When You Can’t Even With A Book: “He Who Searches”

IMG_3327I hate to make this book the poster child for books I couldn’t bring myself to finish, but I really like how this photo came out. And that’s where my disappointment stems from, although I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover. But I couldn’t help it. This was the book next in line for a review, but I didn’t just couldn’t. I’m sorry book gods, I just couldn’t.

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Frustrated Feminist


I didn’t consider myself a feminist until my last two years in college. It’s not that I was afraid of being seen as a overbearing, opinionated, man-hating woman. In all honesty, I just didn’t get feminism. I didn’t see how feminism benefited me. The feminist ideals that were presented to me before those last two years in college were always in connection with white, middle class women, which I am not.

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“Caramelo,” Where Have You Been All My Life?


I’m ashamed to say it, but in my high school days, I thought the only “good” books were written by white male writers. My view of what a “good” book is has changed drastically since then, but at the time, most of what I read for class was written by a white male, so that’s what was ingrained into my reading habits. I had no exposure to any other literature, and I was too naive to seek for more diverse writers on my own. I deeply regret it and even more so after having read Sandra Cisneros’ “Caramelo.”

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Sweet Indeed


I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong, so here it goes: I was wrong about comic books and graphics novels not being a legitimate from of literature. But that’s only because I had never read a comic book. I let the limited amount of words deter me from considering the stories as anything of value. I’ve been trying to change this view of mine, and so I started with Jeff Lemire’s “Sweet Tooth.”

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For Your Inner Stargirl


Twelve-year-old me loved the idea of going against the crowd and being my own person. While everyone in school was wearing Phat Pharm sneakers, I opted for the classic black-and-white chucks. And while everyone was listening to the latest “Now That’s What I Call Music” mix, I was walking home listening to my mom’s bootleg Beatles CD. I didn’t do it for the sake of being different; I did it because it’s what I liked and what I connected to. I didn’t always have the confidence to settle into my interests, however.

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