Stitching Science

  

Stitching Science / Lauren Wright Vartanian & Keltie Thomas
Richmond Hill, ON: Firefly Books, c2024.
64 p.

I have something very special for you today! This is a book that is a wonderful blend of science and art. It's an alphabet book of scientific topics, all illustrated with hand-stitched images by Lauren Wright Vartanian, an artist who is fairly local to me. 

I watched this book's development on IG, as Vartanian began her stitching during lockdown. These are two of my favourite topics so I was thrilled when it was picked up as a book. The detailed embroideries are photographed very well, with large pages and clear, crisp photos that let you see the elements of each one. There is even a section at the end of closeups of some of the smaller details so you can really appreciate the handwork. 

Topics range from A to Z (haha, it is an alphabet book after all!). Vartanian got creative to find something for each letter, and while X is X-Ray as it often is in alphabet books, in this one it really makes sense to include this scientific discovery. Also, the image for this one is one of my favourites in the book, with the layered organza to represent the see through hand - and it's used on the cover because it is so striking. There are many others that are also stunning and creative and help you see things a little differently. If you want to see many, many of the interior images, check out Vartanian's website with her announcement about the book - so good! 

This is marketed as a children's book but I would say it's a middle grade read at least. Each topic has a one page essay about the scientific principle under discussion. Text was written by Keltie Thomas, and it complements the images well. It's thorough but not overwhelming for a younger reader.

Adults will enjoy this as much as younger readers, and might appreciate the skill in the illustrations a little more as well! I hope that reading this will spur interest among readers in both science and in embroidery. I think it's a gorgeous read that shows how well science and art work together to educate and inspire. 

If you're also in Ontario, you can see the original artwork exhibited at the Idea Exchange in Cambridge, on until March 30,. 2025. 

(this review first appeared at Following the Thread)

Return to Wyldcliffe Heights

 

Return to Wyldcliffe Heights / Carol Goodman
NY: William Morrow, c2024.
320 p.

A perfect choice for a Halloween read, Goodman's latest book returns to her academic, writerly themes for a shivery story. 

Agnes Corey is a young woman working in a small publishing house - a dream, really, as this is the publisher of her favourite book, "The Secret of Wyldcliffe Heights", a book many young women were drawn to over the years. It came to her through her mother's obsession with it, a mother with psychiatric issues whose relationship with Agnes is troubled and mostly estranged. 

But Agnes finds herself in an unexpected role - the author, Veronica St. Clair, has always refused to write a sequel, but suddenly decides she needs an assistant to take dictation on that long stalled sequel. Agnes gets the nod. 

St. Clair needs a secretary, as she's blind, following a fire at the real Wyldcliffe Heights, which also killed her father. The house used to be an asylum for troubled girls, complete with a chilling legend about Red Bess, a mass murderer said to haunt the house and grounds. But now it's just Veronica and her staff, keeping both her and this sprawling pile going. 

Agnes arrives to find a gothic manse on a hill with locked gates, groundman with gun, dark and cold hallways with strange passageways and a spooky attic, a surly housekeeper, and a promise of confidentiality made to Veronica. But she also has a secretive laptop and phone provided by her publisher, to keep them updated on any progress with their only money-making author. The past and the present collide as Agnes learns more about what really happened at Wyldcliffe Heights all those years ago and how much of the book was based in reality or imagination. And it has a strange connection to Agnes, too, the narrative of the sequel tunneling into her dreams. 

This is a real gothic, with all the mystery and danger you'd expect - there is also the town and townspeople, who have a whole festival celebrating Red Bess and the dangerous legend, which comes to life on Halloween. There are a couple of townspeople who help Agnes but many more who seem prickly and suspicious. And Agnes is wondering if she is really as stable as she pretends to be, after all. 

With the action of this book all based in a novel and its sequel, with tawdry New York life colouring the past, and so much riding on a publishing house, it's a very bookish book. Women's lives and their autonomy is also a huge theme in the story, both past and present. This is a dense mystery that bears deeper examination - you might find yourself flipping back to check on a story that's being told differently a few chapters later. I found it engrossing - loved the characters, whether they were 'likeable' or not - the setting was fantastic, both New York and Wyldcliffe Heights, and I really enjoyed the way that all the stories eventually interlock and connect the varied characters. Even many of the side characters were fully drawn and interesting on their own. Lots of great thematic content for discussion here, as well as being a great read for Halloween season. 

