I grew up watching numerous network TV shows over my mother’s shoulder — “Gilmore Girls,” “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Monk,” to name a few — which are now a thing of the past. Streaming services like Netflix, Hulu and HBO Max are gold mines of my old favorite shows, for better and for worse. They are modern time capsules, undug and perpetually in reach of audiences young and old. 

Like time capsules, streaming services are stocked with items that are products of their time; however, because these items (TV shows and movies) are readily available, we can forget that they’re from another era, another period — and this can cause problems. 

An article titled “Questionable Things We Ignored in Gilmore Girls” showcases this phenomenon — “Between romanticizing toxic relationships, glamorizing eating disorders, brushing over social critical issues, and failing to offer proper representation for multiple groups, ‘Gilmore Girls’ is both a product of its time — and way behind in many cases.” 

It’s the final phrase that interests me — calling “Gilmore Girls” “way behind” as if it were produced in the time the article was written. Streaming services provide us the opportunity to watch dated shows as if they are products of the present, which frequently does not play out well for shows viewers once adored. 

Few shows housed in streaming time capsules have aged well, but one that hasn’t disappointed me yet is “Psych.” 

“Psych” is a show that follows Shawn Spencer (James Roday Rodriguez, “A Million Little Things”) and Burton Guster (Dulé Hill, “The Wonder Years”) (Gus), two best friends who work together to solve crimes for the Santa Barbara Police Department. Shawn, the son of renowned cop Henry Spencer, has excellent detective capabilities and instincts due to his upbringing. It’s his predictive skills, though, that place him under suspicion at the police station, where he’s weighed in on numerous cases. He makes a quick decision that sets in motion the following eight seasons of the show and tells the police department he’s psychic. 

Immediately after confessing his “psychic powers,” Shawn makes his way to Gus’s office, telling him he’s got the gig they always dreamed about — solving murders (among other crimes). Gus, though initially not on board, proves himself necessary to the detective work, and the two later start their own detective agency: Psych.

Their friendship is how the show begins, and how it ends — and why, I think, it has held up all these years.

“Psych” is wholesome at its core because it’s founded on a tried and true friendship. Though it can be said (and should be said, to be completely honest) that Shawn isn’t the best friend a person could have — as it is pointed out many times throughout the series how Gus pays for his bills — the two men bring out the best in each other. Yes, they poke fun at each other, but they also break into hostage situations to save each other. They’re each other’s biggest fans and hardest critics. They’re each other’s strengths, and each other’s weaknesses. 

“Psych” manages to avoid common pitfalls of other shows — poor character development, problematic storylines, controversial language — by centering a dynamic rooted in love and goodwill. 

My favorite episode of the series is episode 11 of season seven, “Office Space,” which begins with Gus desperately knocking at Shawn’s door. He’s in need of Shawn’s help after he accidentally disrupts a crime scene, but when he brings Shawn there, Shawn, too, messes it up in typical “Psych” fashion. Their hilarious dynamic is put front and center as the events of the episode unfold, and it demonstrates their incomparable teamwork and commitment to each other.

I have “Psych” to thank for many of my personal friendships; it was through discovering a mutual love of the show that I made my first friends in high school and how I found some of my best friends at the University of Michigan. Anyone who can harmonize “Suck it!” or “Come on son” me to death is someone I know can trust, someone I know I can laugh with. 

Every time I rewatch “Psych,” I’m met with harmless humor and wholesome storylines, but perhaps most importantly, I’m reminded of the friends I’ve made and the memories we share because of how “Psych” brought us together. When I see Shawn and Gus split a beard as part of their disguise — literally — I remember the time my best friend in high school and I did the same for a school spirit day. When I laugh at Gus and his 11-point turns, I can hear my friends laughing at me as I warn them, “I need to pull a Gus.”  

Any art has the potential and power to bring people together. But art like “Psych” that showcases devotion and companionship goes further than that — it not only brings us together, but keeps us together. It stands the test of time, allowing friendships to blossom and people to bond for years to come. 

Shawn and Gus are far from perfect, but their on-screen friendship is as good as it gets. Here’s to my favorite duo and to my favorite show that I’ll binge-watch now and forever. 

Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu.

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“Quietly Hostile” follows Samantha Irby’s best-selling essay collections  “We Are Never Meeting in Real Life” and “Wow, No Thank You” — but does not live up to them.

Irby, known for her blog and her work as a writer, producer and/or co-host of television shows, including the “Sex and the City” reboot, “And Just Like That,” has proven that she wears many hats in the entertainment industry. She’s a 2021 recipient of the Lambda Literary Award, and is a two-time New York Times best-selling author. I was eager to get my hands on her recent release, but was left underwhelmed with her latest nonfiction work. 

“Quietly Hostile” contains a few notable essays, including The New Yorker-published piece “Please Invite Me To Your Party.” However, while the aforementioned essay succeeds in its succinct wit and self-deprecating humor, the others in the collection fail to reflect Irby’s typical goofy, structured pen. 

The second essay in the collection, “The Last Normal Day,” is a day in the life of Irby right at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Rather than reading as a cohesive inner monologue, the essay reads as a superfluous ramble full of unnecessary details and random tangents, peppered with a million or so question marks and exclamation points. The best parts of the essay — including the bullet point list of erratic purchases Irby struggled to pack up when she fled her Chicago apartment — were obscured by the jumbled thoughts recounted throughout it. I finished the essay unsure of how it started, only able to remember the random corn dog anecdote shared at the end. 

In general, the essays seem to lack substance. One essay, “David Matthews’s Greatest Romantic Hits” is 13 pages long and consists of long-winded spiels about the romantic merit of 14 Dave Matthews Band songs; another piece, “Two Old Nuns Having Amzing [Sic] Lesbian Sex” clocks in at 22 pages, all the while recounting a 39-minute porno Irby has permanently queued. While both of these essays would make for incredible PowerPoint party presentations, they quickly became repetitive and dull in the written form. 

It’s hard to pinpoint a central theme or consistent thread in “Quietly Hostile.” From twenty-plus pages on pornography to a two-page piece on whales, the collection was generating whiplash left and right. Though it is fitting to call the collection an “outrageously funny tour of all the gory details that make up the true portrait of a life,” it is also disappointing to navigate what felt like an unorganized mash-up of internal ramblings. 

That said, Irby is a writer who should be read and whose work should be uplifted. The essays that do work hit the nail right on the head (in terms of humor and pacing), and bring to mind Irby’s past nonfiction work. 

The highlight of “Quietly Hostile” is the essay “What If I Died Like Elvis,” a lively and comical account of the time Irby gave herself a severe allergic reaction while attempting to remove her gel manicure. What begins with a relatable statement on Irby’s issues with being perceived in her everyday life turns into a horror story as Irby suffers the consequences of removing a manicure she didn’t want in the first place. Irby showcases her comedic timing through her writing as she describes her conversation with the hotline nurse and her ridiculous thought process as she prepared to leave for the hospital (stopping to grab a lip balm) and highlights her storytelling abilities in this unforgettable piece. In spite of the other underwhelming essays, “What If I Died Like Elvis” made me want to read more. 

