a woman at night is like a man in the morning

except in all the ways she is not

for there are no means for the mounted streetlight to feel as warm

on skin

as the unrobed mid-day sun

nor can the sweet chirp of mothers to their young in the nest atop that big old birch

quite compare to the cricket’s night

interspersed by those phantom voices spun

by the hungry winds

gusty manhandling of autumn’s last branches

the moon for all her virtues

cannot give the time

no more than the sun can refrain himself from his merry traverse

on the trail of east to west

from dawn until dusk

when man’s wondrous telescope finds itself wrapped under a tarp

bearing the dirt of good fun

hoisted onto something so naturally manufactured for liberation

a Jeep, perhaps, or a pickup truck

 sans the sort of thing resembling a cover or door

or perhaps onto a back naked without the indentations of a bra

braced upon loud clunky feet that squelch down the mud path

they have never learned to tip-toe around uncles in living rooms

and meander to kitchens where mothers pour libations for thirsty throats or

to hush the patter of hurried footsteps

and avoid the big old lurker lying in the shadows

or to use inside voices when not inside

and listen for those foreign fingers hungry for tender necks

and to stay away from bad manners and shadows

no matter if the shadows transport  

to a poppy field

their pearly whiteness more spectacular night’s canvas and in it

where a patch of grass has

been worn down by calloused bare feet

in the same way man may fall to his knees

look at stars in skies

as the Romans did when Jupiter struck down light’s mandate from His celestial mantle so

too must woman fall

but to scatter rings of salt in the dark

knees resemble meniscus

at night man will delight in the moon

but know that she is nothing without sun’s light

woman could never think to look up

and arrive at this mournful realization

amongst the manic thrum of

howls erupting from the menagerie’s wolves menacing

the walk from car door to home door

uniformed silhouettes brandishing woven manacles

breeding fathers’ Mendelian gaze on adolescent breasts

dead men

and wandering fingers reeking of menthol and vapor

she hears them all in the menial silence of dawn’s darker precursor

senses heightened by menarche

and tragically

the scent of her own traitorous blood is what does her in before morning

All our guests have arrived, and we’re both at the altar.

I used to wonder what you thought about when you closed your eyes. When you were awake, it was easy enough to tell. You either had your nose down in a book, or you were taking a moment so we could listen to music or read together. You’d come up with these fantastic ideas as we danced to whatever song you chose, and when they blew my mind, you would give me the most breathtaking smile. But when you slept, it was a little harder. You didn’t toss and turn, you never made a peep. I watched you for years. And, though you never seemed quite happy, you always seemed the most at peace.

Everyone’s staring at you. Always at you.

I used to wish you’d never found me. We spent every moment together, since. Every class, every meal, and every conversation. It was great…but I felt guilty. You never spent time with anyone else, even when they asked first. No one ever saw me, standing when someone took the seat beside you, or quietly stepping back when they got too close and unknowingly pushed me aside. They never looked my way, and that was fine. But you never spoke to them, and I always felt like it was my fault.

You look so beautiful, I can barely hear the priest.

Would it have been this way if we’d never met, all those years ago? You knew me better than I knew myself. Maybe that was the problem. I savored every moment with you. But there were days you’d grow silent, and just stare at your phone. Days where you’d smile with everyone else, then cry the moment we got back to your room. There were a lot of those days, and I couldn’t comfort you through any of them. Those days, I wish you’d known me a lot less. Those days, I wished you could forget about me.

After the service, everyone stands as we head down the aisle.

I used to wonder about you. It was seventeen years ago you decided you were tired of playing alone, and you saw me for the first time. You dragged me into your make-believe games, and we’ve been together ever since. You were such a bright person. If we had grown apart, as most friends like us did, I know you wouldn’t have abandoned me. You would’ve sent me off with the most amazing story, more than I ever wanted, even if it could never compare to loving you. How it felt, being loved by you. You were everything, my Sun. I had always hoped you would forget me, and make better friends, like all the other children did. Now I wish I could’ve been enough.

They lower you into the ground. And I go with you.

Both moons were out tonight, their red and blue lights filtering through the branches overhead. The night where both moons were full came only once a year. If Esther were superstitious, she would take it as a sign that both moons were out the night she decided to run away from home.

The silence outside the high rampart of the city made her skin crawl. The cart’s wheels squeaked in protest as the draught horse’s hooves thudded in the dirt, drawing the cart forward. Inside the metal walls, the city was polluted by sirens wailing, car tires screeching, and factories churning away. Something behind those walls haunted Esther, and the fear sat deep in her chest as she recounted the seconds it took to get past the guards.

Crates surrounded her on all sides with her knees drawn up to her chest and a pelt blanket draped over her shoulders for warmth. To forget about the oppressive darkness of the surrounding forest, Esther kept her eyes pointed heavenward on the moons looming overheard. The driver’s rattling lantern was the only light source in the vicinity. The low noise of an owl hooting in the distance made Esther jump in surprise, slamming her elbow into a crate. The motion struck a nerve in her elbow, causing her to wince and hiss in pain.

“You alright back there, lass?” The driver asked, looking back at her.

She rubbed a hand against her elbow. A thick Valendolic accent touched his voice—a rare sound in the post-occupation era.

“I-I’m fine. No need to worry about me.”

“The owl startled you, eh?” he chuckled a bit. “I can’t blame you. Those buggers sound awfully intimidating this time of night. ‘Specially when you can’t see.”

“I’ve, uh, barely been out of the city myself. You don’t hear them a lot inside the walls.”

He nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. I can’t imagine animals wanting to live inside those blasted walls. Humans least of all.”

Somewhere, back within city limits, she knew her brother and father were panicking about where she was. What if they were phoning her now disconnected number, knocking on their neighbors’ doors asking if they’d seen her anywhere, or calling her school to ask if she’d come in for the day? Maybe her father was so desperate he reached out to her mother and ask if she’d decided to stay at her place. None of their efforts would yield answers—by daylight, Esther would be long gone.

This title was published on April 4, 2024 by Zsa Zsa Publishing.

In the wake of her son’s death, Debbie Enever’s world as a mother is wrenched away and a new identity of “midow” takes hold. A term coined by Enever herself, a midow is a mother who has lost, or widowed, her only child. Midowed: A Mother’s Grief explores the year after Dan’s death as she navigates organ donations, funerals, holding onto memories, and finding her future.

Segmented into three parts, the novel starts on a Saturday in late May 2018 following the immediate aftermath of Dan’s accident. Faced with the terrible fact that her son has died, Enever keeps us with her at every step—the trips between hospitals, the impossible decisions, and the horror of seeing her fifteen-year-old son lying unconscious in a hospital bed. The days following his accident are documented in journal entries that intimately navigate her year of loss. We also learn about the process of organ donation while Dan’s friends and family find other ways to honor his memory.

Threaded throughout the present narrative, Enever weaves in Dan’s childhood. This choice allows readers to experience his favorite holidays; how they find their beloved dog, Maggie; and how a mother and son bond over football. And it’s Dan’s fierce love of football that propels him towards athletic ambitions. In his teenage years, he joins a gym and starts making his own high-protein meal plans. From these moments, there’s no doubt Dan’s life was full of passion. The contrast of these timelines fits together, in part, because Dan’s voice is a constant in both. While we get vivid and energetic moments in his upbringing, we also continue to hear him after his death through Enever’s personification of him. Utilizing italics, Enever allows for dialogue, opinions, and even comedic relief through Dan’s voice.

