readingthroughtheapocalypse

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 18/10/23 - 21/10/23.

4 stars. ‘Survivor Injustice’ by Kylie Cheung is an eye-opening exploration of the deep-rooted connections between domestic abuse/violence and state violence. Cheung’s abolitionist perspective effectively dismantles the harmful notion that abuse is a private matter, exposing how it’s intertwined w racism, misogyny, queerphobia, and the carceral system. The book is impressively well-researched and eloquently written, offering crucial insights into the systematic denial of justice to survivors of sexual and domestic violence. Even fr readers outside of the US, it provides valuable food fr thought, and the abundance of real-life examples make it accessible, even fr those new to the topic. In light of those real-life examples, I should note that the book delves into p heavy subject matters, so approach w caution if yr not in the right headspace to confront issues related to sexual violence, assault, and rape.

One thing I appreciated though was the structure of the book, in that it seamlessly weaved every topic together, showing their interconnectedness and highlighting the fact that none of the issues covered in this book are happening in a vacuum or independently frm one another. However, I will say the book did also have moments of repetition, especially concerning issues around voting and domestic abuse and state violence towards the start of the book, but regardless it didn’t significantly diminish the overall value of this work. Likewise, I also found admirable Cheung’s use of language surrounding pregnancy and birth, using terms like “pregnant people” and “pregnant-capable people” instead of solely relying on “pregnant women,” etc, and associating the having of a womb, pregnancy, and childbirth w (cis) women and womanhood, demonstrating Cheung’s commendable dedication to inclusivity. This approach not only acknowledges the diverse experiences of people who may become pregnant but also contributes to making the book more accessible and relevant to a broader audience. Overall, it’s a refreshing and important change of pace that aligns w the evolving understanding of gender and reproductive health and rights.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Started reading 16/10/23.

It’s so gloomy and rainy out today, so I cancelled all my plans and decided instead to lay on the couch curled under a blanket and read all day.

I’m currently reading Rory Carroll’s book, ‘Killing Thatcher’, which provides a gripping and insightful account of a pivotal moment in British and Irish history, of the IRA assassination attempt on PM Margaret Thatcher in 1984 that not only came astonishingly close to taking her life but also nearly wiped out the British Cabinet, linked to the Troubles in Northern Ireland. Carroll’s thriller-like narrative retraces the steps leading up to the infamous bombing, starting w the IRA’s claim of responsibility fr the execution of Lord Mountbatten in 1979. The book also delves into the rise of Margaret Thatcher, her approach to the Troubles, and the chain of events culminating in the hunger strikes of 1981, which resulted in the deaths of ten republican prisoners, including Bobby Sands. It was frm this point that Thatcher became a sworn enemy of the IRA, and they intended to take their revenge.

The book’s fast-paced narrative extends to both the intrigue before and after the assassination attempt, spanning three continents and encompassing a wide array of characters, frm elite IRA operatives to intelligence officers, police detectives, informers, and bomb disposal officers. ‘Killing Thatcher’ artfully blends true crime w political history, making it a pretty significant piece of work that sheds light on a pivotal moment in modern history. While I don’t necessarily agree w the way Carroll steadfastly avoids emotional biases and tries to provide a balanced account of the motivations, the attack, the investigation, and the aftermath (this is as I’m firmly on the side that believes Thatcher and her government were pure evil), the book stills offers valuable insights into the mindsets of those involved on both sides of this historical event. Overall, it’s a compelling read that provides a deeper understanding of the complex dynamics and consequences of political violence.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

“Books changed me and I think that they are, more than anything else, one of the best tools we can use to learn, reflect on, and truly understand the world we are living in. They are a bridge between languages, continents, and people. A book will accompany you and will stay with you, it will mark you like nothing else. You will go back to it, quote it, argue about it. You will borrow one and lend one. The written word, in my opinion, is therefore more effective and long lasting than the spoken one as a tool for change.”

- Frank Barat, in the Introduction to ‘On Palestine’ by Noam Chomsky and Ilan Pappé

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Started reading 15/10/23.

Currently reading Noam Chomsky and Ilan Pappé’s ‘On Palestine’. It’s a reflection on the enduring Palestinian struggle and the role of the international community in addressing human rights abuses by the white supremacist state of Israel, and in light of the recent world events, the need to stand in solidarity w Palestinians has never been more critical.

Chomsky, alongside Ilan Pappé, discusses the road ahead fr Palestinians, shedding light on the historical context of their plight. They emphasise the importance of international pressure on Israel to end its human rights abuses. Overall, this dialogue resonates w the broader global conversation on justice and human rights, especially in the context of Indigenous struggles here in so-called Australia.

The parallels drawn between the Indigenous struggle in Australia and the Palestinian struggle highlight the common threads of settler colonialism, genocide, and the supremacy of certain cultures. Both Australia and Israel have complex histories rooted in colonisation, which has had profound consequences fr Indigenous populations. These logics have shaped the creation and maintenance of these nations and their treatment of Indigenous peoples.

Chomsky and Pappé’s work invites us to reflect on the shared experiences of Indigenous communities worldwide and underscores the importance of solidarity and international pressure in addressing these injustices. It also serves as a reminder that the struggles of Indigenous peoples transcend geographical boundaries, connecting those fighting fr their rights and dignity on different fronts.

I have a good feeling about this book. If you have any other recommendations of books on the Palestinian struggle, please send them my way!

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 08/10/23 - 15/10/23.

4 stars. Nick Cook’s ‘Fighting for Our Lives’ is a remarkable and incredibly thorough portrayal of the collective resilience and commitment displayed by communities directly affected by the AIDS crisis in Australia, starting in the 80s and moving through till the 2000s. The book delves into these most harrowing two decades, amidst the backdrop of illness, fear, discrimination and stigmatisation, and immense loss, and highlights the extraordinary actions taken by different communities in response.