So, no, “Quietly Hostile” shouldn’t be your first Irby read, but it shouldn’t be your last, either. While the overall collection is underwhelming with regard to Irby’s past works, there are a few notable pieces that exhibit her comical and ever-relatable written prowess. Her talent lies in her ability to tell stories, which I hope to read more of in the future. 

Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu. 

The post Don’t let ‘Quietly Hostile’ be your introduction to Samantha Irby appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

“Wanting to be a writer was somehow loftier of an ambition than being a musician,” shared best-selling author Michelle Zauner on the last stop of her official book tour for “Crying in H Mart.”

In conversation with author Kiley Reid at the Literati Bookstore-sponsored event, Zauner — also known as the lead musician of Japanese Breakfast — discussed the process of writing her acclaimed memoir with a full house at the Michigan Theater on Sunday, April 23. 

“Crying in H Mart” began as an essay. After a year of receiving rejections, Zauner’s piece “Real Life: Love, Loss and, Kimchi” won Glamour Magazine’s 2016 essay contest. “I thought (the award email) was spam,” she laughed. Around the same time, Zauner’s music career began to take off. It wasn’t until her tour for Soft Sounds from Another Planet ended in Seoul in 2017 that she realized she had much more to say. 

The memoir is the story of Zauner and her mother, who passed away from cancer when Zauner was only 25 years old. Zauner chronicles the stages of her mother’s sickness, from the diagnosis to her final moments, while she reflects on the past. She describes their strained relationship — the tensions influenced by their disparate upbringings and backgrounds — and how they navigated their challenges: through food.

Zauner explains the role of food in her relationship with her mother at the start of her memoir, writing, “Food was how my mother expressed her love. No matter how critical or cruel she could seem — constantly pushing me to meet her intractable expectations — I could always feel her affection radiating from the lunches she packed and the meals she prepared for me just the way I liked them.” Throughout the night, Reid and members of the audience posed numerous food-related questions, which Zauner happily answered, “Everyone has some sort of food memory that connects them with their family,” she said.

Beyond the foodie interrogation — Reid came up with a food quiz halfway through the night — much of the conversation centered around Zauner’s writing experience. The creation of her memoir was a five-year-long on-again off-again process. “A lot of this book was written in between sound check and show time, in the van, on the plane,” she said. “I wrote really badly for a long time until I hit 90,000 words.”

In response, Reid clarified that a lot of people don’t understand that “writing well requires writing badly,” which was repeated several times throughout the night. “It’s so freeing to go in and write badly and get it out of the way,” Zauner added. Later, when asked by an aspiring writer for advice, again she shared the importance of “allowing yourself the freedom to write poorly,” and to remember that “a lot of what is going to be good (happens) during revision.” 

In addition to sharing tips and details on the writing process, Zauner entertained the crowd with her effortless charm, humor and quick anecdotes — for instance, telling us about the night she embarrassed herself in front of Taylor Swift — and inspired us with her honesty.   

“One part of (the) memoir (genre) that’s interesting is that it forces you to have radical empathy,” Zauner shared. “I was so angry in the first draft, and I didn’t want to tell that story. I don’t think I realized how angry I was until I stepped away from it … I realized it wasn’t fair, and (I knew) I needed to be as fair as possible,” she said. 

“I had a lot of shame before I started writing this book,” Zauner said, in reference to the fraught relationship she and her mom shared when she was a teenager. The two had finally reconnected when her mom fell sick and Zauner added, “The most heartbreaking thing is that we were just returning to each other.”

She speaks to this heartbreak near the end of her memoir with beautiful, lyrical prose: “Thrown as we were on opposite sides of a fault line — generational, cultural, linguistic — we wandered lost without a reference point, each of us unintelligible to the other’s expectations, until these past few years when we had just begun to unlock the mystery, carve the psychic space to accommodate each other, appreciate the differences between us, linger in our refracted commonalities. Then, what would have been the most fruitful years of understanding were cut violently short, and I was left alone to decipher the secrets of inheritance without its key.”

The night reached a fitting conclusion with Zauner answering a question about grief and food. An audience member wondered how Zauner dealt with the inability to recreate a meal exactly how her mother made it, to which she replied, “It’s a good thing that it’ll never taste the same.”

It’s what allows us to remember.

Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu.

The post Author of ‘Crying in H Mart’ Michelle Zauner ends book tour at the Michigan Theater appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

This article is written as a series of tweets and is available on Twitter as a thread under the profile @popularbinger. It is meant to be interactive — let me know your thoughts and add to this meta-discourse here.

Am I the only one who can only start watching a TV show if it’s popular? Like, it literally has to be trending for me to sit down and watch it.

— A thread (1/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

I just binge-watched all of “Swarm,” but only after reading multiple tweets about it. I saw the clip between Dominique Fishback and Billie Eilish three or four times, read all the replies praising their acting, and *then* sat down to watch it. (2/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

(The clip where it’s just the two of them talking, the dialogue fast and the facial expressions so poignant… I read one tweet about the two of them having an “act off” because it’s so intense… the two work together really well.) (2.1)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

And to be honest, I didn’t even enjoy it (because of the gore and its disturbing nature). I was actively repulsed by it, but I kept watching because I knew people were talking about it, and I wanted to engage in the discourse. (3/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

I want to clarify that the show is epic. The acting is insane, the plot is intense and it is overall a super addicting watch… I just struggle to watch shows that are so unabashedly violent, and the murders in “Swarm” do not sugarcoat anything… (3.1)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

…the episode featuring Billie Eilish was actually one of the worst ones to watch from a gore perspective… it was so gross (which I understand is the point, lol). (3.2)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

If “Swarm” hadn’t been blowing up my Twitter feed, I know I wouldn’t have watched it — partly because, yes, the serial killing was scarring to me, but also because there wouldn’t have been anything for me to “gain” from it… (4/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

…not even the chance to join in a conversation, which for me is the whole point of binge-watching! It’s about the experience of watching it with others just as much as it’s about enjoying the show. (5/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

It’s why I’ve binged every season of “You” (also disturbing and violent). Every time a new season drops, my Twitter feed goes berserk. People are tweeting their reactions, tweeting about Penn Badgley, etc., and I want to be a part of it. (5.1)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

Like, this man is creepy!! He’s A STALKER! Which people keep overlooking every time a new season drops because Badgley is attractive… like hello, that’s sort of the whole point of the show! (5.2)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

And though the nature of the violence of “You” is different from that of “Swarm,” it was still hard for me to watch… especially concerning part two of season four (SPOILER ALERT) and what he does to Marienne and Nadia. (5.3)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

