination of his own role in their plight was interesting, but I also felt like nothing actually happened for the first 250 pages. 

The use of inter-species romance was also interesting, but also kind of weird. The implications of what is effectively consensual beastiality were concluded to be ‘love is love’. However, the end of the book called this into question for me as the species barrier is still very much a thing. I also found Peter to be bizarrely apathetic about certain events which I would have expected a far greater reaction to. 

I decided to give this a 3 star rating all up, but would definitely recommend it to those looking for something a little weird and serious. I’ve also heard Fforde’s other work is similarly whimsical and look forward to checking it out.

I would like to thank NetGalley, Hodder and Staughton and Jasper Fforde for giving me an opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review. You can get a copy of The Constant Rabbit from Kobo, Bookdepository, Amazon and most other major booksellers. 

Ivy Feckett is Looking for Love: A Birmingham Romance Review

‘Ivy Feckett is Looking for Love’ is Jay Spencer Green’s second novel, and the second that I’ve read. His first novel, ‘Breakfast at Cannibal Joe’s’, is a dystopian comedy equally entertaining and thought-provoking.  Consequently, I went into this expecting to simultaneously laugh and frown. I wasn’t disappointed. Certainly a tonal shift from Breakfast at Cannibal Joe’s, Ivy Feckett swaps dystopian for romance as we see Ivy navigate the bizarre world of academic research and Birmingham-borne cults. She also starts to fall for her boss, Ned Hartfield. 

In what I’ve discovered to be Green’s signature style, this Birmingham romance is guaranteed to elicit laughs and smiles abound. One of my favourite aspects was the quasi-biblical quotes which begin each chapter, especially once their relevance became apparent. I am highly tempted to try and harass Green into writing a full version of this bible, but that would probably be rude. 

The setting of Birmingham is clearly one which Green is highly familiar with, as we’re taken on both a tour of its geographic class divides and the bustling CBD. If the borders ever open back up I’d love to spend a day in Birmingham retracing Ivy and Sam’s steps; maybe even give geocaching a shot. Alas, Ivy Feckett will have to suffice for now. 

Ivy as a character perfectly encapsulates the female introvert. She’s smart; she knows (or thinks she knows) when she’s wanted. I felt personally attacked by some of the lines in this book, especially as she describes her reasoning for not going out or generally doing anything outside her routine. The arrival of Ned sees a change in Ivy. She starts to tackle a subject she’s long relegated to her own imagination - sex. I found her obsession with him fairly stupid but entirely realistic. And then there’s her best friend Sam. 

Sam, like Ivy, is a nerd. He loves geocaching and boardgames. Winning either in Ivy’d presence is his way of showcasing masculinity. It’s adorable. Sam accompanies Ivy throughout the book, as her colleague and bestie, he’s also witness to her burgeoning romance with Ned. Ned is manipulative and repulsive, and is part of a much larger plot Ivy doesn’t realise she’s involved in too. Don’t go into this expecting a plain old romance, the surprising mystery of this plot really shows up around half-way through. I won’t say any more on this because I think it’s more fun to discover, but I will say that it’s both an entertaining and philosophical inclusion. 

‘Ivy Feckett is Looking for Love’ is hilarious and heartwarming, and I’d highly recommend picking it up. I saw another reviewer saying it’s a romance for people who don’t like reading romances, which I’d say is pretty accurate because of how much relatability, humour and depth it brings to the table. Jay Spencer Green has fast become one of my favourite discoveries of the year and I’ll soon be looking to his third novel, Fowl Play. I gave this a deserving 5/5 stars. 

                                                        

You can purchase this book at Amazon, Kobo, and BookDepository.

Note: I would like to thank Jay Spencer Green for reaching out to me and giving me a copy of this book to review - it means the world as a reviewer.