While the book obviously predominantly focuses on gay men and gay organisations, I truly appreciated Cook’s exploration of sex workers and their community efforts, as they have historically been seen as scapegoats in the wake of health epidemics and considered vectors of disease. Cook explains that despite there never being a confirmed case of HIV transmission frm a female sex worker (amazing!), they were still, of course, unjustly vilified and stigmatised. The book sheds light on the crucial role played by organisations such as the APC (Australian Prostitutes Collective) and SWOP (Sex Worker Outreach Project) in helping sex workers confront the looming threat of HIV/AIDS and dismantling harmful stereotypes and championing safer sex practices.

In a similar vein, I also enjoyed Cook’s examination of the shifting perception of condoms in society, as prior to the AIDS crisis, condoms were primarily regarded as a contraceptive method fr cis women, but as the awareness of HIV/AIDS grew, they evolved through public awareness campaigns into an indispensable tool fr preventing the transmission of HIV and other STIs. This transformation not only underscored the public health significance of condoms but also played a pivotal role in destigmatising their use. Condoms began to be seen as a responsible choice fr people of all gender identities and sexual orientations, that are a critical step in protecting themselves and their partners frm potentially life-threatening infections.

I also enjoyed Cook’s focus on the complex reasons why many individuals kept their HIV status hidden, as during the 80s-90s, when the HIV/AIDS crisis was at its peak, the fear of disclosure was not just about personal discomfort, but was about very real, life-altering consequences. The instances of harassment at work, eviction frm one’s home, and discrimination and stigmatisation were pervasive, w heartbreaking stories of lives shattered by the disclosure of one’s status. Cook’s mention of the statistics and stories frm that time paint a grim picture of the social and legal environment. As well, the fear of being isolated, ostracised, and even the dystopian threat of government-sanctioned segregation created an atmosphere of uncertainty and dread fr the HIV-positive community, and in the face of these very tangible repercussions, it’s understandable why many chose to keep their status secret. In light of this, that’s why we must always champion ongoing awareness, education, and advocacy to ensure that such injustices are not repeated and that we continue to support and stand w those affected by HIV/AIDS.

The book also emphasises the broader impact of the AIDS crisis by highlighting the role of organisations like ACON. These orgs engaged in things such as comprehensive safe sex awareness campaigns and the widespread distribution of safe sex tools, educational initiatives, harm reduction fr drug users, mental health and wellbeing campaigns and support, palliative care, and counselling, among many other things. Their efforts reshaped the narrative around HIV/AIDS, saving countless lives in the process. Organisations like ACON are champions of health and wellbeing w/in the queer community, as the essential services they offer thoroughly address specific issues that affect the queer community. And by doing so, they have very effectively contributed to the overall wellbeing and longevity of queer individuals and the broader queer community.

I also feel pretty passionate about this book due to it being in part a history of ACON, as I volunteered at one point w ACON’s Community Visitors Scheme, where you visit w and provide companionship to socially and/or culturally isolated LGBTQ+ seniors. So I feel like it gives me a tiny tiny tiiiiny piece of personal connection to this narrative, or at the very least has strengthened my already high opinion of all that ACON has done and still is doing. Frm its rocky beginnings, ACON has been at the forefront of advocacy and awareness, and they’ve worked tirelessly to challenge discrimination and stigmatisation, fight fr equal rights, promoted societal acceptance, etc etc. ACON’s staunch advocacy efforts have not only immensely benefitted the queer community but also helped educate the broader public, ultimately fostering a more inclusive Australian society.

‘Fighting for Our Lives’ is a testament to the power of community action, mutual aid, advocacy, and resilience, across different marginalised communities, frm the obvious gay male community, on to sex workers and drug users. It captures the high-stakes, life-and-death chaos of an extraordinary two decades, making it an essential book to read fr anyone seeking to deepen their understanding of the profound impact the AIDS crisis had in Australia and of the collective efforts that sprung up in response. Highly recommend!

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

“You don’t have to look a certain way to be a tomboy. Don’t let anyone tell you that, ever, and please don’t find that here in my words. Tomboy thrums in your heart. It’s in your head. It’s what is holding your spine in place. It can’t be hidden by a haircut. It’s not about nail polish or not. It’s running right now in your veins. If it is in you, you already know. Tomboy blood is so much bigger than the outside of you.”

- Ivan E. Coyote, Tomboy Survival Guide

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Started reading 04/10/23.

Louise Erdrich’s ‘The Sentence’ is a delightful book that blends the ordinary w the extraordinary, exploring profound questions about life, death, and our connection to books. Set in a small independent Minneapolis bookstore (in fact, in a fictionalised version of the author’s bookstore Birchbark Books), this novel takes us on a ride through a year of mystery, grief, astonishment, and introspection.

The story centres around Ojibwe bookseller Tookie and her most vexing customer, Flora, who lingers long past her earthly existence, haunting both Tookie and Birchbark Books. Tookie had survived years of wrongful incarceration through her intense passion for books, and now finds herself at the heart of this enchanting mystery. Her quest to unravel the haunting while navigating the ups and downs of a year filled w emotional turmoil forms the crux of the narrative.

Erdrich’s storytelling is magical, infusing each page w warmth, humour, and a deep sense of wonder. Tookie’s humorous asides about the quirks of bookstore/bookseller life and her interactions w colleagues (Pen is my favorite) made me laugh and feel right at home in the cosy bookstore setting.

‘The Sentence’ also raises profound questions about our responsibilities to the living and the dead, and even our responsibilities to books themselves. These themes are artfully interwoven into a plot that kept me engaged and guessing throughout. While there were moments when the story’s pace felt a tad too leisurely, and the POV of other characters felt incessant and broke up the flow of the story, the emotional depth still more than compensated fr it.