Apologies for getting distracted… let’s get back to it. (6/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

When I say that I want to “be a part of it,” I don’t mean that I literally jump into the discourse. It’s not about me adding in my own opinions and reactions, but understanding others’… (7/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

Seeing how other people react to shows always fascinates me. Like, this might be a stretch, but think about “The Hunger Games” renaissance for a second. Some people are brainstorming Quarter Quell themes while others… (8/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

…are unpacking how Gale represents what a modern revolution would actually be like. Though people are reading or watching the same thing, they focus on entirely different aspects when it comes to online discourse. (9/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

And if you know nothing about “The Hunger Games” (which seems unlikely), doesn’t this “renaissance” make you *want* to know about it? Even though I’ve been a longtime fan, I reread the books and rewatched the movies… (10/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

…when I saw people talking about it again on social media. It’s a disease! (11/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

I want to understand and laugh at “The Last of Us” memes, I want to tear up at fan edits of Peeta, I want to fall down the rabbit hole of conspiracy theories about “You” and in general be a part of the cultural phenomenon. (12/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

(I consumed “TLoU” commentary for weeks before I started watching… I read tweets about the accuracy of the fungal infection and watched fan edits of Pedro Pascal.) (12.1)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

Did I actually have an interest in watching yet another zombie show? Not really. Was I going to let that stop me? You know the answer. (12.2)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

And the ability to do that depends on two things: 1) me watching the show and 2) the show being popular enough for me to watch it. (13/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

Yes, I know I can enjoy a show without it being popular. I have (“The Owl House”)! But it’s never as satisfying if there isn’t some sort of discourse attached to the show for me to indulge in. (14/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

The more I think about it, the more I wonder if it is the popularity of the show that draws me in or how the act of watching the shows has become a convention of our culture and I feel the need to see what everyone is talking about. (15/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

It’s almost like protocol at this point. If the show is trending on Twitter, I watch it. (16/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

There are some shows, like “Swarm,” that I didn’t know about until everyone was applauding it on Twitter. But it works the other way around, too, when the Twitter hype comes *before* the show. (17/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

Before “Wednesday” dropped, for example, I knew I’d be binging it. There was so much excitement and talk clogging my Twitter feed that whether the show ended up being good or not wasn’t a concern of mine. (18/?)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

People were already celebrating Jenna Ortega’s take on Wednesday, from her dead-pan stare to her style based only on promo photos and premiere. Pre-release, it was popular, it was conventional, people were talking about it, so I was in. (18.1)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

And maybe I’m in over my head, but I definitely think companies like Netflix are taking advantage of this idea… like, they *want* their shows to be preceded by conversation/conventionality because it means people (like me) will watch! (19/?).

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

(i.e., they capitalize on our discourse… usually. RIP “First Kill.”) (19.1)

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

Am I the only one falling prey to this conventionality? Tell me if I am, Twitter, and I’ll get a grip. But be honest, is it just the plot that intrigues you? Or do you also watch popular shows just to be part of the surrounding discourse? (20/20).

— Lillian Pearce (@popularbinger) April 3, 2023

Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu.

The post I only watch TV shows people are talking about appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

In Aminder Dhaliwal’s 2018 graphic novel “Woman World,” men have gone extinct. Without them, babies are artificially born and are all female. The new generations will only know of men through the artifacts they find — like a DVD of “Paul Blart: Mall Cop.”

Dhaliwal’s take on a world without men is hilarious. While there are some principal characters who guide the story, including a grandma and her granddaughter, the novel is composed of humorous vignettes of a village establishing themselves in this new “woman world.” From establishing a flag for their district (a photo of Beyoncé’s thighs) to discovering dildo factories, Dhaliwal creates a hysterical tale from the perspectives of women who have never known men in a world that was once run by them. 

Conflict in Dhaliwal’s woman world only goes as far as unrequited love; Dhaliwal writes that in this universe, “the women spent their days … appreciating loved ones, strengthening the community, wisening up, growing older and spreading love.” “Woman World” is more than wholesome, though; it truly is laugh-out-loud worthy. Dhaliwal paints inclusive portraits of women in terms of age, body and race, highlighting and embracing all aspects of their humanity. 

Like “Woman World,” Tillie Walden’s “On a Sunbeam” is a story without men, though it takes place in outer space as opposed to our familiar world. While the focus of Dhaliwal’s novel is the extinction of men, their absence is just a perk of Walden’s. Mia is our protagonist who is desperate to find her long-lost love. In the present timeline, Mia joins a team dedicated to fixing infrastructure in outer space, which is made up of other women and nonbinary people. While she works with them in the present, she reflects on her past, which is how we learn the story of her love — Mia meets Grace at her (seemingly all-female) boarding school, and they share a special connection. In spite of their bond, though, Grace abruptly disappears, leaving Mia with a staunch resolution to find her. 

“The Power” by Naomi Alderman is another example of a literary world run by women, though less peaceful and progressive than the aforementioned universes. Alderman takes our world and gives women — from babies to seniors — lethal powers. Men still exist, though they understand this new power as a threat to their livelihood. The book takes place in different parts of the world and showcases how different countries react. In the United States, for example, the government wants to prohibit women from working with children and in government positions. Soon, though, the attempts of men to control women and their new power is inverted, as women begin to rise up all over the globe. 

What begins as a “girl power” movement quickly evolves into brutally flawed chaos. Women start to adopt the problematic ideology of abusing their power “because they can,” which although is understood to be a mockery of the world we live in — where powerful men constantly abuse their power because they too simply can — is questionable. Alderman almost seems to excuse the behavior of oppressive, powerful men by saying that, if given the chance, women would do the exact same thing. 

These literary worlds run by women look drastically different from one another, amplifying the dimensionality, capacity and greatness of women. Dhaliwal, Walden and Alderman tell us that universes led by women are just as distinct and eccentric as women themselves; ruling literary worlds is just the beginning. 

Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu

The post When women rule the world appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

Over the summer, my friend and I started a bookclub to tackle our individual to-be-read piles. One of their picks was “The Priory of the Orange Tree,” an 800-page fantasy that had been trending on BookTok for several months. As a rare reader of fantasy and 800-page books alike, I was apprehensive about their choice; however, after making them read Joan Didion’s “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” (which left both of us disappointed and bored), I owed them. We began “Priory of the Orange Tree” in May, and finished it two, long months later. 

“The Priory of the Orange Tree” is not a book that can be easily summarized, given that it could be smoothly separated into a trilogy. An evil fire-breathing “wyrm” (different from the peaceful water dragons) known as “The Nameless One” is gaining strength, leaving everyone increasingly terrified of its return after having been defeated 1,000 years ago. Unfortunately, the world is divided based on their religious and wyrm/dragon beliefs, making it impossible for the regions to unite: in the East, people have close relationships with dragons, viewing them as Gods; in the West, also known as The Queendom of Inys, wyrms and dragons alike are feared and Queen Sabran IX rules as the direct descendant of the original slayer of The Nameless One, Sir Galian; and in the South resides the “secret mage society of The Priory,” which believes the original slayer was not Sir Galian, but rather his wife, Princess Cleolind, and if I am remembering correctly, understand the difference between evil fire wyrms and good water dragons. 