Reading this as a mid-thirties woman without children, I found myself welling up at the café as I ferociously paged through those early, dark days. Enever’s prose hones in on emotions in a way that makes them accessible to all readers. She showcases the detachment of survival that competes with the shutting down of grief.

“I’m in limbo, paused between the past and the future. Dan is in limbo, drifting between life and death. I feel like there are two of me; the puppet version of me standing, looking like a real person, and other me locked inside, with eyes closed, breath held, trying to hold onto one moment forever so nothing ever moves forward again.”

Here is the novel’s universal conflict—the perceived need to be constantly moving forward as grief grips onto us, temporarily holding us in periods of stasis. While I can’t know the loss of a child, the memoir speaks to other areas of grief I’ve experienced—having lost a loved one with no preamble and no warning. Enever’s vulnerability generates a sense of solidarity and being seen. In the year after Dan’s death, Enever deftly encapsulates the strange quality of time and solitude that follows loss.

“Minutes drag, and hours pass in a blink. I don’t want company anyway. Messages of love and support are still coming through, ping ping ping. Everyone else’s grief is hard to bear. I can’t tie up in my mind all that’s happened in the last few days. This is shock and it hums in my ears.”

Bereaved parents and those experiencing grief may relate to this sense of prostration in the wake of loss. And while I personally related to Enever’s raw openness, the novel makes no claim to be the answer to grief. In her memoir, she recognizes that friends and family manifested their grief in unique ways and she highlights the various ways to mourn. Despite their differences, however, those close to her all find small comforts in celebrating Dan’s life. That’s what this novel is at its core. A small comfort, a celebration, and a resource for fellow bereaved parents.

While there’s no denying the heartbreak in this memoir, there is also hope. Dan and Enever shared many conversations about organ donation during his life because of friends who needed, and successfully received, transplants. So, when the time comes to decide, Enever knows she isn’t deciding for Dan, but rather, ensuring his resolution to donate is fulfilled. She expresses this to the doctors to which Dan’s voice replies, Dead right, Mum. When Enever is allowed to enter his room prior to the procedure, she reminisces on his athletic life. Namely she reflects that instead of preparing for a bronze medal Dan’s keeping his organs healthy and preparing to pass on life. For that Enever expresses, “I’m so proud.”

There’s no mistaking this is Enever’s journey, but Dan is a main character, too. During her first year of grief, each chapter is labeled by the days since the accident. In contrast, when we experience Dan’s life, the chapter headings highlight the people, places, and events they experienced together. It’s these past chapters where Dan’s voice brings comic relief and comfort. In this way, the novel’s structure allows the reader to dwell in the darkest moments before being pulled into the bright joy of Dan’s childhood. Through the memoir’s braided narrative, we gain an understanding of his character—how curious he was as a child, how he loved to drink milk even as a teen, his obsession with United (affectionately considered the wrong football team according to Enever), and how caring he was. “He put in the love, and it came back multiplied” and maybe that’s what we should take from this novel, a message of love, of memory, of hope.

Of how Dan’s light shines on.

Sun was a strong spirit, fierce and bright. Effortlessly, he drew attention to himself in a moment’s notice. It helped that Sun was tall, large, and handsome. Sun hunted, fished, and prepared the skin and meat with ease. The power Sun held brought Mars, Venus, and the rest of the village to him.

No matter where Sun went or what Sun did, the village watched him. He felt eyes on his broad back as he walked the dirt path to his hut. Sun didn’t abhor the attention. It was a pleasure to be depended upon and seen as a figurehead.

What wasn’t a pleasure was to be ignored.

Out of one hundred and sixty villagers, there was only one who never dared to look at Sun. Moon, the sickly sibling of the wonderful Earth. They were a pale imitation of their sister. Their lank hair was plaited into twin braids that flew behind them as they ran across the fields after Earth. Sun would watch the siblings from his hut and observe. Moon would stain their white clothes and whiter skin with the reddish-brown of clay and the green of grass. Sun would see Earth forced to spend the late evening hours washing the linens until they were clean from stains.

It angered Sun to see hardworking Earth break her back for the ungrateful Moon. Earth had no children of her own, yet she toiled over every chore the village had. She joined the men in the fields, the women in the animal pens, and the village in the kitchens. She sewed clothes for the children and repaired any holes they had made. Moon only added to the never-ending list of chores.

Sun had had enough. The fires crackled and the villagers chatted, but Moon still did nothing. He stood from his seat and set his hands on his hips. Moon, he called out, come and help me fetch fresh wood for the fires. Moon startled, staring at him. Earth murmured something and Moon reluctantly stood. Eyes downcast, they weaved their way over to Sun and halted steps away from him.

Come along, Sun ordered. He turned and walked to the edge of the woods. Moon’s awkward footsteps followed him. The woods were dark and still. Perfect for Sun to express his anger towards the useless Moon. He turned to Moon, grabbed their wrists, and yanked the wretch forward to crash to the ground. Sun pinned them and wrapped a hand around Moon’s throat. Squeezed as Moon kicked and scratched weakly. No sounds came from their throat as Sun crushed it. He strangled with a sick glee as Moon’s pale face turned red, then purple, then returned to a pale shade once more. Finally, Moon’s body was still. Lifeless. Sun released his grip and stood. Dusted himself clean.

It was done.

Ainsley Louie-Suntjens

House of the Dragon

I feel like I am the very last person to arrive at the party for this one, but I spent the better part of my summer blitzing through House of the Dragon. I resisted for so long— first, everyone and their mother was begging me to watch it and I refuse to cave to peer pressure, and second, the Negroni Sbagliato meme inundating my twitter feed annoyed me— but I gave in and pretended it was my own idea to save myself the embarrassment.  

I am sorry to announce that yes, it was as good as everyone said that it would be. I specifically need to highlight the two leading actors: Olivia Cooke and Emma D’Arcy positively disappear into their roles. The supporting cast is excellent, but the amount of electricity between these two could probably power a small homestead. I didn’t forget about Milly Alcock and Emily Carey either— the first four episodes are probably my favorite of all. The writing (of the first season at least) is fascinating, and it also fixed a lot of the writing problems of Game of Thrones, particularly the misogynistic ones— it makes me happy when writers take feedback. I will admit that the tail end of season two peters out a little bit and I know George R. R. Martin was really up in arms with how it was adapted, but to be honest, it is such compelling television that I don’t even really mind. George, this is for me, not you. 

Erxi Lu

Notes of a Crocodile

I discovered the existence of Notes of a Crocodile on Booktok of all places, but this novel transcends the formula that Booktok books tend to follow. Notes of a Crocodile is an almost painfully honest depiction of queer college students in 1980s Taiwan. The characters continually hurt each other, provide reprieve, and in the middle of consoling one another, seem to once again wound everyone around them. In complete honesty, I was unsure of how I felt about the book in the beginning. The main character is difficult to root for and the characters seem to love to dig themselves deeper into holes rather than out of them. And yet, all of a sudden, on page 99, I realized this book was beautiful. As much as I didn’t have the cultural framework to understand all the nuances in this novel, it became clear to me that this novel is also about the difficulty of growing up, the existence within the liminal space in-between childhood and adulthood, and the disorientation that comes from being pushed into a freedom that is not quite free. The novel is perfectly human, perfectly young, and perfectly broken.  