One of the novel’s standout features though is its ability to capture the essence of a year filled w challenges and change, particularly all that the year 2020 brought (hullo covid). Erdrich masterfully portrays the emotions and experiences of her characters as they navigate a world in transformation.

Overall, Louise Erdrich’s novel is a touching reminder of the power of storytelling and the enduring spirit of small bookstores (as Tookie dryly quips, “Small bookstores have the romance of doomed intimate spaces about to be erased by unfettered capitalism”). As a bookseller myself, I found this book to be relatable in the best way and truly enjoyable. If you’re seeking a novel that will transport you into the world of bookstores and bookselling and make you feel right at home, ‘The Sentence’ is a definitely one to pick up.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Started reading 08/10/23.

I just started reading Nick Cook’s ‘Fighting for Our Lives’, which is a history of the community response that emerged in the face of the devastating HIV/AIDS crisis in Australia, during the period between the early 80s up till the year 2000. It thoroughly details the backdrop of those harrowing two decades that were filled w illness, fear, discrimination and stigma, and haunting and immense loss, but it also illuminates the extraordinary response that emerged frm the marginalised communities affected by this crisis.

The book’s focus is predominantly on the gay male community, of course, but I do hope it also spotlights to some degree the sex workers and those who inject drugs, and the ways they came together to help support these organisations that sprung up and how they helped in advocating fr the rights, dignity, and health and medical care of those infected and also more broadly impacted by HIV/AIDS. Alliances like these, which played a pivotal role in Australia’s successful response to AIDS, really highlight the power of collective action in times of crisis. And similarly, I’m hoping Cook will also mention the often overlooked history of the critical role played by many lesbian women in providing caregiving and support to gay men infected w HIV/AIDS and the wider gay male community, as it’s stories and histories such as these that offer a broader perspective on the AIDS epidemic and the diversity and brass of the individuals and communities who came together to combat it.

I also appreciated Cook’s brief discussion on how, prior to the AIDS crisis, condoms had quite a different public perception and usage, as they were primarily seen as a contraceptive method, rather than a means of preventing the transmission of STIs. This perception largely stemmed frm societal norms and the focus on family planning w/in nuclear households. However, the AIDS crisis in the 80s and 90s dramatically changed the perception and usage of condoms. As the awareness of HIV/AIDS grew, organisations such as ACON played a crucial role in promoting condoms as a vital tool fr safer sex. This shift in perception not only underscored the importance of condoms fr public health but also helped destigmatise their use, in which condoms began to be seen as a responsible choice fr individuals, regardless of their gender or sexual orientation, to protect themselves and their partners frm potentially life-threatening infections. So, the AIDS crisis, as Cook explains, not only prompted organisations to push fr condom use but also led to an increase in other safe sex awareness campaigns, educational initiatives, and widespread distribution of safe sex tools. These efforts helped reshape the narrative around condoms, emphasising their role in preventing the spread of HIV and other STIs, saving countless lives.

I also feel pretty passionate about this book due to it being in part also a history of ACON, as I volunteered at one point w ACON’s Community Visitors Scheme, where you visit w and provide companionship to socially and/or culturally isolated LGBTQ+ seniors, and so I feel like it gives me a tiny tiny tiiiiny piece of personal connection to this narrative, or at the very least has strengthened my already high opinion of all that ACON has done and still is doing.

Likewise, ‘Fighting for Our Lives’ has just overall furthered my inspiration and desire to help and to support the queer community/communities, and serves as a poignant reminder of the resilience and strength of those who fought fr their lives and the lives of others during this critical period in history. I’m also about to start a job doing mental health/disability support work w a queer/trans-run organisation that serves the disabled queer community, and reading this book has left me feeling even more passionate about heading into such a field, and the opportunity I’ve been presented in making a difference in the lives of multiply marginalised queer people.

Thank you Nick Cook fr writing this book!

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Started reading 03/10/23.

I just started reading ‘Transgender Australia’ by Noah Riseman, and I feel it’ll definitely be a pretty fuckin invaluable contribution to the field of trans history in Australia, that’ll address the significant gap in the literature that is out there by providing this comprehensive exploration of the lived experiences of trans and gender diverse people over the past century.

The book’s use of oral history interviews and previously unexamined documents and media reports not only illuminates the personal narratives of the trans people contained within but also sheds light on the societal, medical, and legal contexts that have shaped their lives. This approach effectively humanises the history of trans people in Australia and underscores the resilience and courage we’ve shown in navigating a society that has more often than not marginalised and stigmatised us.

I also really appreciated Riseman’s commitment to not profiting frm these histories and donating any profits to trans charities and support orgs, which is truly commendable, and reflects a genuine dedication to amplifying the voices and experiences of trans and gender-diverse people and communities, prioritising our stories and wellbeing above all else.

So, ‘Transgender Australia’ is not just a historical account but also a celebration of the diversity and contributions of trans people to Australian society. It serves as an essential resource fr anyone interested in understanding the rich tapestry of trans experiences in Australia and the ongoing struggles and triumphs of our community. This book is a testament to the importance of recognising and preserving the histories of marginalised groups, ensuring that their stories are heard and learned frm by all, and that no one gets left behind.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 01/10/23 - 03/10/23.

5 stars. A sensational and fantastic book! And if you read all of this review, I’ll send you a gold star sticker in the mail 🌟

To start, as the echoes of covid and all that the pandemic entails continues to reverberate globally, this book arrives as a crucial and timely piece of work. It doesn’t stop at just dissecting the systemic racism deeply ingrained in our healthcare and medicine and science here in the west, but also lays down the urgency of decolonisation, making it essential reading not only fr healthcare professionals but fr anyone concerned about the glaring disparities vulnerable and marginalised populations face.