In addition to those conflicting politics, there’s a draconic plague, forbidden romances, a well-executed lesbian relationship and magical fruit. To say there’s a lot going on is an understatement. 

Shannon is nothing short of ambitious, which she proves again with her new release “A Day of Fallen Night,” the prequel to “The Priory of the Orange Tree.” The world is again divided into the aforementioned regions (as well as the North), which Shannon alternates between in each chapter. Though “A Day of Fallen Night” is another long-strung tale of dragons and magic, Shannon roots the story in three specific characters, all of whom are young women coming of age in their respective part of the world: Dumai in the East, Glorian in the West and Siyu in the South. Though their paths are diverse — Dumai spends her days serving the great Kwiriki, Glorian prepares to take over the throne and Siyu awaits her ascension into the Priory — the characters mirror each other in their ambitious and rebellious desires as they navigate their duties to their families, their regions and their realm. 

At this point in time, dragons have entered what is referred to as “the long slumber.” Though they can be awakened by the ringing of sacred bells, it is understood that the dragons should not be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. While the dragons sleep, wyrms begin to rise. In each region of the world, boulder-like rocks are found that generate a powerful and unfamiliar heat. Each region suffers the consequences of their arrival and prepares to defend their respective part of the world the best way they know how: in the West, with alliances; in the South, with magic; in the East, with dragons. 

Though Shannon incorporates similar themes and storylines in “A Day of Fallen Night,” what sets it apart from “The Priory of the Orange Tree” is its dynamic characters and their carefully crafted relationships. In each region, the three aforementioned women are heavily influenced by their relationships with their mother: Dumai’s mother, Unora, fled while pregnant with her to the East, where she raised Dumai in seclusion; their strong relationship is later upended by the arrival of Dumai’s father. Glorian’s relationship with her mother, Queen Sabran VI, is quite strenuous. Queen Sabran is incredibly chaste concerning her love for her daughter; when Glorian breaks her arm, for example, she refrains from visiting her. Siyu and her mother, Esbar, have perhaps the most complicated relationship of all — in the Priory, the Mother (Cleolind) is loved and worshipped above all else, and this sacred devotion displaces Esbar’s love for Siyu. It’s Esrba’s lover, and Siyu’s mentor, Tunuva, who expresses the most motherly affection for her. 

In addition to their familial relationships, Dumai, Glorian and Siyu are affected by their blossoming romantic relationships. While “The Priory of the Orange Tree” highlighted one romance in particular, Shannon allows several to prosper in “A Day of Fallen Night.” The romantic elements provide relief to the reader amid complicated fantastical worldbuilding and imminent wars, and emphasize Shannon’s ability to fashion realistic plotlines in tandem with fictional ones. 

Finally, it’d be a mistake not to mention our protagonist of the North, Wulf. The North is not mentioned in “The Priory of the Orange Tree,” but plays a central role in “A Day of Fallen Night.” Glorian’s father hails from the North, his closest friend and defender being Wulf — a man who is feared at worst and eerily regarded at best, given that he was found as a baby in the mysterious and magical woods. His role in the story becomes increasingly curious and evidently important as the book progresses, and unfortunately, just as predictable. Nevertheless, it’s forgivable because of how “A Day of Fallen Night” flourished in its other objectives. 

It’d be a shame for a book as ambitious, as imposing as “A Day of Fallen Night” to be anything short of a magnificent success — which is absolutely what it is. Again, Shannon writes a feat of a book that should be recognized for its splendor as much as for its expert worldbuilding and electric characters. With “A Day of Fallen Night,” Shannon is guaranteed an entrenched position in the fantasy world and genre, and will surely be an author who is read for years to come. 

Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu.

The post Samantha Shannon returns with another fantasy monolith, ‘A Day of Fallen Night’ appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

The 2023 POPSUGAR Reading Challenge marks the ninth consecutive challenge created by the lifestyle media company, which is dedicated to “expanding the horizons” of readers with a list of 50 specific prompts. The prompts range from standard suggestions like “a book about a family” to niche proposals like “a book with a rabbit on the cover.” 

This is the first installment of Daily Arts undertaking the challenge, which will hopefully serve to strengthen morale and inspire other readers. Read more to find out how we have completed the prompts and what our thoughts are on the books that we have read so far. 

A book by a first-time author 

“There There” by Tommy Orange

I have owned “There There” for quite some time, thanks to a recommendation from a former Books beat writer; however, I don’t read books as fast as I buy them, which I’ve come to conclude is my hamartia. For two years, Tommy Orange’s debut work has sat on my shelf — a complete shame, for “There There” was one of the most well-written debut works I have ever read. “There There” follows numerous Native American protagonists who all have some connection to Oakland, Calif., and as we later discover, connections to each other. Our narrators differ in identities like age and gender, but also in their relationship to their Native American identity. Their individual journeys compose the book, demonstrating the distinct realities and challenges of the characters despite sharing similar social identities. I was moved particularly by the intertwining stories of Orvil, his great-aunt Opal and his grandmother Jacquie, who are all separate narrators throughout the book, and their stories come together beautifully at the end. “There There” can fulfill several prompts for this year’s POPSUGAR Reading Challenge (including “a book with a song lyric as its title”), and it’s one I would recommend for those who enjoy emotional reads.

— Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce 

“The Fraud Squad” by Kyla Zhao 

I had really, really high hopes for “The Fraud Squad.” I saw it all over Goodreads and Instagram and thought the algorithm understood me. The synopsis sounded great and heist-like (who doesn’t love a good heist story?) but sadly, the book did not deliver. The main character Samantha was impossible to like. Admittedly, that doesn’t inherently make a bad character; some villains make the most interesting characters to read about. But Samantha was superficial, which made it difficult to sympathize with her. The side characters, like her friends Anya and love interest Tim, were similarly unreadable — all anyone cared about was high society, name brands and reputation, making them unrelatable and at times, despicable. The romance had potential but Sam and Tim had too few pages together to forge a meaningful connection. “The Fraud Squad” was an unmitigated disaster. If social media tries to entice you to read it, don’t listen — it won’t be worth it. 