Lydia Layton

Adventure Time

It’s a cartoon classic for a reason. No matter the time of year, I always come back to Adventure Time; iconic, colorful characters, sapphic representation, and delightfully absurd storylines to brighten any day. Some of my favorite episodes include Astral Plane, Simon and Marcy, Jake the Brick, and BMO Noire.  

Skyler Boudreau

Even Though I Knew the End

I am always on the hunt for strange, fantastical books with great LGBTQ+ representation, and C. L. Polk’s award-winning novella Even Though I Knew the End fits into all those categories. I stumbled across this book accidentally and subsequently devoured it in a single afternoon. In less than 150 pages, Polk ripped my heart out of my chest and then stapled it back in place with one of the most bittersweet endings I have read in a long, long time.

Readers meet Helen, a magical detective operating in 1940s Chicago, three days before she is meant to die and burn in Hell for eternity—it’s the price she must pay for an old bargain with a demon made before the start of the story: her soul, to be collected in ten years’ time, for her brother’s life. While she’s not exactly at peace with her fate, it’s something Helen has accepted. However, in the days leading up to her death, Helen is offered a dangerous final job. Should she complete this job, she will be rewarded with the return of her soul and the chance of a long life with Edith, her loving partner. Helen’s chance of completing the job is slim, but it’s not an opportunity she can pass up.

Between an intriguing new magic system and one of the most well-written sapphic romances I’ve ever read, Even Though I Knew the End grabbed my attention the moment I picked it up and hasn’t let go since.

Parker McCullough

Challengers

Since its April release date, I’ve seen Challengers three times. It. Is. Just. That. Good. How can I describe director Luca Guadagnino’s masterpiece? Firstly, I must warn you that even though there is a racket in almost every scene, this is not a movie about tennis. Challengers is about the queer love triangle between Tashi, Art, and Patrick. As the film unfolds, you see each character’s flaws and what they sacrifice to get what they want. Patrick loves Art, Art loves Tashi, and Tashi loves tennis. The stakes are dramatically high throughout the film, only to passionately climax at the very end.

Something that has always amazed me about queer cinema is that there is effort in the details. There is a scene where the competition scheduler is eating a breakfast bagel from Dunkin’, and you can see the lipstick stain on her coffee cup as she shares half her breakfast with Patrick. Intimacy is placed in every scene that warrants a second and third watch.

The cinematography paired with the techno house-worthy score emerges in moments of action, giving you an electric feel, like when you’re about to step onto the dance floor. I have been playing the mixed version of the soundtrack all summer and will probably keep it in my rotation…forever. If you haven’t already, give the film a go! Challengers affirmed a knowing of my identity as a queer individual, but even if you’re not queer, who doesn’t love tennis?

Dominic Loise

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

I have been looking forward to the sequel of Tim Burton’s original horror comedy Beetlejuice (1988) ever since I heard Seth Grahame-Smith was connected to the project. Grahame-Smith has a keen eye needed in balancing horror mashups as seen in his books Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. So, I was interested in him teaming with a visually-distinguished director like Tim Burton, and how the two creators would honor and build upon the original movie. 

The major theme of Beetlejuice Beetlejuice can be seen in the original cast members not brought back for the sequel. The main ghosts couple Adam and Barbara Maitland (Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis), who learn to share their home with the living in the first film, are not in the sequel because they’ve moved on. The theme of moving on is a through line in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice as characters deal with the grief of the both past and recently departed in their lives. Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder), the teenager who could see ghosts and befriended the Maitlands, now has a teenage daughter (Jenna Ortega) of her own. The two have been estranged since Lydia divorced her husband, after which he soon died. The film also deals with the casting conflict of bringing back cancelled actor, Jeffrey Jones (Charles Deetz), by reuniting the remaining Deetz for the patriarch’s funeral. 

There wouldn’t be a Beetlejuice sequel without Michael Keaton reprising his role as title character, Betelgeuse. Keaton was so associated with the character that most people forget he was only in the original movie for under twenty minutes. Since then, there has been a Beetlejuice animated series and Broadway musical, which all spawned from Kenton’s original performance as “The Ghost with the Most.” In the sequel, Betelgeuse has not moved on from the first film and his love for Lydia Deetz. He has been haunting her in her nightmares and, as her real life toxic relationship gets more serious, he starts bleeding into the waking world. 

Characters being empowered to move on from toxic relationships and draw closer bonds to those who have provided safe spaces of healing is why I’m recommending Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. The living characters learn to exorcize the harmful relationships they’re in with manipulative people. Even the trickster Betelgeuse is on the run in the afterlife from his ex-wife, a soul-sucking ghost. 

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice hits all the looks and sounds of the first film while adding depth to its characters. I mention sound because not only is Danny Elfman’s score present like in the original film, but the creators worked in the famous Day-O score. And just when the moviegoer thinks there won’t be another ghost possession/lip-sync scene, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice pulls out all the stops with a song that ties the theme of loss and moving on together. 

If you’ve ever met one of our wonderful F(r)iction staffers, you’ll quickly learn that almost every one of them was once an intern in our Publishing Internship Program.

This program is run by our parent nonprofit organization, Brink Literacy Project. While our publishing internships are a great way to get a crash course in the literary industry, they can often provide a path to what can become a long and rewarding professional relationship. For more information, please visit the internship page on the Brink website.

Ainsley Louie-Suntjens

she/her

Where is your favorite place to read? 

My favorite place to read is cozy in bed, in my room, with ambient lighting and lots of pillows and blankets. It’s even better if it is raining or snowing outside. A close second is on the beach in the sun. 

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead? 

After a little bit of anxious waffling, I would open it because I would regret it if I didn’t. Behind the door, I hope to find Wonderland, complete with talking cards and chess pieces and mad tea parties, but knowing my luck, I would find the Other Mother. Not that I’m complaining. That would be really cool in its own way. 

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual. 

I take my coffee double-double: two milks, two sugars. If I’m feeling fancy, I’ll add some chocolate or caramel syrup. 

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language? 

I think my favorite English words are “banshee” and “gossamer.” They’re really fun to say aloud and they are striking on the page. The way they sound remind me of an adagio on strings, and that sort of reminds me of ballet. I think they are also beautifully descriptive and create a whole compelling image in your head the minute you read them.  

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why? 

This is cruel question, but if I had to my one album is Preacher’s Daughter by Ethel Cain and my one book is The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Preacher’s Daughter poignantly and rendingly explores the horror and triumph of womanhood, love, devotion, and rage, and I think to some extent, The Bell Jar does too. I could listen to these songs and read this one book over and over, and still get something new out of it every time. 

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be? 

I would create more properly paying entry level jobs. On a fiscal level, it isn’t the most realistic of ideas, but it is so difficult to get into publishing if you are working-class. So many people have such a hard time getting into the industry just by virtue of the fact most entry-level positions are unpaid volunteer jobs, and it is hard to justify doing such work if you don’t already come from some degree of financial privilege, or at least stability. In turn, it can shut out the people who need to be heard most urgently in this industry. It is a self-perpetuating cycle that I would like to break. 

Erxi Lu

she/her

Where is your favorite place to read? 