Sowemimo’s eloquence in unravelling the complex historical roots of modern medicine is well-researched and accessible, and she confronts these uncomfortable truths head-on, forcing us to reevaluate our understanding of modern western healthcare’s colonial and racist past that’s still bleeding into the present. Overall, she presents us w a searingly truthful account that speaks to the heart of the matter.

Sowemimo’s lived experience in this book also really shines through, as a doctor, patient, activist, etc etc, that all infuse authenticity into her overarching narrative. Through her, I was able to further my knowledge and understanding of the stark realities of systemic racism, hidden histories, and healthcare myths that persist today, and her courage in sharing these experiences really underscore the urgency of this conversation.

One thing I really appreciated in the book was her discussion on how we perceive the advancements in modern science and medicine. As she explains, it challenges the prevailing narrative that attributes these advancements solely to individual “geniuses”, who were more often then not privileged white European men, while overlooking, ignoring, and concealing the collective and more diverse contributions that have shaped modern medicine. Like modern medicine is a result of collective learning and collaboration across cultures, borrowed and sometimes appropriated frm different traditions, and this perspective forces us to acknowledge the rich tapestry of medical knowledge that existed long before the advent of “modern” medicine, often held by Indigenous cultures and other marginalised groups.

And by perpetuating this notion that modern medicine is primarily a product of white European male genius, we unintentionally (but also intentionally) erase the contributions of Indigenous and other historically marginalised communities. As Sowemimo explains, this erasure not only distorts the history of medicine but also reinforces harmful stereotypes and power imbalances. Likewise, the deliberate obscuring of the full history of medicine serves a colonial and white supremacist agenda, suggesting that Indigenous and enslaved people lacked the intellectual capacity to care fr themselves before European colonisation, and this viewpoint is not only entirely inaccurate but also incredibly harmful, as it dismisses the resilience, knowledge, and contributions of these communities. As she says, “We believe that Western medicine heralded progress, but the reality is that it could never have progressed were it not for colonial exposure to ‘traditional’ medicine practised in the Global South.”

Sowemimo also highlights a critical issue in the criminal legal system, in that her proposal to seek alternatives to incarceration challenges the conventional notion of retribution, drawn frm her experience as a doctor treating victims of sexual violence. She recognises that our current system in place in the west often fails to provide victims w the necessary tools, such as therapy and monetary reparations, to address the psychological traumas they endure after sexual violence, and this forces us to question the efficacy of punitive approaches, raising important questions about rehabilitation, healing, and addressing the root causes of criminal behaviour. As she says, we must envision a more compassionate and effective way of addressing crime and supporting those who have suffered its consequences, as the current system we have in place is very clearly not working.

I also found a lot of value in Sowemimo’s exploration of another critical issue in modern healthcare: the digital divide. In an age where technology is becoming increasingly integrated into healthcare services, there’s this steadily growing disparity between those who can easily access digital healthcare solutions and those who cannot. This divide disproportionately affects vulnerable populations, including the elderly, the homeless, the working class, and those w limited computer education. She explains that it’s evident that as healthcare services move online, those who are already at risk of poor health are further marginalised. As we continue to build internet-based healthcare solutions, we must ensure that we leave no one behind and work to create a healthcare system that serves all members of society, regardless of their digital capabilities or socioeconomic status.

All up, this book not only exposes the racial biases within medicine but also provides an illuminating perspective on how our world operates and, also importantly, who it serves. It’s a wake-up call that demands our attention, and it’s impossible to read it w/out being profoundly moved. ‘Divided’ has helped further reshape my perception of health and medicine, in a similar vein to ‘Inflamed’ by Rupa Marya and Raj Patel, and if you enjoyed that book you’ll undoubtedly appreciate this work as well. ‘Divided’ deserves nothing less than five stars fr its eloquence, urgency, and the profound impact it can make on our world. My gratitude to the author fr this monumental contribution to our understanding of healthcare, racism, and the pressing need fr decolonisation.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Started reading 01/10/23.

I’m currently reading ‘Divided: Racism, Medicine and Why We Need to Decolonise Healthcare’ by Annabel Sowemimo. This book has emerged as a powerful, timely, and indispensable work that challenges our perceptions of healthcare, science, and medicine. Sowemimo shines a light on the profound impact of systemic racism in these fields, making it a must-read not just fr healthcare professionals but fr anyone concerned about the inherent inequalities ingrained into our healthcare systems, and wider society and instituons.

In the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic, we’ve all witnessed stark health disparities that demand immediate attention, yet as this book reminds us, these inequalities have deep historical roots rooted in colonialism and racism. Sowemimo explores the colonial origins of modern medicine, unearthing hidden histories and debunking healthcare myths. Her personal experiences as a doctor, patient, and activist lend authenticity to her narrative, making it a relatable and deeply moving account.

‘Divided’ also does more than expose the racial biases within medicine; it forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about the world we live in and who it serves. By unravelling the colonial underpinnings of healthcare, Sowemimo’s work becomes a catalyst fr change. It urges us to reevaluate our understanding of health and medicine, providing an essential perspective that will forever reshape how we view these critical aspects of our lives.

Annabel Sowemimo’s contribution through this book is invaluable, and we should indeed be grateful to her fr addressing such pressing issues with eloquence and urgency. It serves as a call to action, encouraging us to actively work towards decolonising healthcare and striving fr the vision of a better world.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 08/09/23 - 17/09/23.

4 stars. ‘Decolonize Multiculturalism’ offers up a thorough exploration of the complex evolution of multiculturalism, and I’m impressed by its deep analysis and thought-provoking message. Alessandrini delves into the inspiring student and youth movements of the 1960s and 1970s, which were fueled by global decolonisation and anti-racism movements. In his analysis, he highlights the profound societal transformation sought by these movements, contrasting it w the harsh repression they faced frm various institutional power structures such as police and university administrations.