— Daily Arts Writer Sabriya Imami 

“The Phone Booth at the Edge of the World: A Novel” by Laura Imai Messina

From the moment I laid eyes on “The Phone Booth at the Edge of the World,” I knew it was a book that was going to make me cry. A couple hundred pages later, I was not disappointed. Laura Imai Messina’s English language debut is a masterpiece of contemporary fiction that paints a beautiful and touching story of family, grief and healing. The novel follows Yui, a young radio host trying in vain to heal after losing both her mother and daughter in Japan’s devastating 2011 tsunami. After a caller on Yui’s radio show tells her a tale of an old telephone booth by the sea where you can go to speak to your loved ones, she embarks on a journey to overcome her mindless grief and piece her life back together. With each venture to the mysterious telephone booth, Yui finds herself drawn into a small, peculiar community of those who are also stumbling through their grief, and with the power of their shared experience, she gradually begins to rebuild her life. This beautiful novel is a deep dive into the complexity of human emotion, and with each tear I shed on my reading journey, I felt a welcome wave of catharsis and release. 

— Senior Arts Editor Annabel Curran 

A celebrity memoir

“Spare” by Prince Harry

Everyone knew that Prince Harry’s memoir was going to make an impact. The title alone evokes a sense of pity from prospective readers. That said, the book is … complicated. We get his side of the story, but he is undoubtedly an unreliable narrator. This is the norm with memoirs, to an extent, but things are different for “Spare,” primarily because of who Prince Harry is and his place in society. Many readers will probably take his word as gospel and allow his telling of certain events to color their perception of the entire, messy royal family. But there isn’t much to be gained from “Spare” as a book: It’s easy to read, but Harry’s tone is privileged most of the time, and he lacks self-awareness all of the time. The greatest thing you’ll get from reading “Spare” is understanding the gossip and buzz that has surrounded it. 

— Daily Arts Writer Sabriya Imami 

“The Opposite of Butterfly Hunting: The Tragedy and The Glory of Growing Up” by Evanna Lynch

Evanna Lynch is best known for her role as the eccentric outcast Luna Lovegood in the Harry Potter franchise, and many have admired how she brought the loveable character to life on the screen. But “The Opposite of Butterfly Hunting” goes beyond Harry Potter. Lynch gives a raw, heartbreaking account of her struggles with anorexia that followed her throughout her life, shining a light on the often undiscussed aspects of eating disorders — the toll it takes on family, the seeming impossibility of recovery and the eating habits that continue to haunt her even when she has put her disorder behind her. But despite Lynch’s eating disorder playing a central role in her story, this memoir is far from a typical “eating disorder book,” void of any toxic descriptions of disordered habits or visceral imagery of self-harm. Although Lynch is sharp and unsparing in her storytelling, she does not weigh us down with these unnecessary details, fully aware of the harm they can cause. Instead, she dives beneath the surface, examining the role of the pressures of womanhood and identity in her struggles. Lynch’s story is unbelievably inspiring, and following her as she embraces her creativity and dives into womanhood is a true joy. 

— Senior Arts Editor Annabel Curran 

“You’re That Bitch” by Bretman Rock 

I’ll be honest: I decided Bretman Rock’s new memoir would fulfill this prompt before I began reading. Another moment of truth: It pains me to mark a book as “Did Not Finish,” so I pushed through the memoir, fighting tooth and nail against my desire to set it down and let it collect dust. I know, that’s harsh, but I was incredibly disappointed by Rock’s memoir. Rock is clearly a force to be reckoned with — a celebrity/influencer at only 24 years old, he has endless stories to tell and advice to give. However, the lack of structure and poor organization made this memoir difficult, if not painful, to read. Rock jumped from discussions of his mother’s cravings during pregnancy to commentary on race without so much as a transitional expression. One moment he gives advice on how to survive bullying, the next, he’s painting a clear picture of how to douche your asshole. The memoir, in short, is all over the place. Though my heart was warmed with familial memories Rock shares, my mind was, more often than not, frustrated and dissatisfied.

— Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce

A modern retelling of a classic 

“By the Book” by Julia Sonneborn

I loved every word of Jane Austen’s “Persuasion.” If you felt the same, you’ll love the adorable modern retelling “By the Book” just as much — maybe even a little more. “By the Book” takes the bare bones of “Persuasion” and builds an entirely new, but just as charming, novel with just the right amount of nods to the original, no matter how obvious those nods may be. Anne Corey is a professor of women’s literature at a prestigious California university — a job she worked for all her life. But after thousands of dollars of graduate school tuition payments and endless hours of work, she’s left with no money, no job security and worse, no love life to speak of. When her ex-fiancé and first love, Alex, shows up as the new president of her university, she knows her life is about to get even worse. The tension between Anne and Alex is palpable, but the story builds excitement and anxiety for the reader through plot points beyond their relationship, ensuring that the audience isn’t just rooting for romance but for Anne. With an entertaining cast of characters and a writing style that puts the “modern” in modern retelling, “By the Book” is a charming novel that proves that Jane Austen never goes out of style.

— Senior Arts Editor Annabel Curran 

“Cinderella Is Dead” by Kalynn Bayron

I picked “Cinderella Is Dead” for my modern retelling because I liked the cover, which proved representative of the story at hand: fantastical, bewitching and very YA. Our protagonist Sophia grows up in Lille, a town ruled by Prince Charming (who takes on several names throughout the book), the familiar story of Cinderella its doctrine. Each year, the women of Lille are forced to attend the King’s Ball where they are either chosen by Lille’s bachelors or are considered “forfeit” and are left to meet a mysterious and lethal fate. Sophia rebels against this horrific patriarchy and joins another rebel, Constance, and the infamous Fairy Godmother in the fight to take down the king and free the people of Lille from his unforgiving, discriminatory reign. Bayron demonstrates the pliability of stories we know and love, and her own talent for turning them on their heads.

The story ends up being a little cheesy, a little gay and incredibly entertaining. 

— Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce

“These Violent Delights” by Chloe Gong 

I love retellings. Authors who can masterfully weave together a classic story with an original perspective deserve all the praise they receive and more. “These Violent Delights” is a perfect example of a classic retelling done right. Set in 1920s Shanghai, Gong introduces two rival gangs and their heirs: Roma Montagov and Juliette Cai. Sound familiar? It should. Past retellings of “Romeo and Juliet” (such as “West Side Story” and “Gnomeo and Juliet”) have one major flaw that originates from Shakespeare’s play itself — Romeo and Juliet always fall for each other too quickly. As a result, the romance is unbelievable and often annoying. Two kids that meet each other one day fall desperately in love the next, only to die right afterward? Yawn. But in “These Violent Delights,” Roma and Juliette have a history that makes discovering their intricacies as characters and romantic leads much more interesting. Gong’s book has all the markings of a perfect retelling — complex characters, witty callbacks to the original text and a story that follows the tale we know but can stand on its own as well. Combined with her beautiful, almost poetic writing, “These Violent Delights” stuns. Fulfilling your modern retelling prompt with this book is without a doubt the right decision. 

— Daily Arts Writer Sabriya Imami 

Daily Arts Writers Lillian Pearce and Sabriya Imami and Senior Arts Editor Annabel Curran can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu, simami@umich.edu and currana@umich.edu.