I love reading in the quiet. In a more physical sense, I enjoy reading on my blue bean bag and feeling myself sink into both the ground and the words on the page.  
 
You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead?   
At first, I would hesitate. What if the door leads to a dangerous path? Unbeknownst to me, my index finger would push the door open, and I would see a beautiful winding staircase with bookshelves lining walls that seem to extend forever above and below me. The staircase makes the universe feel unfathomably large, yet also comfortably small.  

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual.   

No coffee! My favorite and most frequently consumed beverage is cold water from a refrigerated Brita pitcher peppered with ice cubes. I love chomping on ice!   

 
What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language?   

My favorite words in English are the ones that sound juicy, like bursting, slurp, and crunchy. There are just some words in English that are incredibly fun to say. I’m not sure if I have a favorite word in Chinese, but recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about words that are difficult to translate into English. For now, it is 心疼. 
 
You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why?   
The album I would bring is 平凡的一天 by 毛不易. In English, the album is  An Ordinary Day, but also known as a Perfect Day in English. 毛不易’s voice is calming, as he equates normality with perfection and beauty. I think his calming voice would make the deserted island feel a little less deserted and lonely. I would bring  Imagine a Death by Janice Lee as my book. It’s a book I recently discovered last year and has the experimental writing style that I find to be delicious! 

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be?  

I wish there was a larger focus on experimental writing and playing with language, rather than “selling.” 

Lydia Layton

she/her

What is your favorite place to read?  

At the beach on a hot day, having just swam in the sea. Fresh air, and fresh perspectives—just right. 

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead?    

I’d open it to find a vast, undiscovered planet of beauty and adventure. And the keys to a truck that’ll drive me anywhere I want to go while I’m there! 

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual.    

A cappuccino in the morning (even better with a croissant), and a macchiato for afternoons; always taken with one sugar or less.  

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language?   

Synaesthesia. It has multiple satisfying repetitive sounds and describes a fascinating human phenomenon too.  

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why?   

Pink Moon by Nick Drake would be the soundtrack to my island isolation. I hope, eventually, I could fashion a guitar from a tree and learn to play the tunes myself. A new hobby, and some great music to enjoy, all-in-one. 

And a book —The Picture of Dorian Gray —a strange, spooky classic. 

 
If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be?  

I would challenge the assumption that the “average consumer” is most often not interested in abstract or complex ideas within literature. In many cases, individuals are interested in learning but disadvantaged by their lack of educational opportunity. When narratives are written with accessible communication in mind, simple stories can be infused with big ideas and inspire intellectual and creative progress among people that otherwise wouldn’t have been exposed to them. 

Parker McCullough

he/him

Where is your favorite place to read? 

I like to read in the comfort of my bed after a hot shower with fresh, clean sheets. I tend to read right before bed, which is ideal for me. It helps me relax and regulate myself. 

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead?  

Honestly, I don’t think I would be in this situation. I’m not the type to hike up a winding mountain path. I prefer flat land and being securely placed on the ground at all times. Additionally, if I WERE to be in said situation, I probably wouldn’t open the door. What if there was an ancient wizard prepared to task me with my life’s greatest, most dangerous mission? I’d rather pass. The less I know, the better. Onward. 

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual.  

What was it that Hozier said about taking his whiskey neat and his coffee black? Not to brag about being dark and mysterious (it’s my Scorpio rising), but I have to agree with that line. I’m a no-frills type of guy. 

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language?   

I’ve never actually thought about this! I would have to say my favorite English word would be “queer.” It encapsulates so much but is simultaneously so vague. It’s like when you hear the word regarding identity, you can easily picture something or someone eccentric, out of the norm, unexpected, but you can’t quite put your finger on what exactly it is. I love the room for nuance and indefiniteness the word invites. It creates space for interpretation, because to me as a nonbinary person, nothing is ever black and white, one thing or the other. My favorite word in another language is “muyè.” It is Haitian for “mother.” I first heard the word while mixing a song called “Muyè” by Keinemusik. I urge you to play the song and go where I went while listening. 

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why?  

The one book I would have would be the Holy Bible. I tend to read it when I feel lost or uncertain and being on a deserted island might guarantee those emotions. The one album I would have would be Blonde by Frank Ocean. That album is 100% playback-worthy and helped me come into my queerness. 

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be?  

I would seriously change the literary industry to be more inclusive to BIPOC, queer/trans, and low-income individuals. We need to level the playing field. White, privileged, able-bodies tend to get priority and access to these amazing opportunities. Many minorities, including myself, are not privileged enough to drop everything and move to New York with my parent’s trust fund in hopes of landing that dream internship that is unpaid. I grew up in the south side of Dallas, Texas. Statistically speaking, I was never meant to break away from the generational trauma of my family and bloodline, escape to Chicago, graduate with my MA in Humanities from the University of Chicago, and begin my dream internship. I am structurally meant to fail. However, I overcame the systematic struggle to get to this point, and I did it all on my own, without much financial support from my family or society. I have come to believe that I am some sort of anomaly, the exception to the rule, much like very few others. This is why I care so much about giving back to the communities I come from. It’s a shame that the literary industry is not more inclusive in giving opportunities to underprivileged/QT black and brown voices because we have so much to offer, so much to give. It is truly a well of untapped talent and skill with a valuable, unique perspective on literature and writing. All it takes is for someone to give us a chance. 

Skyler Boudreau

she/her

What is your favorite place to read? 

My favorite place to read is in my bed next to my window curled up under a blanket. If it is raining outside, that’s even better. 

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead? 

If I found a door in the side of a mountain, I would have to open it because I would spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been behind it. Hopefully, the door will lead me to the ancient, magical library in Erin Morgenstern’s novel The Starless Sea, and not into the lair of a disgruntled dragon. 

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual. 

One of my favorite beverages is lemonade, specifically the lemonade made by The Teatotaller, the best café in New Hampshire. I love spending summer afternoons drinking their berry-flavored lemonade and playing board games with my friends at our favorite table. 

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language? 

My favorite English word is “discombobulated,” because it concludes some of my favorite sounds in the English language. My favorite French word is trente-et-un. It means thirty-one. I love the way it rolls off the tongue! 

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why? 

If I were stranded on a desert island with one album and one book, I would have to choose Hozier’s Unreal Unearth album and When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill. All of Hozier’s albums are excellent, but Unreal Unearth is especially dear to me because I am fascinated by the way each song on the album comes together to paint an overarching story. When Women Were Dragons is a beautiful, but rage-inducing novel that reveals a new theme each time I read it. Between When Women Were Dragons and Unreal Unearth, I think I will be kept entertained for a while! 

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be? 

I think the literary industry has made several positive strides over the past few decades. However, there is still a long way to go. If I could change one thing about it, I would make the literary industry more representative of its audience. There are a lot of important stories that still need a chance to be told. 

Ari Iscariot

Pentiment

Recently, I finished Pentiment, a narrative role-playing game set in medieval Europe. I didn’t expect this game to move me the way it did, this little murder mystery whose 2D art is stylized like an illuminated manuscript, whose simple premise obscures a work of great beauty and complexity. There are many things you can praise Pentiment for: its dedication to accurately and sympathetically portraying medieval life, its thoughtful and detailed storytelling, its atmosphere of community and warmth, and its enthusiasm for its settings and characters. But the most pertinent thing to compliment Pentiment for is its love.