What sets this book apart is its critique of modern institutionalised multiculturalism. Alessandrini skillfully exposes the disconnect between contemporary multiculturalism, riddled w buzzwords and virtue signalling. Like take the way decolonisation has been turned into a sparkly new term fr a multitude of things, like “decolonise therapy!” and “decolonise academia!”, yet often fails to centre the anticolonial and anti-racist struggles that sparked its inception. He navigates through the layers of branding strategies to reveal the lingering remnants of the original radical ideals, as these ideals aimed to redefine universities, liberating them frm their settler colonial, white supremacist, and patriarchal capitalist origins, and transforming them into hubs of radical democratic potential.

While the book’s critique is sharp, Alessandrini also manages to maintain a nuanced perspective throughout. He invites us to critically engage w the evolution of multiculturalism, acknowledging both its potential fr progress and its (greater) potential fr co-optation. Ultimately, in ‘Decolonize Multiculturalism’, Alessandrini provides us w an insightful journey through the intricate web of historical and ideological forces shaping multiculturalism, and challenges us to reevaluate the path of progress and social change while rekindling the spirit of those early activist movements.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 09/09/23 - 17/09/23

Picked this up fr a steal at work, a whopping $9.37 secondhand. Jane Fonda’s 2005 autobiography, ‘My Life So Far’, is a tale of the life of the beloved, yet at times divisive, Hollywood icon. As someone who has long appreciated her work, both as an actress and as an activist, but didn’t truly know the depth of her life and lived experiences, I’m finding her bio to be a revelation of sorts. Like beyond the glitz of Barbarella and the charm of 9 to 5 and later Grace and Frankie, Jane Fonda’s story is steadily unveilling a tapestry of emotions and struggles that resonate w me and I’m sure many others.

Like fr instance, her tumultuous relationships w her parents, particularly the tragic circumstances surrounding her mother’s institutionalisation and eventual suicide while Jane was still a young girl, offer a poignant glimpse into the complexities of family dynamics, and is a series of events I had absolutely no idea about. And similarly, her cold and tumultuous relationship w her father, marked by his neglect and occasional and spontaneous fits of aggression and violence, adds another layer of depth to her life story, that I also had no idea about before starting this book. Likewise, her candid account of long-standing battles w body image, particularly her fight against bulimia and then anorexia, is heart-wrenching. Again, prior to reading this book, I wasn’t acutely aware of these personal trials, which makes her narrative all the more poignant. In light of this, I’ve found that ‘My Life So Far’ not only sheds light on Jane’s remarkable career but, more importantly, also humanises a beloved figure, making her life story both relatable and inspiring fr countless readers.

What I’m most excited to read though, is her (hopefully) unflinching honesty about her activism during the discordant and chaotic era that was the 70s. I’m excited to hear about her association w the Black Panthers (albeit a brief one) and other Civil Rights causes, as well as her involvement w Native American activism such as visiting both Alcatraz and the Fort Lawton occupation, and also on her controversial activism against the Vietnam War, which earned her the infamous “Hanoi Jane” nickname. I’m sure she won’t shy away frm discussing these things as they took place, and the challenges she faced during those times, and I can’t wait to read about them.

I’m hoping ‘My Life So Far’ will go beyond being a celebrity tell-all, and I have faith in Jane Fonda that it absolutely will. So far, it’s shaping up to be a testament to human resilience in the face of adversity and injustice. Jane Fonda’s willingness to share her personal life story, warts and all, easily makes this autobiography a worthwhile read not just fr dedicated fans, but even those just seeking some insight into the human condition, as we are reminded by Jane that even iconic figures such as her, seemingly way up high on their Hollywood pedestals, are affected and shaped by the same universal feelings, struggles, and trials and tribulations that, in the end, connect us all.

Ugh, just what a spectacular and talented and gracious and kind and strong and tough woman. I’m obsessed!

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 03/09/23 - 08/09/23

3.75 stars. ‘The Wild Places’ by Robert Macfarlane offers a beautifully written piece of work on the untamed wilderness of Britain and Ireland, wherein he delivers an eloquent, evocative, and poetic narrative exploring the blurred line between the human and the wildness. Likewise, Macfarlane’s ability to balance accessibility w intellectual depth is reminiscent of his other work I recently read and enjoyed, ‘Underland’.

Macfarlane’s overarching question regarding the existence of genuinely wild places in these regions is thought-provoking. Throughout the journey he brings us w him on, we are led through moors, forests, and coastlines, among other wild landscapes, offering vivid descriptions and keen observations that highlight the profound connections between nature and our existence.

However, a recurring issue I found in ‘Underland’ also persists in this book, which is that while both books are full of Macfarlane’s mastery w words, ‘The Wild Places’ similarly seems to, at times, lack a solid and central thesis, occasionally meandering w/out clear direction. This often left me feeling as if I had to search fr the main point in each chapter, as well as wishing he could get to it more directly.

Despite this, Macfarlane’s ability to weave personal experiences, historical context, and ecological insights creates beautifully written and mind-expanding journeys into the remaining wilderness, both in the landscapes he explores and in our own consciousness. His works remind us of the enduring power of nature, inspiring us to cherish the wildness that still surrounds us.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 04/09/23 - 06/09/23.

5 stars. I really enjoyed reading Danny Caine’s delightful and incredibly vital book, ‘How to Protect Bookstores and Why’. I work part-time as a bookseller myself, so I found it incredibly relatable, urgently needed, and even heart-warming, and Caine’s exploration of why we should protect bookstores and by extension booksellers, told in part through the captivating vignettes/interviews of twelve different bookstores and their booksellers (all but two are USA-based bookstores, where Caine is frm, and the other two are in Paris, France and Ontario, Canada), further fuelled my passion fr the bookselling industry.