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Jennifer Maritza McCauley’s debut collection of short stories begins with a bang: Claudia is helping her mother, Phoenix, kidnap her little brother who was taken by Child Youth Services. This first story, “Torsion,” reminded me of fast-paced, tense action scenes like the introduction of “Baby Driver.” I held my breath as Claudia contemplated deserting her mother’s plan and leaving her family behind, fighting her desires to save herself and to “pay back (her mother) for all of her love.” The final choice Claudia makes speaks to the principal theme of “When Trying to Return Home”: the toxicity and beauty of love.

Maritza McCauley explores the dark sides of both familial and romantic love, with specific regard to “the question of belonging,” through her Black American and Afro-Puerto Rican characters. The title of the work comes from her 2016 poem of the same name which speaks to Martiza McCauley’s identity as an Afro-Latina woman and writer: “In the morning, I leave a panaderia on SW 137th / and a Miami browngirl sees my face / and says de dónde eres Miami or Not? / And I say Not, because I live in this blue city now / but she means where are your parents from.”

This poem is also seen in a short story of the same title. Maritza McCauley borrows lines from her poem, formatting them in the third person instead of first: “Andra could tell her the history of her family gods. Say that her family gods are rainforest-hot, cropland-warm, dark and blazing with every-colored skin. Their mouths sound like all kinds of countries. She could tell her those gods lived wild and holy in her, in white and blue cities where her skin is remembered or forgotten, in cities where she was always one thing, or from anywhere.” I’m glad Maritza McCauley found a new space for these words, given their effortless beauty and almost melancholic tinge. 

“Torsion” and “When Trying to Return Home” are the first two stories in the collection, exhibiting Martiza McCauley’s ability to capture explosive moments just as candidly and compellingly as sentimental scenes. Each story involves a different topic — from integration to religion — but is unified in their commentaries on love. One story, “I Don’t Know Where I’m Bound,” showcases a short and unfinished queer romance, while another, “Fevers,” talks about shared love between brothers. Though the type of love varies, Maritza McCauley conveys the complexity of each. She begs the question, is love something we owe? Is love enough of a reason to stay? When is love unconditional? Is it ever? 

These questions arise in each of the nine short stories, some of which contain the same characters, though they’re always presented with a different perspective. For instance, Estelle is a character seen several times throughout the collection, first as the object of the narrator’s attention in “Good Guys,” second as the sister of the protagonist in “I Don’t Know Where I’m Bound,” and lastly, as the main character in the final story “Liberation Day.” Each perspective offers a different perception of Estelle, adding to the dimensions of her character; this strategy prevents Estelle specifically from growing flat, which was necessary given how often we see her. However, it had the (fortunate) consequence of making me wish Estelle had her own novel as opposed to three short vignettes.

Though “Torsion” was my favorite short story in the collection for its incontestable energy, “La Espera” was another notable piece. Composed of four alternating perspectives, “La Espera” tells the story of Sofi, her mother Camila, her Aunt Elena and her father Carlos, the latter who, in spite of having children with Camila, is married to Elena. “La Espera” is perhaps the most complex depiction of love that Martiza McCauley offers here for its many intersecting romantic and familial relationships. When contemplating her relationship with Carlos, Camila describes the love she feels as “a wolf of a feeling, whatever it is, and it’s not pure love. It’s fanged and grisly; it’s been gobbling me up for so long I think the pain has always been with me.” It’s remarkable how heartbreaking of a story Maritza McCauley composes within such limited word count. “La Espera” itself is proof that Martiza McCauley is an author worth paying attention to. 

The worst thing I have to say about “When Trying to Return Home” is that I wish it was longer. Maritza McCauley teases her skills throughout the collection, highlighting her mastery of thrills and heartbreak, all the while incorporating authentic, genuine glimpses into the Black American and Afro-Puerto Rican experience. I can only hope that Maritza McCauley continues to be inspired by her own work so a novel length version of “La Espera” or “Torsion” is available next. 

Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu.

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I didn’t pick up Bretman Rock’s new memoir, “You’re That Bitch: & Other Cute Lessons About Being Unapologetically Yourself,” thinking I would hate it. In fact, as a lover of both celebrity memoirs and Rock, I was positively excited to start reading. But there are only so many disparaging comments about lesbians and tactless editorial choices that a reader can take. 

The memoir begins with a cute intro — literally, it’s titled “A Cute Intro” — about Rock’s early life growing up in the Philippines, his relationship with gender and sexuality, and a brief background on his stardom as an internet celebrity. Gender and sexuality are two principal themes of Rock’s memoir, given his status as a pioneer of “the new standard of genderless beauty.” Throughout the memoir, Rock uses both “he/him/his” and “she/her/hers” pronouns and clarifies his lack of preference. Since “he/him/his” pronouns are used in his biography and in the book jacket blurb, those are the pronouns I will use throughout this review. 

Though Rock’s discussions of gender are mostly enlightening, his descriptions of transcending the binary often fall victim to stereotypes. “I’ve always been a divine blend of masculine and feminine—so if I look like a lesbian after a bicep bulging workout, call me he, but if I’m in full makeup wearing a Catholic schoolgirl plaid skirt and barrettes, call me she,” Rock wrote in the introduction. It seems that there is an intrinsic relationship between lesbianism and masculinity for Rock, and while there are lesbians who claim that description, it’s not something Rock can. He only refers to himself as a gay man, and clarifies time and time again his aversion to vaginas: “I will always try everything once. (Just not vagina. I’m no vagitarian. That’s one thing I’m certain of.)” 

Rock also feels comfortable using the lesbian slur as an adjective, which is certainly an interesting choice for someone with such an unabashed aversion to lesbianism. I don’t doubt that my own identity makes me acutely aware of Rock’s lesbian commentary, but it’s not the only problem with his memoir. 

On a surface level, “You’re That Bitch” lacks any semblance of written prowess. Beyond simple spelling and grammatical errors — I’m not talking about purposeful errors, like the fact that Rock manages to spell “sexy” three different ways on the same page, but errors that had me checking to see if I received an uncorrected proof — the memoir’s structure is falling apart at the seams, the organization is almost laughable. For instance, Rock ends one paragraph with “When I first started creating content, I wanted to be accepted in the white world, too,” and begins the next with “Sometimes I think a lot of people assume that because I’m an influencer, I’m illiterate.” The lack of editorial guidance means Rock repeatedly stands in his own way of crafting meaningful discussions and dialogue, erasing the potential of the work and the substance of his experiences.

Yet, even when Rock’s writing did have the chance to shine, his pen failed him, like when he described his move to the United States from the Philippines: “Right before we landed, everyone put their window shades up, and I almost broke my neck trying to take in all of Oahu, my new home, from the air. It was drizzling, but the sun was also out. It was so poetically beautiful, I almost feel like I could write a poem about it, but I’m not going to, yeah.” 