We begin the game as Andreas Maler, a passionate, driven journeyman artist from the 1500s, working in a monastery scriptorium and completing his masterpiece before he returns to Nuremberg to start his career. During his time in Tassing, he stays with a peasant family and grows close to the people of the town, as well as the brothers and sisters of Kiersau Abbey. But disaster soon strikes when a rich patron of the Abbey is murdered on its premises.

The killer is in the town, and so Andreas’s suspects are the very people he is becoming close to: the peasants he shares meals with, the monks he works with, the friends who tell him of their troubles and joys. It becomes clear that Andreas won’t have enough time to talk to every suspect, to hunt down every clue, or to determine guilt without a doubt. You must present your evidence with uncertainty. And it’s with a sinking feeling that you realize—there may be no guilty party to find at all. But you must choose, and choose you do, while the town pays the price.

In Act 2, Andreas returns to the town seven years later. You witness the effects of your choice, see how the town has grown without you, how your friends have changed. Andreas is haunted by his decisions and by his own personal grief. The loving, enthusiastic artist of the early game is gone. “I have lost my love,” he tells us. “My love for art. My love for family. My love for anything.” As a creator going through a depressive episode when I played this game, this line ripped me open. Grief, melancholia, the death of imagination—who of us that makes art has not experienced it? The destabilization of self that comes with loss of creation. The aimlessness, the mourning, the rage. The emptiness.

I cannot tell you the fate of Andreas without spoiling the game. But I can tell you to have faith. This is the sort of story that leads you to yourself again. That unlocks the labyrinthine reluctance and fear keeping you from your love. This is the sort of story where you and your beliefs are rewritten, the sort of story that puts hope in your soul again. That makes you think yes, even after everything, the craft is worth it. The world. The people in it. Love. After all, love is the only reason to do anything in this life, and Pentiment is proof of the kind of magic love can create.

Kaitlin Lounbserry

Strange Darling

With the autumnal months swiftly approaching, there’s been a noticeable influx of horror movies dropping in theaters. To kickstart a month of slashers and possessions and the resurgence of extraterrestrials and ghosties with narcissism, J.T. Mollner’s Strange Darling washes its viewers in a cherry-tinted world of aesthetic violence. 

There’s lots to note about Strange Darling that’s kept me captivated days after leaving the theater, but most noticeable was its cinematography. Shot entirely on 35 mm film (courtesy of Giovanni Ribisi’s debut as cinematographer), viewers are thrusted into a world richly saturated in hues of red. It’s a cinematic choice that will end up as a massive print on someone’s wall in time (frankly, my wall is eager). If it was to be presented as a drink, it’d be sugary sweet with an unexpecting kick at the very end that keeps you sipping. It’s just *right* to compliment the hazy plot lines and the first thing I think to mention about the film.

Speaking of plot, there isn’t really much I can comment on it without giving anything away. Told in six chapters in a fractured narrative format, Strange Darling presents its many twists and turns to challenge its viewer and subvert stereotypes of what we’ve come to anticipate from the horror genre, specifically horror that utilizes the final girl trope. It might not reinvent the wheel, but it’s clear Mollner has done his research to understand how to tell a good story, with a hefty dose of murder. Of the many horror movies released this calendar year (I’ve seen most of them, if not all), this is by far my favorite.

Nate Ragolia

Chef Reactions

There’s no lack of cooking videos on the internet. Pretty much anywhere you look, some amateur chef or kitchen cowboy is offering a new hack for how to make mashed potatoes out of Pringles, build a big salad in a giant glass goblet, or churn out some hand-mixed casserole they claim to have learned about on a vacation to Texas.

Enter Chef Reactions, a YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok-based internet personality who watches those wild (and sometimes absolutely revelatory) videos while offering delightfully wry, monotone commentary. I’ve been lucky that the algorithm gods are supplying all of my feeds with his stupendous content, and watching a few Chef Reactions each night to wind down has been a true joy. These videos are great because they are short and sweet, funny, and even occasionally point me toward something (that gets a positive reaction) that I might want to try cooking myself! After all, every recipe is a story, and every meal is an adventure unto itself.

C.E. Janecek

The Vision of Escaflowne

Searching for a way to watch the 1996 worldwide anime hit, The Vision of Escaflowne, felt like a foreboding lesson on our reliance on digital media. It was unavailable on every streaming platform. I had found out about it the old-fashioned way: as a preview on a library-loaned DVD of Code Geass, season one. Luckily, The Vision of Escaflowne was available at my local library on both DVDs and Blu-rays, but after watching it, I was even more fearful that one day it would disappear from the internet’s collective memory all together.

A mix of fantasy, science fiction, and a whole lot of heart—The Vision of Escaflowne’s 26-episode story boasts well-rounded characters, ambitious lore, and a heart-wrenching soundtrack. On a planet torn by war and lofty ideologies, four protagonists carry the heavy mantles of the ancestors, even if they don’t know it yet. Like many cult animes of the 1990s, Escaflowne’s themes largely circle around the loss of innocence and the question of free will, which remains deliciously in the air throughout.

One of the most fascinating aspects of the anime is how much of it changed before production. Escaflowne’s Wikipedia page is a treasure trove of history, but one of my favorite tidbits is that much of Escaflowne’s story and aesthetic exists because the original director was bought out by Gundam and newcomer Kazuki Akane transformed the protagonist into her iconic, tomboy look and made all of the male characters into “beautiful boys” to broaden audience appeal. And are those boys beautiful. The romantic subplots are tinged through the innocent eyes of main character, Hitomi, changing organically (and devastatingly) as the world around them falls to war and she has to find other ways to cling on to hope.

Ari Iscariot

Only God Forgives

It is exhilarating, from time to time, to come upon a film that has been left raw and bloody, uncooked for consumption by a mass audience. Traditionally, movies say: “I am a story, and this is how I will tell myself.” But Only God Forgives does not offer you this comforting hand. There is no guide to orient you as you plunge into the neon-bright, ultra-violent nightmare director Nicolas Winding Refn has created. This is not meant to be a familiar narrative, traveling the tried and true paths of the three-act structure or the hero’s journey. It is a gut-wrenching, visceral experience, all the more poignant because it does not make itself palatable. It seems to say, observe or don’t, the trainwreck will happen with or without you as witness. 

Every aspect of this film lends itself to experiencing, to immersing into the Freudian fever dream, the garish, Greek tragedy set in the humming streets of Thailand. Voices murmur and cackle, traffic rushes with reedy wind, night insects anxiously drone. The soundtrack thrums somewhere behind your bones, industrial and electric. The lighting and colors synchronously flash, flawlessly painted by the hand of their colorblind director, showing a reality where everything is exit-sign red, caution-bulb orange, suicidal blue. The dialogue is sparse, sharp, delivered like a blade through the back. Ryan Gosling’s character, the tortured Julian Thompson, speaks but seventeen lines. But he doesn’t need to waste breath to tell what is being shown.