The Disinvited Guest

The Disinvited Guest / Carol Goodman 
NY: William Morrow, c2022.
304 p.

I usually grab any book by Goodman as soon as it appears; but this 2022 novel was one I skipped. Mostly because it's set during a pandemic, and I just wasn't in the mood for it in 2022. But I went back to it this month to catch up before reading Goodman's newest.

The story takes place in a returning pandemic, a few years after our shared 2020. Lucy Harper is our heroine; she still has recurring trauma and health issues after the original pandemic. But now she's married to Reed, her rich friend from college, and as another pandemic looms he is taking her to his family's private island for safety. They are quarantining with a handful of others, including Reed's sister and her girlfriend, and their college bestie Ada and her stuffy husband Crosby. There's also Mac, a local and good friend of Reed's, who will be joining them. It seems perfect, what could go wrong? 

This is another book with Agatha Christie vibes; everyone stuck on an island and strange things beginning to happen. Supplies are going missing, creepy historical things about the island are coming to light, and people are not always what they seem. An interesting element added the main story is the backstory of the island as a location for sick immigrants to be quarantined in the past. And the ghastly fate of many of them shows up in family documents that Lucy finds and begins to read. As things ramp up the reader starts to wonder, is this all for real or is Lucy loosing her grip a little bit? 

While I was hesitant about reading another pandemic novel, this one was weirdly ridiculous in the best way. Creepy woods and past events, people who are all under great stress, isolation and grave danger. This was a little more focused on contemporary characters and a remote setting than some of Goodman's often academic settings but I found it had good pacing and really kept me reading. The ending was bonkers, although I had been suspecting one of the characters for a while before it all came out. Definitely an atmospheric and chilling read for this time of year. Goodman is, as usual, reliable with her suspense. 

 

 

Wildfire At Midnight

Wildfire at Midnight/ Mary Stewart
London: Coronet, 1972, c1956.
224 p.

I read a lot of Mary Stewart when I was younger - I always liked romantic suspense, and she was one of the best. But somehow I missed this one on my first encounters with her writing. It's not one of the best she's ever done, but when I read it recently I still enjoyed it. 

It's set on the Isle of Skye during the summer of 1952 -- Giannetta, a young fashion model, has left the crush of London leading up to the Queen's coronation, to get some R&R at a remote Scottish hotel. She is dismayed when she arrives to find that her philandering ex-husband is also a guest, along with a mixed bag of other English guests. It's a bit "And Then There Were None", as Giannetta soon discovers that everyone is on edge, since a young local girl was murdered on the mountainside shortly before she arrived. 

Then another murder happens, and like before there is a ritualistic element to it. It seems clear that it had to have been one of the guests, although who is still a mystery. Unfortunately for Giannetta, the murderer has now turned his attention to her. 

There is a lot of good stuff in this one - great descriptive passages of the Scottish countryside and especially the fog, which plays a vital role in the conclusion in a hair-raising chase through blinding fog and bogs, with Giannetta trying to elude a killer. The identity of the murderer is also well concealed and not easily guessable, which makes the story much more dramatic. 

But, it is also set in the 50s and there are some very retro opinions on marriage and a woman's right to complain when her husband strays. (ie: don't). Giannetta and her ex, Nicholas, have prickly encounters throughout the book but we can all see where this is going: she takes him back, even though his character seems bland and boring compared to most of the others, and he's never really made that appealing to the reader. There are a couple of other slightly less jarring elements due to the era but otherwise this is a rather spooky read. The murders are really chilling and Stewart doesn't romanticize the 'ritual' element; they really are sad and awful. 

A good read for a wet and windy Autumn night, when you want to spook yourself just a little, and don't mind some 50s marital advice crowding in to the otherwise readable story. 

The Empusium

 

The Empusium / Olga Tokarczuk
trans. from the Polish by Antonia Lloyd-Jones
New York : Riverhead Books, c2024.
300 p.

Here is Tokarczuk's response to Mann's The Magic Mountain. It takes elements of his book and transforms it into a feminist horror story, of sorts. 

Mieczysław Wojnicz is a young man going to Gorbersdorf, a sanitorium/resort in the Silesian mountains. It's supposed to be a healthy atmosphere, perfect for quick healing of the tubercular. But it's so popular that there is no room in the main building, rather, Mieczysław finds himself in a guesthouse along with two old men and another young resident, Thilo, whom he befriends. They have a gruff local as their landlord, alongside a skulking servant - the only woman in the mix was the landlord's wife but she dies very shortly after Mieczysław  arrives, a situation which haunts him. 

