Book 20: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

I generally have a rule: I don’t see movies adapted from books until after I’ve read the book. I’ve stuck by this rule so seriously in the past that I even refused to see the Lord of the Rings films in theaters before I finished reading the books.

That was, in retrospect, really dumb, because I ended up not being able to see any of them in a theater until college, when the Del Mar in downtown Santa Cruz was doing a marathon of them. Movies like that are meant to be seen on a big screen, and now I regret not going when they first came out. But oh well, what did I know? I was thirteen.

The reason for this rule can be attributed to the Harry Potter films. As a kid, I was so disappointed by the movies. They’re basically incomprehensible without the background knowledge of the books. So I came to the conclusion that you need to read the book before seeing the movie, or you wouldn’t enjoy it. (And even then, you would probably be disappointed.)

This isn’t necessarily true, though. If something is adapted well, it can stand on its own. Fans of the book might be disappointed that some things were left out or altered, but it can still be its own version of the story.^[1] Movies and books are different mediums; adaptations necessarily have differences.

I didn’t know the 2018 movie Love, Simon was adapted from a book when I saw it in a theater. And it was such a well-made film… I didn’t really have to have read the book.

I’m glad I did though.

Book 19: Jem and the Holograms Vol. 1: Showtime by Kelly Thompson and Sophie Campbell

By any measure, I probably should have loved Jem and the Holograms when I was a kid. I loved the Spice Girls, I read the Josie and the Pussycats comics from the grocery store, and my sister and I used our Beanie Babies to act out Battle of the Bands-type stories. I loved Sailor Moon, so the Magical Girl element was there, too.

I missed the Jem window, though; the original cartoon ran from 1985 to 1988, and I was born in 1990. Even if it was syndicated later in the ‘90s, my family never had cable. The only reason I ever saw Sailor Moon was because of Blockbuster Video, and I guess they didn’t have any Jem videotapes.

That said, I definitely have never really liked pink, and the whole Jem aesthetic is not my thing. One might attribute that to the influence of ’90s grunge culture. Glam was over when I was growing up; it was all about ripped jeans.

And now that the nostalgia talk is over, let’s talk about Jem and the Holograms.

Book 18: Monstress Vol. 1: Awakening by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

Looking back at my reading history, it’s clear that I’ve always been partial to horror and epic fantasy. In elementary school, I devoured Goosebumps books, until I discovered Harry Potter. In middle school, I fell in love with Tamora Pierce’s Song of the Lioness series and Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. I’ve read quite a bit of Stephen King’s work, and if you haven’t read The Dark Tower, drop everything you’re doing right now and go pick up The Gunslinger at the library.

For years, I was obsessed with The Lord of the Rings. The books and the movies—though I read the books before I ever saw the movies. Other than Legolas (because archers), Eowyn was my favorite character. It mostly had to do with the fact that she was one of the few female characters who had a major role in the narrative and she was a warrior and she fucking killed the Witch-king of Angmar.

Yeah. Eowyn and Alanna were personal heroes of mine.

Epic fantasy doesn’t always include female protagonists, but when it does, I am there for it.

So it’s no wonder I love Monstress.

Book 17: Hawkeye: Kate Bishop Vol. 1: Anchor Points by Kelly Thompson

Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie’s Young Avengers series was my first foray into Marvel comics. It hooked me onto the characters. From there I immediately devoured everything the Young Avengers had ever been in, which introduced me to a few other characters and series. And now basically my whole life can be blamed on Gillen and McKelvie, so thanks, guys.

Something else my life can be blamed on is archery.^[1] I’ve been interested in archery for a long time—probably since Girl Scout camp, even though it wasn’t made very accessible there, but definitely since the Lord of the Rings films came out and Legolas was the best. The bow was my favorite long-distance weapon in the Legend of Zelda games. My first Dungeons and Dragons character was a ranger that focused on archery. Before I could get into practicing archery, I moved to Japan—where I then sought out an opportunity to try kyudo.

It me.

So it’s kind of no wonder that Kate Bishop, a.k.a. Hawkeye, is one of my favorite superheroes.

Book 16: Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone by James Baldwin

There is a CollegeHumor sketch that poses the United States as an abusive boyfriend. The video was made in 2014—before He Who Must Not Be Named began to gaslight the entire nation through Twitter from the White House.^[1] We’ve always whitewashed our history, made it more palatable to convince everyone our country is close to flawless.

So we can safely say that the United States of America has always been an abusive boyfriend, even if recent articles try to pin the gaslighting solely on the current president.

Intense emotional abuse makes you doubt yourself and your own strength and autonomy. It makes it difficult to trust. Abuse leaves lasting scars that color future interactions.

There is a reason that a black woman is the one pointing out all of America’s abusive behavior in CollegeHumor’s video. As many people pointed out in the wake of the 2016 election, black women have been warning us about all of this shit for… ever.^[2] That point came up again in the 2017 Alabama election, in which black women overwhelmingly “saved us” from Roy Moore. Black women rightfully criticized this framing of the election. They aren’t here to save “us.” They’re trying to save themselves. They’re trying to live their goddamn lives.

Because black people have always, always been abused by the United States of America, and they are keenly aware of it.

Book 15: Snotgirl Vol. 1: Green Hair Don’t Care by Bryan Lee O’Malley and Leslie Hung

Probably everyone has an internet persona, to a certain extent. Because of online disinhibition, we feel free to construct ourselves differently than we would offline—for better or worse. We construct our “self” in real life, too, but it seems more intentional online. You can formulate a persona and delete or add things to change your image. You can create a new account and distance yourself from the old one and rebrand entirely, the way corporations do. It may be a bit harder now, since the internet is a lot less anonymous than it used to be and people bring receipts, but it’s still possible.