Julian’s ending is a foregone conclusion, as is every other character’s, as foretold in the title. Julian’s mad brother cannot be forgiven, nor can his Jocastian mother. Neither can Julian forgive himself: his warped desires, his blood-stained palms. He certainly won’t be forgiven by the film’s main “antagonist,” the vigilante cop Chang, who is the epitome of “Justice is blind.” He metes out punishment without considering circumstance, drunk on power and revenge. Only God could forgive someone like Julian, and his twisted, pathetic descent towards this realization will make you feel emotions and longing better left unspoken—and only experienced.

Dominic Loise

Will Trent

We are always looking for a good mystery series in our household. Something that is both a challenge to solve before the final reveal and has an engaging yet unique detective. Our benchmark binging has been David Suchet as Hercule Poirot, Tony Shalhoub as Adrian Monk, and Peter Falk as Lieutenant Columbo. Currently, we are watching Will Trent and this mystery drama is quickly becoming our new favorite series.

Soon to drop a third season this fall, Will Trent is based on the book series by Karin Slaughter. The main character is a special agent for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and like Piorot, Monk, and Colombo, he sees things outside the box from other members of law enforcement and is an outsider from those he works with daily. Unlike Columbo, Trent (Ramón Rodríguez) is sharply dressed in his three-piece suits like Poirot and his home is organized like Monk. The reason for his outward appearance and organizational systems are to mask his dyslexia from the outside world, for fear that others will judge him incapable to do his job.

Trust is a major theme in Will Trent. The two main characters, Trent and homicide Detective Angie Polaski (Erika Christensen), grew up together in the foster care system. Both have scars from their childhood and in Trent’s case, his scars are physically noticeable. The two work to protect others from cracks in the system that failed them as children. The series also explores Trent and Polaski sharing their past with their work partners and how it affects their decision making. Soon, guarded walls are let down for them to share openly with others. As the series goes on, Trent’s compartmentalized life of solitude and security opens up for him share with others and create his own definition of family.

Nate Ragolia

Jaws

We’re in the dog days of summer, or maybe the dogfish days… and for me that means revisiting the QUINTessential summer film classic, Jaws. It was released in 1975, from director Stephen Spielberg, and based on the book by Peter Benchley. It is famous for being the first movie filmed on the ocean, for having a broken mechanical shark named Bruce (whose malfunctions required/enabled incredible dramatic tension), and for being, perhaps, the first blockbuster.

If you are somehow unfamiliar, Jaws is about the fictional, small New England beach community of Amity Island besieged—in peak tourist season—by a massive, man-eating Great White Shark. Newly transplanted police chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider) must contend with the shark and the town’s mayor’s reluctance to close the beach, and eventually enlists a marine biologist (Richard Dreyfuss) and a salty shark hunter (Robert Shaw).

While you’ve almost all certainly already seen this movie, I encourage you to watch it again for two reasons: 1. It is one of the most compelling demonstrations of three-act storytelling available, and 2. The complex relationships between all the characters, their motivations, and their depth of development is second to none. Plus, if you’re anything like me, you’ll get something new out of each viewing. I was lucky enough to catch it in the theater for a special screening earlier this month, but Jaws is great anywhere… except maybe in the water…

Ari Iscariot

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

When going to see a George Miller action film, you might be expecting flawlessly executed fight scenes, stunning scenic shots, and colors so bright they feel edible. Miller’s Mad Max films are a beautiful and brutal visual experience, a reprieve in a cinemascape inundated with darkness and flat, unimaginative lighting. They are known for their visual worldbuilding, their to-the-point, poignant plots, and their absolutely break-neck pace. But perhaps what you aren’t expecting from Miller’s vicious, post-apocalyptic wasteland is a message of hope, and the gentle, spring green love that helps it to bloom.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is, at its core, a character-centered story. Slower than its predecessor, it is no less gruesome or exhilarating, but its darkness is deeper, sadder: the grief of an orphaned girl separated from her home, and subjected to the whims of madmen. Furiosa, in her suffering, has every right to be as ugly and as cruel as the world that raises her, but time and time again, we watch her choose a kinder path. Choose to trust. Choose to offer salvation, and to become the woman we know from Mad Max: Fury Road. This is no more obvious than in the relationship she shares with Praetorian Jack, the legendary driver of the War Rig, and Furiosa’s best hope to find her way home.

This movie doesn’t contain an excess of dialogue, in fact, the only one who speaks incessantly is Dr. Dementus: the hateful, hilarious, and begrudgingly pitiful antagonist of young Furiosa. But what the movie doesn’t say with words, it shows with deeds. In the midst of the ravages of the desert and beneath the dirty greed of men, Furiosa and Jack grow something as precious as the bountiful abundance of her home. Through their trust, their intimacy, and their hope to escape together, they defy a universe that expects them to be apathetic, selfish, ignoble. Through her, Jack is redeemed. Through him, Furiosa holds tight to her humanity. This connection is not physical, as far as the audience sees. They share a single moment of closeness, foreheads knocking, lips murmuring “My Fury,” “My Jack.” But there is no need for declarations, passionate kisses, or overblown displays of sexual prowess. There is only Miller’s brilliant ability to render a message of self-sacrifice in the midst of gunfire and explosions. There is only Jack and Furiosa, choosing each other over safety, freedom, and escape. There is only hope in every action they take, which reaffirms their love in the wasteland. You are my green place.

“In the process, we find them, relinquishing their own self interest, one for the other. What follows is, through their actions, not their words, their promises to each other, but through their actions, that they actually are prepared to give themselves entirely to the other. So in a way, it’s kinda a love story, in the middle of an action scene.”

—George Miller, ‘Furiosa’ | “Anatomy of a Scene”

Dominic Loise

A Fox in My Brain

The cover of A Fox in My Brain (FairSquare) say it is written, drawn, and experienced by Lou Lubie. The experienced part is why I connected with this graphic memoir about Lubie’s discovery and daily living with cyclothymia, which is a mood disorder from the bipolar family. “Bipolar disorder takes various forms, and cyclothymia, extensively addressed in A Fox in My Brain, is still quite unknown, suffering practically from a harmful delay in diagnosis,” as stated in the graphic novel’s post face by psychologist Isabelle Leygnac-Solignac.

It is Lubie’s perseverance through misdiagnosis that I related to in addition to how accurately she conveys mood swings, depression, and processing a relationship with another person. A Fox in My Brain is a graphic novel that I would hand to my partner, my family, and my friends to inform them of the experience of being misdiagnosed for your mental health and to share how someone with cyclothymia, bipolar 1, or bipolar 2 feels with a stigma society has created around the disorder.

Lou Lubie’s has a wonderful fluid art style, which works for the fox that represents Lubie’s cyclothymia. Her depression is as represented as a wolf, which comes out of the shadows as it lurks and growls when Lubie feels the disparity associated with depression. A Fox in My Brain is a truthful story about one person’s mental health awareness, which I honestly connected with. 

Kaitlin Lounsberry

Remembering Gene Wilder

Growing up, I didn’t quite realize how much of a powerhouse Gene Wilder was in the film industry. I knew he was funny, I knew he was in all the movies I watched with my dad, but I didn’t realize just how special and influential he was until I was much older. Remembering Gene Wilder, a tribute documentary released in early 2024, features countless behind-the scene clips and interviews with those who knew Wilder most intimately. Though the documentary doesn’t follow the traditional, linear storytelling we’ve come to anticipate for films of this nature, it somehow makes sense for Wilder’s story to be told in such a manner. Most of Wilder’s creative genius is presented through the outrageous storytelling of Mel Brooks, but most special, is the inclusion of the narration of the now-deceased Wilder, providing an look into his world that only he could provide. We’re given insight into the creation of Young Frankenstein (my favorite film of his), Wilder’s transition into acting-direction, and bits and pieces of his personal life that make you feel further enamored with the powerhouse.