There are many other haunting elements within this story: strange scratchings from the attic, hallucinatory mushrooms growing all around, an intermittent narrative shift to voices that can see all and drift through floors and walls, and the local legends of women who fled their homes years ago and now live mad in the woods devouring young men in season. Also the Tuntschi - reclining female figures built from twigs and leaves and moss in the woods, for the pleasures of itinerant (male) workers. 

Along with the feelings of dread, we have feelings of boredom and lack of focus among the residents; the atmosphere makes it hard for them to concentrate or really grasp the passing of time. We hear their daily routines, their meals, their petty politics and griping, as well as some of the internal struggles that Mieczysław is having. Why won't he undress for his doctor? And why does every discussion or argument between guesthouse residents end up denigrating women? Tokarczuk takes words and arguments directly from many of the "great minds" of literature, who she lists in the end, to cobble together these statements about women never being enough. 

But this fixation on dualism is upended both in discussions between Mieczysław & his doctor ("the vision of the world as black and white is a false and destructive vision") and by Mieczysław's nature itself. The ending is a breath of fresh air, the healing kind that Mieczysław  went to Gorbersdorf to find in the first place.

Like some of her other works, this one is a bit fragmentary and requires the reader to be comfortable with not knowing exactly what's going on at all times. But although it can feel slow in parts, it's worth the journey. 

Medusa by Martine Desjardins

 

Medusa / Martine Desjardins
trans. from the French by Oana Avasilchioaei
Vancouver, BC: Talon Books, 2022, c2020.
208 p.

This is another story of a girl with unusual powers, but this time it's the power to kill men just by looking them in the eyes. It's written by Martine Desjardins, a Quebecois writer I really like; I've read all of her work which has been translated into English so far. 

Some I've liked more than others; this is one of the darker ones. They are all slightly off-kilter, which is what I appreciate about her work. In this one, our main character is a rejected daughter, the youngest of three, who has been called Medusa for so long she can't recall what her actual name is. Her family keeps her locked away, where she never looks up beyond her veil of hair -- her oracular deformities can kill. 

And then her family decides to commit her to the Atheneum, an Institute for young girls with various "malformations" -- an isolated institution on the shores of a deep lake filled with jellyfish. Medusa is so terrifying, however, that she doesn't even become a student, instead being assigned to housekeeping. She is clever, though, and befriends other students even while the school's Benefactors play their twisted games with the girls. 

There is plenty of misogyny and body shame going on in this book, with women's bodies pathologized and most of the men ridiculous and petty. Medusa hasn't even seen her own eyes, being too terrifying to examine. But when she runs away and meets a minor crook who takes her in and isn't afraid of her at all, she begins to feel more agency over her own life and body. And we finally find out what exactly the nature of her oracular abominations is. 

The language in this book is elaborate, intricate, almost Victorian but in a macabre way. We have a very eloquent narrator, who describes her surroundings and the quirks of those around her frankly, sparing no-one. It's a strange story, with ornate cruelties and everyday sadism. But if you like this style of dark gothic with feminist overtones, written in curliqued prose, you'll definitely want to give this a go! 

A Magical Girl Retires

A Magical Girl Retires / Park Seolyeon
trans. from the Korean by Anton Hur
NY: HarperVia, 2024, c2022.
147 p.

Someone mentioned this on IG and I thought it sounded fun - and my library had it as an ebook! So I read it :) 

It was okay - a little short with a bit of an abrupt conclusion, but still a fun read. It's steeped in a timely setting: the main character, a 29 year old woman, has lost her job during the pandemic and is facing mounting credit card debt and climate anxiety. She decides to jump off a bridge in Seoul. 

But her guardian angel rescues her -- actually it's Ah Roa, a clairvoyant magical girl on a mission to find the greatest magical girl of all time. Usually magical girls are discovered much younger, but our heroine might just be a late bloomer, and the GOAT. 

As her life is upended and she begins to meet other magical girls and learn the tricks of the trade, she's faced with an end-of-the-world scenario that she manages to deal with almost accidentally, driven by her fear of Ah Roa's imminent destruction (there's a little side romantic theme going on there too). And she discovers her particular talent at the vital moment. But also wonders if she really wants these powers or not. 

As noted, the ending is a bit sudden or abrupt, at least to me. I wasn't positive I fully understood her powers. But the overarching story is entertaining and creative, and brings up lots of serious topics in an engaging and frothy way. A short but rewarding read.