This book highlights the profound role that bookstores and booksellers play in our society, far beyond being conduits fr the simple exchange of literature. Caine effectively demonstrates how, among many and varied other things, bookstores and booksellers curate diverse collections, challenging mainstream narratives and promoting critical thinking; serve as historical record keepers, preserving ideas at risk of being forgotten or suppressed; and act as vital gathering places fr discourse and activism, amplifying voices that might otherwise go unheard.

Supporting bookstores is, as Caine emphasises, also a form of resistance against the monopolies of big corporations in the book industry, such as Amazon and big box stores like Barnes & Noble in the USA and perhaps even Dymocks here in Australia. Smaller local and indie bookstores also tend to champion diversity in publishing, ensuring a broader range of voices are heard, as well as celebrating historically marginalised communities and their histories, such as those of queer or Indigenous communities, preventing their stories frm being lost or, as is more actively becoming the case, suppressed and banned. Many of these smaller bookstores also tend to actively engage in political activism in their communities, turning their spaces into hubs fr progressive causes and advocating fr social justice.

‘How to Protect Bookstores and Why’ powerfully illustrates the invaluable role of bookstores and booksellers in shaping political discourse, fostering social change, and challenging the status quo, alongside many other roles, all on top of trying to survive and stay open in the hellscape that is capitalism. This book is a must-read fr anyone who values not just bookstores, but also the preservation of ideas, the amplification of marginalised voices, and the advancement of important social and political discourse and conversations.

Please support bookstores and the dedicated booksellers who make them havens fr diverse thought and expression, in any way you can. Whether that’s, as Danny Caine suggests, buying books directly frm them (ideally in person but if that’s not possible through their online stores) rather than sites like Amazon, who is killing the bookselling industry, or third-party sites like Bookshop.org (though Caine admits there can be both positives and negatives about these third-party sites), or to buying and wearing their merch or, if you can’t support them monetarily, showing up to the (typically free!) events they hold, whether that’s author signings and in-conversations/talks or bookclubs, or even just spreading by word-of-mouth and social media the good word about the importance of bookstores and why they most urgently need to be looked after, especially in this current political and economic climate.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 31/08/23 - 03/09/23.

4 stars. In ‘After Work’, Helen Hester and Nick Srnicek delve into an incredibly in-depth analysis, spread across four key areas: the evolution of household technologies, the shifting norms, standards, and expectations of domestic labour and social reproduction, the evolving concepts and anticipations surrounding family structures, including the rise of the nuclear family as a privatised entity more separated frm its kinship and communal ties than it has been in the past, and lastly, an exploration of the various arenas of reproduction, such as the collective approaches to social reproduction labour and on to communal living experiments, among other things here and there.

One thing I found very interesting about this book was its exploration of the profound transformations that the industrialisation of domestic labour has brought about. Delving into the transition of household tasks frm manual household-based production to mass-market production and consumption, Hester and Srnicek trace the evolution of convenience, efficiency, and comfort as driving forces behind this societal shift. They present a thorough analysis of how this shift has both improved the quality of life fr many, but, at the same time, exacerbated immense and rigid inequalities.

Srnicek and Hester adeptly dissect the multifaceted impacts of this evolution on women, and particularly immigrant women and women of colour, who have historically been the primary providers of reproductive labour. While the potential fr alleviating certain burdens is evident, they astutely demonstrate how these changes also reinforce disparities, disproportionately affecting marginalised groups. Their questioning of the trade-offs between convenience and equitable distribution of benefits is a really interesting aspect of the book.

They also cast a critical eye on the transformation of the “housewife” figure as domestic labour evolved. As tasks once performed collectively were redefined within individual households, the value and significance of this labour often remained hidden within the private realm. This erasure of recognition reflects a broader societal oversight that the authors deftly address. Frm this needs to come impactful discourse pertaining to the resurgence of complex labour arrangements, drawing attention to the class and race dynamics inherent in the outsourcing of domestic work. The cycle of outsourcing, particularly involving low-income individuals and predominantly women of colour and immigrant women, echoes historical patterns while shedding light on persisting inequalities.

I also appreciated their discussion on “hustle culture” and the relentless pursuit of productivity in our lives, encroaching into our precious and limited leisure time. In a society where the value of one’s existence is often measured by their ability to constantly work and, increasingly over the last five or so years, accumulate side hustles, it’s no wonder that, as Hester and Srnicek explain, guilt can creep in when we take a moment to pause. This culture extends beyond the traditional workday, w technology now blurring the lines between one’s professional and personal life, as the pressure to always be accessible to our workplaces erodes the boundaries that once separated remunerated work frm our private home life. And increasingly, instead of savouring our leisure time, many of us now often find ourselves haunted by the imperative to be productive. Fr instance, activities that were once considered simple pleasures, like watching tele or reading, are now tainted by the notion that they are time-wasting endeavours, and the pressure to make every moment count leaves us unable to simply rest and enjoy life w/out the nagging feeling that we should be doing something more “productive.”

And in light of this, Hester and Srnicek underscore the need fr a reevaluation of our values and priorities, and call fr a shift away frm the relentless pursuit of productivity and the guilt that accompanies any moment of idleness. Instead, they explain we should be encouraged to find a balance that allows us to truly relish our leisure time and embrace the importance of rest, relaxation, and enjoying the present moment. We must allow ourselves the freedom to break free frm the chains of perpetual busyness, and leave hustle culture in the chaotic 2020-2022 covid era where it belongs.

Likewise, I deeply appreciated their examination of the welfare state’s historical role in shaping and enforcing societal standards. They emphasise how the welfare state, while ostensibly designed to provide support and assistance to those in need, has rather become a mechanism of surveillance and control, especially, as Hester and Srnicek explore, when it comes to matters of morality, hygiene, and family configurations. Throughout history, state figures such as health inspectors, school inspectors, and social workers have been tasked w enforcing prevailing bourgeois notions of morality and acceptable behaviour, primarily within working-class communities, and this enforcement of standards can range frm relatively minor issues like school dress codes to far more serious cases involving the removal of children frm their families and placement in underfunded foster care systems.