As a life-long Wilder fan, Remembering Gene Wilder captured much more than Wilder’s Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and Mel Brooks fame. It showcased Wilder’s tenacity as a writer, his unique thought process while acting-directing, and his consistent desire to uplift and support up-and-coming actors in the industry. This documentary highlighted just how much of a powerhouse Wilder was and frankly continues to be years after his death in 2016.

You and artist Adrián Gutiérrez worked on last year’s Blue Beetle: Graduation Day miniseries, expanding on the mythos of the blue alien scarab (Khaji Da) that gives Jaime Reyes his powers and brings the intergalactic threat of the Reach back to Earth. How does the miniseries tie into the Scarab War?  

You can start with Blue Beetle #1 without reading Graduation Day. Issue #1 of the ongoing series is our pilot. We introduce an offshoot of the Reach, known as the Horizon. They have their own agenda. We are also introducing Starfire as a mentor to Blue Beetle and Jaime to a whole new city (Palermo City), giving him his own Metropolis as I like to say.  

A whole bunch of fresh new characters and old favorites like Paco and Brenda are along for the ride too. All this is to say, I am putting pieces in place to knock them down in our big Scarab War arc.

Graduation Day also shows the different mentor styles of Ted Kord (the second Blue Beetle) and Starfire who are “guides from the sides” and Batman up against Superman who take a “Sage from Stage” approach with Jaime. Can you talk about how Ted and Starfire trust Jaime when the Justice League wants to ground him when the Reach returns to Earth? 

Even back when Jaime was first introduced in the 2000’s Infinite Crisis, he has always had a relationship with Batman and I think Batman cares for him as much as he does Robin. Batman knows Jaime has unique responsibilities and a unique destiny because of the scarab (Khaji Da) attached to his back. So, there is always a level of suspicion that comes from Batman inherently and I think that is different in how he looks at Jaime. 

Ted Kord is the Blue Beetle before Jaime. He is the second and Jaime is the third. So, Ted looks to Jaime very positively as the next generation, as a way to fulfill all his hope and all the potential Ted sees. Ted is very much like a hopeful Batman, I like to say, versus a more cynical one we see in the comics from time to time. 

Starfire is a window to his greater cosmic destiny. Starfire has been a warrior princess on Tamaran. She is very knowledgeable about alien races and alien history, and she’s someone Jaime can lean onto to help explore that side of him (the Khaji Da). So, they fill different roles, and in our Scarab War arc something happens to Ted that takes him off the board for a minute, and Jaime has to lean on Starfire a little harder than ever. I think it is interesting to see their contrasting mentor styles. 

We see Ted Kord standing with his arm around Jaime Reyes’ shoulder consoling him after a mistake, while Batman stands over someone making sure they don’t make the mistake again. How different are the Beetle and Bat families?

I think the Bat-Family and the Beetle-Family maybe aren’t all too different in some ways. It’s both this large community around a central hero and how they build him up, hold him accountable and give him something to fight for, but Jaime’s family is much more informal. It’s safe to say, they laugh a lot and have that Justice League International (JLI) heritage.  

Ted is a goofball-through and through, but Jaime’s story doesn’t begin with tragedy—it begins with a mystery. Batman comes from that seminal loss and seminal tragedy. So, I think there is more optimism and curiosity about the world around him for Jaime than maybe Bruce (Wayne) experiences. Jaime is our window to the DC Universe. He is very wide and bright eyed, where Batman has teamed up with everyone from Superman to Santa Claus. 

Who have your mentors been in your writing career? Did they have a “guide from the side” or a “sage from the stage” approach and did you find that helpful? 

I have been really lucky with some of the creators who have taken me under their wing over the years. A big one being my editor over at DC, Andrew Marino. He’s the editor on Graduation Day and our ongoing series. Andrew is a huge fan of Jaime Reyes. This (comic) was something Andrew had been advocating for for years and really saw me as the potential guy to write for that character. It took almost six years from when we started our conversation about Jaime to where we are now if you can believe it. So, it is about teaching me that patience. Comics can move very quickly, but they usually move very slowly and it can be a waiting game. Waiting for your opportunities or building your own opportunities in the meantime. So, he has been enormously helpful. 

I look to my peers. Levi Hastings is an illustrator I worked with on a book called Washington’s Gay General, that came out last year. He is a great sounding board for story. Josh Cornillon, my co-collaborator on Pool Boys, listens to my insecurities and woes and helps keep things in perspective. Like Jaime, I have a huge community of people I bother with text messages in the middle of the night. 

Ted Kord is put in a coma when the Blood Scarab attacks at the beginning of the new Blue Beetle series. Jaime is, again, without Ted’s guidance like when he first started as a hero. Ted made his own path without Dan Garrett, the original Blue Beetle, in his own origin story. Can we talk about how each Blue Beetle honors their predecessors but starts out in their own unique way? 

Dan Garrett is our original Blue Beetle. He found Khaji Da in a pharaoh’s tomb in the 1940s. As I see it, Dan acted as a mentor to Khaji Da, teaching the scarab humanity, heroism, and selflessness. This all comes to a head when Ted becomes the Blue Beetle after Dan’s death. Ted has this enormous responsibility, not just because he idolized Dan Garrett/Blue Beetle, but also Dan Garrett/the Professor/the Scientist because he was a student of Dan’s. There is a real passing of the torch moment born into that “How am I ever going to live up to that…The greatest hero of the time” mentality. 

Jaime has a similar situation because Ted was killed right before Jaime got the scarab. There is a sense of heavy responsibility and legacy that permeates through our book and the Blue Beetle chronology, and I wanted to do right by that. Our book is very new-reader friendly, but we have to acknowledge we’re building on the shoulders of giants. 

Since we are now talking about all three Blue Beetles, let’s talk about how the new adversary, the Blood Scarab, connects the three heroes? 

In Dan Garrett’s origin, he found Khaji Da in a pharaoh’s tomb and that pharaoh was awakened by the energy of a nuclear bomb. Kha-Ef-Re was his name and he was the first Blue Beetle villain. Dan was able to stop him in his origin and seal him away. We haven’t seen or heard from Kha-Ef-Re in continuity since. It has been over sixty years. Kha-Ef-Re has a bit of a grudge against Khaji Da because Dan is already dead. 

The Blood Scarab is a human host controlled by Kha-Ef-Re, who has now taken on a scarab form of his own. I wanted to create a through line from the original Blue Beetle villain to today and that goes straight through Ted. Ted isn’t an heir to the scarab in any way, but Kha-Ef-Re still saw Ted as a threat or potential obstacle in his path to claim Khaji Da. It’s a bit of the past, but a way to recontextualize this silly Golden Age story with nuclear bombs, evil dictators, and the type of fun we had in the Golden Age and Silver Age of comics. 

Beyond the blue alien scarab (Khaji Da) and the azure costumes, there’s another connection to the Blue Beetle legacy through comic book creator Keith Giffen, who we lost last year. How did the Blue Beetle #7 tribute to Keith Giffen come together?  