I won’t lie and say there wasn’t anything I enjoyed about “You’re That Bitch.” Highlights of the memoir were Rock’s efforts to make the reader laugh, with lines like “Walmart was the birthplace of my essence,” and when he declared Junie B. Jones a “diva of the written word.” Moments like these made me disappointed because they nodded to Rock’s potential and abilities. If he had leaned more comedic, following the example of authors like Jill Gutowitz, and taken advantage of his natural talent, his story would’ve been better served. Instead, it was hard to grasp any of his story because I was entirely preoccupied with its poor execution. 

Unfortunately, “You’re That Bitch” is not a book I would — or could — recommend. In truth, I’m not sure who the intended audience is. From inserts on “Douching Your Ass Like a Bad Bitch” to “How to Deal with Bullies” and “Finding Connection,” the planned readership is unclear. I hope Rock tries again, because he clearly is a force to be reckoned with and someone with stories worth listening to. Until then, stick to watching his YouTube channel.

Daily Arts Writer Lillian Pearce can be reached at pearcel@umich.edu.

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Meera Kumar, Daily Arts Writer: Hi, everybody! Today we’re talking about modern love as portrayed in “The Hunger Games.” We’re really interested to see how “The Hunger Games,” although it was written maybe more than a decade ago, predicts certain facets of love in our time. I read this Vox article a while ago, a couple years after “Mockingjay” came out. And it started out by saying it doesn’t really seem like Katniss likes either of the guys (Peeta and Gale). What do you guys think?

Swara Ramaswamy, Daily Arts Writer: I think of that New York Times interview where Suzanne Collins discusses that Peeta and Gale aren’t really just Peeta and Gale. They’re representative of ideologies and perspectives on life. And so maybe the reason why she doesn’t seem like she likes either of them is because she knows what they come with if she chooses one or the other. 

MK: Wow. Intriguing. Love it. And that was one of the very few interviews Suzanne Collins has done. She talks about how Peeta and Gale don’t just symbolize love interests, but you know, just war theories with Peeta symbolizing diplomacy and Gale symbolizing more violent approaches to conflict resolution. And you know, Suzanne Collins says you need both — not just one of them can win the war. So yeah, read the interview. It’s amazing. We’ll link it.

Lillian Pearce, Daily Arts Writer: At the end of “Mockingjay,” Katniss overhears the two of them talking about which one of them she’s going to choose. And Gale is like, “Oh, she’s gonna choose whichever one of us she can’t live without, not who she loves the most.” At first she was upset, but then she reflected and thinks it’s kind of true; what she needs is not Gale, who at this point, wants to blow everything up and have everyone be treated like how his people were treated. 

MK: She talks about Peeta being who she ends up with, and how after she sees him she sees a dandelion as the first symbol of hope (and it’s almost like his yellow hair — he’s almost similar to Prim in what he symbolizes). The whole point of this is that she’s this very traumatized character who has literally been through some of the worst things imaginable and she’s filled with so much pain, the idea of war theories and also love interests aren’t on her mind. Like, that’s not what she’s concerned about. She’s concerned about staying alive for Prim. But at the same time, I also think of that scene in “Catching Fire” where Finnick realizes that Katniss actually loves Peeta. Finnick (like everyone else) discovers her love before Katniss even processes how much she cares about Peeta. 

SR: I think the reason why she doesn’t end up with Gale is because he’s too much like herself. And even in the books they are described as looking almost identical to each other. And I think they’re just too similar — in “Mockingjay” she was like, “I have enough of that rage against people who have wronged me inside of me and I don’t need to be with someone who facilitates that further.”

LP: Gale provided for Katniss’s family, which was obviously very important for Katniss, especially considering Prim. But once she was able to do that herself (like when she got back from the Games), there was really no need for Gale — which I think he knew, given his earlier comment. A part of me was always so mad at Gale because he kept making everything about him. And I felt like she just came back from like, literally, a manslaughter tournament. And he was upset. 

SR: It was so ridiculously unserious.

LP: I was like, oh my god, get a grip. How can you expect her to be able to think about anything at all? Especially a romantic relationship? I felt so bad for Katniss because she’s well — I don’t want to belittle her character by being like, “oh, she’s like a 16-year-old girl,” but like, she is a 16-year-old girl who never got to experience love as love! It was a survival tactic. 

MK: That reminds me of what Swara said a while ago about Peeta making Katniss desirable; Gale was never like, “Oh my god, marry me,” at the beginning of the first book. He didn’t really give a shit. And seeing Peeta want her and viewing the Hunger Games, he began to have this perception of Katniss as a commodity.

SR: I think that also warped her perception of love. Because it seemed as though all of the instances where she was experiencing love for someone else was conditional, and very heavily linked to important things like her survival. 

I think it also goes back to the whole media perception of love. Because when you see, for example, TikTok, which feels like the most “real” media, videos of couples doing cute things and the comments are always like, “This is so cute. I’m gonna go die now.” 

MK: Right, people feel implicated in this video — in a relationship — that’s not about them. 

SR: You don’t know anything about this couple. You don’t know if they even like each other. You know what I mean?

MK: It’s something that I see on TikTok all the time. It’s frightening (that) people see videos of TikTok and they see it almost as a challenge or a message to them just because it’s on their For You page. Comments like, “ha ha ha so cute … gonna go lie down on a highway” or like, “God, I see what you do for others.”

SR: Yeah, they’re like, “Why would you do this to me?” And it’s like, this isn’t about you!

LP: It’s so strange. Like on the internet, people aren’t happy for people in love, it’s always as if there’s something at stake, or like it’s a personal attack to see other people be happy. 

SR: I think there’s an assumption that whoever makes content and puts it on the internet is doing it for other people to see it, so content creation is taking into account your potential viewers, instead of just as a creative outlet or a form of expression.

MK: For sure. I don’t think what I’m about to say relates to “The Hunger Games,” but I feel especially in terms of the whole idea of a “black mirror,” like, there’s this idea that, “Oh, the algorithm chose this for me. Why?” 

LP: I read about how even your casual Instagram post is a form of content creation. In the start of “Catching Fire,” when Katniss and Peeta had to go back on camera, Haymitch was like, “You have a lot of warming up to do,” because the Capitol was expecting a performance. They had to curate their image to be like, “We’re not accidental revolutionaries, we’re just in love!” 

MK: By opening things up for media consumption, there is another player in the relationship. It was kind of implied that President Snow was the third person in Katniss and Peeta’s relationship — which has some pretty interesting implications about modern love and couples content. When you’re creating content, the gaze of the viewers becomes a part of your relationship.

I think of the Capitol and how easy it was to convince them; it makes me think of social media fan edits and fanfiction and shipping. People are able to take details out of context and build so much around it and become very parasocially attached and feel like they’re a part of it. I’m thinking of Peeta’s classic “if it weren’t for the baby” line and how in the Capitol audience, there are people screaming, crying, begging for the Games not to happen.