There’s still a lot of research to be done on how the internet affects our psychology. A lot of articles say the internet—or more specifically, the social internet—is making us more anxious, though that could be a chicken-and-egg situation.^[1]

One would think that being able to be whoever we want, to construct a perfect version of ourselves that we can be proud of, on the internet would make us feel good.

The jury’s out on that.

Book 14: Dune by Frank Herbert

Some things don’t hold up well. We all learn and grow, and things that seemed good in the past… actually kind of weren’t. In a century, the things we believe now will probably be seen as terribly ignorant.

In his 2017 documentary The Problem with Apu, Hari Kondabolu pointed out that The Simpsons character Apu is a stereotype of an Indian man that has caused harm to South Asian American communities. Matt Groening’s response and the episode of The Simpsons that appears to address the controversy are disappointing. As many people have pointed out, the Looney Tunes^[1] did it better:

Pointing these things out about old beloved media always causes some sort of backlash. Most of the articles that popped up when I Googled “Hari Kondabolu and the Simpsons” were dismissive of his criticism. After writing an essay about the problematic aspects of The Office in retrospect, Jaya Saxena received threats on Twitter.^[2]

I’m of the opinion that it’s okay to have problematic faves. After all, history has shown us that everything will eventually be recognized as problematic in some way. The important thing is to recognize how we can do better.

For example, I love Brooklyn 99, but there is some valid criticism that it is fatphobic. And I also love Firefly, but it appropriates Chinese culture and the language without any Chinese characters. I’m going to a The Lord of the Rings movie marathon tomorrow, but the books and the movies feature good fair-skinned elves and corrupted, evil dark-skinned orcs.^[3] They could have done better. We should hold them accountable for that.

Some things hold up, some things don’t. And we can still enjoy them while being critical. Let’s take Space Jam, for example. Does that stand the test of time? Does it hold up?

OF COURSE. SPACE JAM IS PERFECT.^[4]

COME ON AND SLAM AND WELCOME TO THE JAM

Ahem.

So let’s talk about Dune.

Book 13: Batgirl: Stephanie Brown Vol. 2 by Bryan Q. Miller

The great thing about Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the way the Monster of the Week works as a metaphor for teenage (and later young adult) struggles. Some of the metaphors are… less subtle than others (Beer Bad, anyone?), but BtVS is so tightly knit that almost every episode ties into the larger thematic arc of the season it’s in—and in turn the entire series, which is a coming-of-age story. As Ian Martin says in the introduction to his BtVS reviews on Youtube, the monsters are “metaphors for her personal demons that could prevent her from growing up.”

Using a MOTW as a metaphor for characters’ personal struggles isn’t always successful. Supernatural tried it often in its first few seasons, and I never felt it was entirely successful. Sometimes it seemed like too much of a reach, and the writers had to clumsily reveal the metaphor at the end of the episode with the inevitable BM^[1] scene in the Impala. This made it feel tacked on instead of organic like it did in BtVS. Like they were saying, “By the way, this is what we were trying to say with this episode! And we’re going to the use the last five minutes of this horror show to explain it! And it might be problematic, so watch out!”

…I have a love/hate relationship with Supernatural.

Book 12: Motor Crush Vol. 1 by Brenden Fletcher, Cameron Stewart, and Babs Tarr

Marvel’s Agent Carter (2015–2016) gave me feels. It was short-lived and flawed, but the first season felt like everything I ever wanted. Agent Peggy Carter, a character from Captain America, is badass. She has weapons in her makeup kit. She beats a guy’s ass while a radio program plays with a woman saying, “Captain America, what would I ever do without you?” The show is full of lampshading^[1] and little inside jokes for women, much the way Ghostbusters (2016) and Wonder Woman (2017) are. These movies feel like they are about real women, and they show that women can be action stars without being sex objects.

Of course, women can do anything. But there’s a special kind of feeling you get seeing yourself in an action star, or a NASA mathematician, or a lawyer, or a Jedi, or a Ghostbuster, or a world leader, or a tech genius.

Diverse representation, in media and in positions of power, isn’t the end of the fight for equality, but it matters. There are numerous studies about how whether we see ourselves represented in media (and how we are represented) affects our self-esteem. It can change how we see ourselves and our possibilities. It can change our unconscious biases. This is why We Need Diverse Books exists. This is why it’s so important that so many women of color and LGBTQIA+ people (and hella intersections of those identities) are running for office this year.^[2]

Representation matters. It matters to all those kids in Black Panther cosplay. It matters to the women who came out of Wonder Woman screenings feeling like they could take on the world. It matters to the people who saw Hidden Figures and Black Panther and who are now being encouraged to pursue careers in STEM fields.

And it matters to readers of Motor Crush.

Book 11: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

When we read dystopian stories or post-apocalyptic stories, we often ask ourselves and others, “What would you do?” What would you do if you were Katniss? What would you do if you were Winston? What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

What would you have done if you were alive in Nazi-occupied Germany?^[1]

After the 2016 election, a lot of Tweets and Facebook posts circulated with a similar message: If you ever wondered what you would do, it is what you are doing right now.

Last summer, Nazis marched in the streets in the U.S. ICE raids are currently tearing families apart. This month, there are white supremacist nationalist ads in public transportation stations across the country, telling tech workers to confront their employers about hiring immigrants over U.S. workers—you know, kind of like how the Nazis forced Jewish German citizens out of their jobs because they weren’t “real Germans.” Our president recently praised a dictator for stealing another election and praised another president for abolishing presidential term limits before musing that maybe the U.S. should try that “president for life” thing.

So what would you have done?

What are you doing right now?

What are you going to do?