Losing Keith Giffen was a gut punch for me. I never had the chance to meet him personally, but his work was among my favorites at DC. Specifically, his JLI was a real window to enter the DC Universe and I loved the way he handled Ted and Booster (Gold) in particular, co-writing with J.M. DeMatteis and Kevin Maguire on art.  

We wanted to do something special for Keith immediately once we heard the news. For me, that meant going on a bit of a road trip through the DC Universe to see how large Keith’s influence was. That meant going to the JLI days, the far, far future of the DC Universe and everywhere in between and beyond. The issue is star studded as far as guest stars but also guest artists. We have Adrián Gutiérrez, our regular artist, Natacha Bustos, Howard Porter, Cully Hamner, Scott Kolins, and not to mention our incredible colorists Laura Martin and Luis Guerro and lettering Lucas Gattoni.  

It’s a real party to try and live up to Keith’s legacy and show new readers or readers who haven’t given him a second thought in a minute to reevaluate his work. I hope people will go into the back issues and see all the contributions he has made. 

Keith Giffen left an impact on the Blue Beetle characters fans connected to. Older fans connected with Ted Kord his quotable banter as a superhero talking like a real person. Can we discuss that and how your current Blue Beetle comic continues to communicate with fans through its organic dialogue and truthful portrayal of the Reyes family speaking Spanish when together? 

It was important for me to capture that Ted Kord voice from those JLI comics to a degree. He is Batman in some ways but also your loveable uncle or that guy who can’t seem to get it together. I wanted to capture the duality of being the smartest person in the room but maybe a little hapless here and there.

But capturing those voices and the language was essential for me to capture the authenticity of growing up in a bilingual household. DC was really welcoming to the idea of including untranslated Spanish in the English editions, and they, more importantly, released all Spanish editions for the book. This is a real way to attract new readers and to show DC’s commitment to expanding who gets to enjoy superhero comics. And that’s something I take very seriously, finding a way to keep these books accessible. If you don’t know Spanish, don’t worry. You can translate it with your phone camera or ask someone in your life. But you’re not missing any plot information. You are just missing a little bit of flavor and I wanted to stay true to what it would be like to live in that environment. 

We have a lot of characters who speak Spanish, but we also have characters who speak the Reach language or Tamaranean. It’s about showing diversity but not doing it in a way that anyone feels excluded. 

Last year, you and artist Levi Hastings released a historical biography graphic novel. Could you talk a bit about Washington’s Gay General, which is the story of Founding Father Baron von Steuben, and the history we aren’t taught in school? 

Baron von Steuben was a Prussian General, who fought in the Seven Years War. He was a prisoner of the Russians and was trained under Frederick the Great. He came to America to really save our butts in the American Revolution. He was a big confidant and mentor to George Washington, teaching the United States military how to be an army and go against the biggest military superpower in the world at that time, which was Britain.  

Beyond all that, Von Steuben was a little outlandish. He was a larger-than-life character and queer/gay. We try to look at his life through a queer lens for maybe the first time and examine the realities of living during that time. But we examined all the things we do not know.  

History is very much written by the victors and for most of human history to be publicly out was impossible. Many of these people destroyed their own belongings before they died or had family destroy evidence of their relationships. We only know about von Steuben because of his class and his fame. For every von Steuben, there are countless people we will never know about. We don’t have queer stories during the Revolutionary War below his level and I think that’s a real tragedy. It makes people misunderstand the queer identity. We have always been there, but for so long we have had to keep it hidden or didn’t have the language to understand it. 

Looking to the future, how do you see Jaime Reyes’ unique and greater cosmic destiny being played out with the book’s recent cancellation? What is next for Jaime, Khaji Da, and the Reach? 

I think the best is yet to come with Jaime! He’s a beloved and vital character to the DC Universe, and that will go on long after my Blue Beetle brothers and I finish our final issue. I hope to return to the character someday in some form, though, if not, I think we left him in a better place than when we found him. I think we made a satisfying, complete run over the past 11 issues (plus 6 from Graduation Day!) Hopefully this is the kind of book people will pick up and read for a long time to come. Right now, I’m celebrating what we accomplished, and I am eager to see what the future holds for our Blue Beetle.

Where can people find out more about you and your work online? 

You can find me on all social media at @losthiskeysman and I have a website: joshtrujillo.com. I am very reachable. Just come at me with your questions or thoughts. I love connecting with fans, especially about Blue Beetle and Baron von Steuben. Those are my heroes right now. 

Inanna Carter

Mass Effect Legendary Edition

Okay, I’m a little late to the party. I bought Mass Effect Legendary Edition sometime last year during a huge sale. It was practically free, and there were romance options. What more could a girl want? I started playing it a few weeks ago, and I regret not starting it sooner. Mass Effect explores a massive world in space, with an attention-grabbing main storyline and plenty of side quests to keep you on your toes. You play as Commander Shepard making decisions that will affect you, your squad, and maybe even the world. I’ve never been into science fiction, but I have to say this game is one of a kind.

While I’m only on the first of the trilogy, I’ve played enough to know this is a game I won’t be putting down any time soon. It’s been a while since I’ve started a game that made me think, “Wow, I have to see this to the end.” If you’re like me and you haven’t played this masterpiece yet, I highly recommend it.

And no, I’m not just saying that ‘cause I can date the pretty Turian.

Dominic Loise

DEADWEIGHTS

Tyrone Finch currently has a comic miniseries out from Ahoy Comics called DEADWEIGHTS, and the spirit he brings to friendship is the DNA of this book. DEADWEIGHTS is about two former supervillains finding their way after one is kicked off the team and the other decides to stand by their friend’s side. Finch writes about sticking by someone through hard times from a place of truth. This comic is not the manufactured bromance we usually see in comic book, but a friendship of heart backed up in the blood, sweat, and fears of the characters actions and the repercussions of those actions. 

These actions are smashingly portrayed by artist Sebastian Piriz. The artwork of Piriz also captures the tight, pulled-in moments as the characters wrestle internally and celebrate their support of one another. He is an artist I admire and recently have found myself checking out any project he is working on. 

The DEADWEIGHTS miniseries is coming out monthly from Ahoy Comics.

Kaitlin Lounsberry

The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess

Before anyone get’s mad at me, I have been a major Chappell Roan fan since she released “Pink Pony Club” as a single in 2020. So, when her debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, was initially released in September 2023, it was no surprise that I had it on repeat for weeks and weeks and weeks. I thought I’d eventually move onto another pop princess as new music was released and return to this album from time to time. But, as we move into warmer months and everything gets a fresh breath of life, the more Roan’s debut album cements itself as a constant in my musical rotation. I don’t just come back to The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, I’m comparing everything I hear to the album. And nothing satiates me in the same way.

Roan’s album features songs you can’t get out of your head, songs that compel you to grab a friend and sway with tears in your eyes under a disco ball, songs that you want to sing in a crowd of people covered in glitter, and much more. Quite plainly, there’s life injected into this album and Roan herself. It’s a feel I wish I could bottle and carry with me everywhere I go. Whatever magic is in this album, it’s something rare and incredibly authentic in today’s age of music and consumption. I’m eager to see how Roan’s career grows from this debut, which already feels larger than life. That’s all to say, if you’re on the hunt for an album of the summer…look no further!