SR: It’s interesting that that was the point at which they — the Capitol — broke. It wasn’t the fact that Snow called Victors back to fight again, or even when the Victors were clarifying on stage that they didn’t want it to happen. It was like, “Oh, my favorite celebrity’s unborn child is now at stake,” and that’s why they were upset … It’s always about them. It’s similar to how we view relationships, too. We only really care enough to do something if it impacts us. 

MK: Like, if it impacts our emotional well-being. 

LP: I was thinking about how people piece together all of these things, like the Sally Rooney Cinematic Universe. After there was speculation that Phoebe Bridgers broke up with Paul Mescal, it went up in flames. It’s crazy how much that was trending because the internet was so invested in that relationship. And I think because it was like a relationship that fits into this diagram, quite literally, but also fit into this — I don’t even know what to call it — like a puzzle that people enjoyed; people liked Phoebe Bridgers and Paul Mescal together because it allowed for X, Y and Z. But when they broke up and it disrupted this image, I wondered how it would affect their careers, which can hinge on the relationships they make public or private. 

MK: 100%. I literally remember when someone texted about the Phoebe Bridgers and Paul Mescal breakup. The first thing I said without even thinking was “I need to go lie down.” Why? 

SR: I think it’s our fundamental need to make up stories about people or things? Like, that’s why we’re invested in it, right? It’s a story. You want to know every detail about it. You can fabricate images of it in your head. Going back to “The Hunger Games,” that’s exactly what Peeta was trying to do on stage: walk the Capitol through their relationship, so they feel like they’re in on the story. 

MK: Like, once again, “if it weren’t for the baby!”

SR: Even in the first one where he was like, “The girl I have a crush on came here with me.” Brilliant.

MK: Truly. From the second Peeta started, he was playing those cameras, and people were obsessed with their relationship, even the parts that were completely fabricated. And in 2023 this is having a resurgence on TikTok, with people being like “Peeta forever!” … modern love.

SR: Peeta’s ability to play the crowd … Snow took that and used it against him when they hijacked him and set him in front of the camera again to convince the districts to stop fighting. But even so, you could see it on his face that he didn’t believe in what he was saying. 

I think the whole book to movie adaptation, that’s why we have edits, right? Because they cast hot people as Katniss and Peeta, and Gale and Finnick. And, yeah, Finnick is supposed to be hot, but the other three genuinely didn’t need to be. That furthers the whole idea that like the Capitol, we reduce things to aesthetics — like when people were choosing “Team Gale” over “Team Peeta” because Liam Hemsworth is hotter. That’s not the point!

LP: It’s how they appeased the audience though, because we would be repulsed to see literal kids fighting to the death. Like how Rue was cast as a young girl? Everyone was that young and innocent, fighting to the death, which is what made it so scarring. But in the movies, you’re less disgusted with the Hunger Games than you were supposed to be. What struck me most about the books when I was rereading them was that they’re so young. The first time I read “The Hunger Games,” I was younger than Katniss. But now that I’m older, I’m like, “Oh my god, she’s literally 16!” I was losing my mind. 

SR: When I was rereading the series over break, during the part where her first kiss is in the arena … awful. 

MK: It’s terrible. I feel like it’s easy to hate on the movie and be like, obviously, you erased all of these things, to make it super sensationalized and sexy. But the fact that it was able to grow into the story that it did … that totally would not have been possible if it weren’t made to look captivating, mesmerizing, almost fun to the point where people were taking quizzes online like “What Hunger Games district are you?” This idea was used in “Catching Fire” marketing material. The same images (that) were used in the story to advertise the Games to the Capitol were the same images used to promote the movie to real-life audiences.

SR: Which is a huge slap in the face to a lot of people … but it was fantastic.

MK: It’s amazing. 

SR: Suzanne Collins deserves a Nobel prize. And a knighthood. 

MK: She said in an interview with the New York Times that she got the idea for “The Hunger Games” based off of flipping channels between reality TV programs and the Iraq War coverage, and she was thinking about how those two things fit together. That gives some clarity towards the impetus of “The Hunger Games.”

SR: It’s like the Hunger Games-ification of war because that’s the only way to make people care.

LP: Out of the edits that have been made, most of them revolve around romantic images from “The Hunger Games” … There are no edits about Katniss volunteering or in the arena itself. It’s the romance that we cling to, I think, as spectators, which makes so much sense why that was the angle Peeta pulled — because that’s what people like to see. I think that’s still true now. What we remember from the books and movies is what we see in the fan edits of Peeta and Finnick, not the war or the revolution.

MK: The absolute erasure of context and nuance, like, there’s very much this idea in “The Hunger Games” that the Capitol audience doesn’t know anything about us. In reality, they don’t know us, but they are die-hards for this idea of a relationship that they’ve built up in their head. And I think that was a really good predictor of how readers also reacted to “The Hunger Games”; people didn’t really care what “The Hunger Games” had to say, but they were like, “Oh, Liam Hemsworth is hotter.”

MK: It’s like, when someone has a certain image in the media, their body becomes a public commodity. Their self isn’t their own anymore — in a very literal way with Finnick, but in a very metaphorical way with a lot of celebrities today. And so it reminds you that you don’t really don’t know anything. Like you don’t know anything about these celebrities, except what their PR team has put out and what Twitter has said.

SR: Also, with the edits that you see on TikTok … At this point, people know Finnick’s entire story, right? They’ve read the books, or they’ve watched movies, and they’re still choosing to gloss over the awful parts of his life because he’s hot.

LP: He was literally taken advantage of because of how he looks. 

SR: He says at one point, “I haven’t dealt with anything as common as money in years.” Like, they always use that line in that edit, because he says it in a very flirty way. But you’re completely missing the point of what that line means.

MK: He was forced into dealing in secrets because he was forced into prostitution. So many people are telling him their secrets to feel like they know him.

SR: They were telling him things because they felt guilty about being with him (and essentially buying him from Snow). They would just tell him things and try to mimic that interpersonal relationship.

LP: One last thing when we’re talking about desire is the fact that each tribute plays up some aspect of their personality in order to make themselves appealing. Katniss struggles to do that — she can’t pretend to be sweet or sexy or innocent. She’s too uncomfortable. But this concept of desire is how you win the Hunger Games. 

SR: This manipulation of desire reminds me of when Snow says something about never letting others “see you bleed.” It’s about creating this false pretense of who you are, so you can hide who you really are.

MK: That’s amazing. This has been the equivalent of us being that guy pinning up pushpins and red string. 

SR: Mike’s Mic has “Hunger Games” recaps on his channel. I highly recommend watching them, they are so funny. I will ride and die for “The Hunger Games.”

Daily Arts Writers Meera Kumar, Swara Ramaswamy and Lillian Pearce can be reached at kmeera@umich.edu, swararam@umich.edu and pearcel@umich.edu.

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