femmenerd

Hey, I have actually read a couple of books!

what I just finished
First Witches Club by Maisey Yates, which was cute and fast but relentlessly heterosexual. It's about 3 women whose husbands have left them coming together to learn that magic is real. The community building is nice. This is kind of a beach/airplane read, but it was the first new-to-me book I was able to stick with in a while.

The Teller of Small Fortunes by Julie Leong, which I enjoyed quite a bit. It's kind of a picaresque about Tao, the titular fortune-teller, and the friends she meets along the way. It's pretty cozy, but things do happen in it.

what I'm reading now
Saint Death's Daughter by CSE Cooney, which I am enjoying. It's as if The Locked Tomb and Flora Segunda had a sunshiny necromantic daughter. I wouldn't have thought you could make necromancy twee, but Cooney sure does try.

what I'm reading next
Likely Saint Death's Herald, the sequel to the above. And then in just over a week, Parade of Horribles comes out and I will be reading that immediately.

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Today's poem:

Bright Wings

I was walking in the garden looking for the intermediaries
between me and the clear light. I had left the hose running
much too long. Something was eating holes in the ear-soft
leaves of the morning glories. I saw for the first time
that the neighbor was growing corn - the yellow shocks
were leaning just above the cinder-block fence, and they
looked delicate and scruffy, like city corn, like alien corn,
and suddenly there was so much to be done, so much to
put in order, not the ordinary business of loving and dying,
but the ordinary business that comes bundled with them:
Sunlight behaved perfectly in every corner, the shadows breathed
in their one direction and told stories, our cat crouched in the flower bed
aching to kill something: How do you explain being so convinced,
so utterly taken by the idea that beauty is somehow moral?
I mean in this day and age? I mean now when no one can even get
that equation to hold up? But the ants have formed a black
ribbon that leads to a dead snail. But the Pipers and Cessnas
and Beechcraft are circling and banking for the airport with
so much color and precision. But the dogs two houses down
have heard the mail-carrier's foot, and they have erupted.
This is not the argument I'm looking for. And I have been lazy.
Tangerines and lemons have swollen and dropped from their
impatient branches. They lie among the fern and the vine, bruised
and mushy. They are being swarmed. They are being devoured.

--Frank X. Gaspar

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