The child welfare system, then, has come under scrutiny fr imposing standards that extend beyond safety and wellbeing, often leading to investigations based on arbitrary criteria or biases. These investigations, more often than not, target poor families and subject them to intensive surveillance, perpetuating a cycle of state intervention rather than offering meaningful assistance. The authors also explore how teachers, nurses, and social workers, as agents of the state, have played key roles in producing a docile and exploitable workforce, which is inherently tied to state repression. The imposition of specific standards of self-presentation, hygiene, and behaviour is all part of this process, as individual choices and deliberation about these standards often encounter significant limitations, particularly when these norms are codified into law.

So w this in mind, we urgently need to transform the structures that impose these standards and to collectively determine and self-legislate the norms we wish to uphold, as well as deeply question the balance between state intervention and individual agency, advocating fr a more equitable participatory, and communal approach to shaping societal standards and supporting those in need, w/out resorting to surveillance and control as the default response, but rather one based in mutual aid.

Another facet of the book that stood out to me that Hester and Srnicek highlight is that despite some significant progress in gender equality in many aspects of society, there nevertheless remains a persistent and deeply entrenched gendered division of labour within the family, as the family unit, traditionally seen as the cornerstone of society, more often than not perpetuates inequalities, particularly in terms of social reproduction and unwaged work.

Like even as women’s participation in the paid workforce has increased since the 1960s, and men have taken on slightly (only slightly!) more household responsibilities, the gendered division of labour within the family endures. Women around the world continue to bear the brunt of unwaged housework and caregiving duties, dedicating on average 3.2 times more hours to these tasks than men. This gendered disparity in unpaid care work persists, w American women, fr instance, accounting fr 60 per cent of unpaid care work in 2015.

Statistics like these reveal that the gendered division of labour within the family is remarkably resistant to change. To give further examples, employed women in the USA saw no reduction in the number of hours they spent on unwaged social reproduction between 1985 and 2004. Likewise, in the UK, women perform 60 per cent more unwaged labour than men, and even in Nordic countries celebrated fr their high rates of gender equality, women in Norway and Denmark still do nearly 1.5 times as much unpaid work. Even in Sweden, often hailed as a paragon of gender equality, the average woman performs 1.6 years more of unpaid social reproduction labour than the average man during her lifetime. These persistent disparities raise critical questions about the true nature of gender equality, social reproduction, and unwaged labour. It underscores the need fr a comprehensive reevaluation of societal norms, policies, and structures, not only in the workplace but within privatised spaces like the home.

Basically, check out this quote: “Women across the world almost always have less leisure time than men - on average, thirty-three minutes less per day, or nearly four hours less per week. The official statistics for the UK arrive at a similar conclusion: men currently have five hours more free time per week, and this inequality has been increasing over the past fifteen years. Further imbalances become apparent when one considers the character of that free time… For example, according to a standard time-use survey, a mother who is watching television while also passively supervising a toddler playing nearby would be coded as enjoying her free time. Yet obviously this situation also involves some element of childcare work and in any case is a quite different type of free time than that experienced when one’s dependents are not present. This is one reason why those heavily engaged in social reproduction work tend to have a different experience of time. This work involves frequent interruptions and demands persistent background attention. Given that men spend a greater portion of their leisure time not in the company of their children, it is little surprise that researchers find they have better quality free time than women: they are more likely to have longer periods of leisure, with fewer distractions, restrictions, and interruptions.”

Ultimately, in ‘After Work,’ Hester and Srnicek present a well-written and eye-opening narrative that, among other things, underscores the transformative power of industrialisation and digitalisation on social reproduction, the home, and domestic labour. Their analysis of the multifaceted impact on both convenience and inequality, coupled with the incisive exploration of historical shifts in labour dynamics, offers us a profound understanding of the complexities woven into the fabric of societal evolution. This book is an insightful contribution to discussions surrounding gender, labour, and the broader implications of industrialisation and digitalisation.

[readingthroughtheapocalypse]

Read 13/08/23 - 18/08/23.

I want to preface by saying holy shit I honestly thought I would ‘t have a heap to say about this book when I started, but then I started working on this review as I was reading it and at about a quarter through the book I found I couldn’t fucking shut up and it turned into a genuine fucking essay lol. This honestly could’ve been so much longer bc so many chapters as I got further and further in just totally wowed me. Clearly I’m missing being at uni. Ten million points to anyone who reads it all the way through.

5 stars. ‘Eating to Extinction’ is an ambitious and incredibly interesting piece of work, that explores the very timely issue of critically endangered, rare, and vanishing foods, frm certain grains to meats and fish, to vegetables and fruits, etc etc. Saladino’s exploration of the dwindling variety of foods that were once vital to human diets and health and biodiversity more generally is both enlightening and thought-provoking, and he makes a powerful case fr the urgency of preserving these foods in our modern world.

The book is a stark demonstration of how only a handful of the hugely numerous of foods once consumed by humans have survived today. Saladino’s argument fr the significance of preserving these foods in the face of extinction is compelling, and his passion fr the subject shines through. As he explains, one significant argument fr preserving rare and vanishing foods is their potential contribution to biodiversity and ecological balance, as, fr instance, many of these foods possess unique genetic traits that could be crucial fr adapting to changing environmental conditions as a result of climate change and global warming, or even on a slightly smaller scale fr developing disease-resistant crops. By safeguarding these foods, we can maintain a valuable resource fr future agricultural innovation and environmental sustainability.

One thing Saladino kept turning to that I hadn’t really heard about before was the “Green Revolution,” a period of significant advancements in agricultural technology and practices that took place in the mid-20th century. It involved the development and introduction of high-yielding crop varieties, along w improved irrigation and farming techniques. These changes aimed to increase agricultural productivity and help address food shortages, particularly in developing countries. However, the Green Revolution had a major impact on global food production, and while it supposedly played a crucial role in reducing hunger and improving food security, it also had a number of incredibly negative impacts on biodiversity. As Saladino explains, the focus on a few high-yielding crop varieties led to the widespread adoption of monocultures, where large swathes of land (such as in the Amazon) were planted w the same type of crop, fr example a single variety of corn or wheat. This shift away frm diverse local crops reduced the genetic diversity of plants in those regions, and similarly, the use of chemical fertilisers, pesticides, and irrigation practices had unintended consequences on the environment, as excessive use of these inputs often led to soil degradation, water pollution, and harm to non-target organisms, including beneficial insects and soil microorganisms. Traditional crop varieties and farming practices also were often abandoned in favour of the new high-yielding varieties, leading to the loss of unique local plant varieties and the age-old knowledge associated w them, and this further contributed to a decrease in biodiversity. As Saladino says in his chapter on the tuber oca, “Across the Andes, Emshwiller has seen other farmers abandon rotation systems for monocultures in which they attempt to grow the same crop on the same land year after year. This usually results in them using more pesticides and, as the soil becomes exhausted, they have to bring in fertilisers. In this way, they had lost not only ancient varieties of oca, but also the complex system that had given them self-sufficiency.”

Another engaging aspect was on the overall importance of knowing the origins of the food we eat. Fr one, it helps us understand the quality, safety, and sustainability of the food, as by knowing where it comes frm, we can make informed choices about its production methods and environmental impact. Likewise, it also allows us to trace the cultural, historical, and evolutionary aspects of our diets. It provides insights into the ways early societies cultivated, prepared, and consumed food, influencing our present-day food practices.

Take the origins of the chicken, frm its ancestor believed to be the red jungle fowl to the monstrosity that is the modern-day factory farmed chicken. This evolution of the chicken is a significant and complex shift. As Saladino explores, understanding this transformation is crucial bc it allows us to comprehend the factors that led to the development of factory farming practices and their subsequent impact on animal welfare and the environment. By knowing the historical context, we can better assess the ethical and sustainability issues associated w modern poultry production, leading to informed discourse and potential changes in farming practices and consumer behaviour. The accelerated pace of the poultry industry’s development has not only impacted the lifespan of birds but also various aspects of its operations, as the intensification of operations within large poultry systems comes w potential pitfalls.

Consider facilities housing thousands of genetically similar birds, where any mishap can have dire consequences. Despite the supposed introduction of advanced biosecurity measures and close veterinary oversight in many factory farms in developed economies, done to alleviate problems that crop up in these very large and intensive systems, certain industrial approaches to poultry production (like running at speeds of 175 birds slaughtered per minute) is spreading to regions w fewer resources and expertise, raising concerns among animal disease experts who suggest that such expansion could facilitate the emergence of zoonotic diseases, among other harms. The juxtaposition of efficiency-driven production and the vulnerability of such systems highlights the complex trade-offs within the poultry industry’s evolution. As the industry extends its reach to areas w limited safeguards, it underscores the need fr a balanced approach that considers not just economic benefits at the cost of everything, but also potential public health risks and issues of excessive animal cruelty.

In a similar vein, the current landscape we are in of an ever-changing climate requires us to be forward-thinking, and not driven by pure greed. We must not overlook the wisdom of safeguarding the biological tapestry that nature has woven over millions of years, and the homogenisation of the chicken may offer short-term benefits, but it’s far more imperative to consider the long-term implications. Striking a balance between innovation and preservation is a challenge that demands our immediate attention, and as stewards of this planet, we should be prudent enough to recognise that in the complexity of life, diversity holds one of the keys to our own survival.

But moving on, another food that Saladino discussed that I was particularly interested in was on the murnong, a yellow flower w a radish-like root frm southern Australia (I’m frm eastern Australia), and a staple food fr some Aboriginal peoples fr generations upon generations. However, as he explains, the knowledge of this plant’s cultivation and use, as well as the plant itself, was nearly lost due to the impacts of colonisation. Reviving this knowledge, he says, can effectively reconnect Indigenous communities w their cultural heritage and traditions. Likewise, through the Indigenous stewardship of their ancestral lands, it enables the application of traditional ecological knowledge, refined over generations, encouraging sustainable land management practices such as controlled burns and rotational farming, that benefit both the environment and the communities inhabiting them. So, by respecting Indigenous rights and practices, we can acknowledge their deep-rooted connections to the land and contribute to the restoration of balance disrupted by colonial history. As he briefly touches on, preserving Indigenous foods and traditional knowledge and practices is a crucial step towards reconciliation, and one that we all must advocate and fight fr.

However, one of the book’s minor drawbacks lies in its occasional repetitiveness. Saladino often links the various foods he’s exploring in ways that felt at times unnecessary, occasionally veering into monotony. This repetitiveness slightly diminished the otherwise interesting narrative and made certain parts of the book less engaging.

But regardless, the overall impact of Saladino’s research and passionate argument is undeniable. As Saladino says in the epilogue, we must work on reestablishing our deep connection w nature and our commitment to preserving the vanishing wild and diverse foods once so heavily a part of not just our diets but our lives. Embracing these foods wouldn’t just be a personal choice, but a transformative practice that many can and should adopt, even on small scales. According to Saladino, the notion of eating a simple dandelion from one’s lawn can become a symbol of rebellion against the norm, urging us to rediscover the flavours and benefits of wild ingredients. This approach encourages a reconnection w nature and a reimagining of our relationship with food, emphasising the importance of sustainability, diversity, and a harmonious coexistence w the natural world. This book is an incredibly important read fr anyone concerned about the future of not just our food diversity, but of our planet, and the urgent need fr action to repair the harms we have inflicted upon this earth.

Do yrself a favour and read this book!