On August 12, 2022, Salman Rushdie was scheduled to give an author talk at the Chautauqua Institute in upstate New York. During his introduction, Rushdie was attacked onstage and stabbed multiple times, including in the eye, hand and chest. The surprising attack drew the spotlight back onto Rushdie, whose novel The Satanic Verses caused Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini to issue a fatwā in 1989 that called for the death of Rushdie. This story has been covered by all of the major news outlets, but the news doesn’t inspect the reason we all know Salman Rushdie in the first place: his writing. In this episode, we’re looking at Salman Rushdie’s works and their relationship to the greater world of magical realism, a genre that every reader has encountered, often without knowing it. Though we’ve touched on magical realism during previous episodes of Booklovers, we’re more deeply inspecting the genre, its historical context, and the way readers expect to encounter it. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s role in Hobbs and Shaw is also discussed, primarily by Jess and Carmanita, as a modern day iteration of John Henry. Mr. The Rock, if you’re listening…

It isn’t just rare for an Amazon film to be released on DVD, it’s virtually unheard of. So when the 2019 film Sound of Metal entered the catalog of the Criterion Collection and was slated for physical release, Jess knew we had to highlight it. Sound of Metal reflects the deterioration of hearing for a avant-garde metal drummer, which leads to the deterioration of both his job and his relationship with his bandmate/partner. While Ruben struggles to find a way in his newly deaf world, he meets roadblock after roadblock, from financial problems to difficulties accessing medical care and a struggle to even find a place to stay, especially after giving up his beloved RV to pay for Cochlear impants. We wanted to compare Sound of Metal with another recent film about characters with disabilities, Give Me Liberty. Also shot in 2019, Give Me Liberty follows a day of comic and manic errors in the life of a medical transport driver, whose position requires him to wrangle those with disabilities and, inadvertently, his extremely Russian family to get them to a funeral for his aunt. Give Me Liberty also puts up roadblock after roadblock, sometimes literally, as chaos ensues both inside and outside the transport van. Through their cinematography, editing and sound design, both films provide a white-knuckle ride through the worlds of their main characters while applying razor-sharp focus to the real societal issues that people with disabilities face in America. Both films also provide us with two amazing non-human characters: the vans. We’re discussing both those topics, and far more, in this episode.

When a reader thinks about fantasy books, there are probably specific images that are evoked in the reader’s mind. Magic, for sure. Probably some dragons. Hobbits and wild mythologies. Maybe even some fairies, right? None of these things appear in Susanna Clarke’s praised and prized fantasy novel Piranesi, but it is absolutely one of the finest examples of the genre. Following our titular main character has he navigates an endless museum with three floors (one the ocean, one the clouds, and one his home, filled with sculptures and birds of all kinds), Piranesi grasps readers from the start with his curious writing style, earnestness and curiosity. But Piranesi isn’t completely alone in this House, and his curiosity leads to an incredible mystery for the ages. Although fantasy’s stories are often beyond our world, they grasp firmly at many of the same issues we “normal humans” face: mental health is an unfolding theme in Piranesi, as are identity and trust. These core themes transcend the endless hall of clouds and rain, and leave readers with the sense that they too have visited the House, its Beauty immeasurable and its Kindness infinite. In this episode, we’re digging deep into the Women’s Prize-winning novel, analyzing Piranesi’s motives and choices, as well as discussing our personal relationships with fantasy. We’re also offering ideas for the way to visually adapt Piranesi, so CD Projekt, if you’re listening…

Even if you don’t know Tom Perrotta, chances are pretty good that you know Tracy Flick. The indefatigable class-presidential-hopeful first made her mark in the 1998 book and 1999 film Election, going toe to toe with (and ultimately taking down) the teacher that everyone loved but hated her. Now, 20+ years later, Tracy is back, and her plans for Georgetown, law school, Supreme Court clerking, Appeals Court Judge, and so on haven’t exactly gone to plan: her ailing mother’s needs called Tracy back home, law school hit the skids, and now she’s an assistant principal at a middling-at-best high school in suburban New Jersey. When Tracy’s boss announces his retirement, Tracy’s first in line for the promotion, but as we all know, nabbing the role of head honcho is never as easy as it seems. In this episode, we’re discussing Tom Perrotta’s uncanny ability to balance multiple narrators of different ages so well, the themes of regret and looking back on the past that are smartly on display in Tracy Flick Can’t Win, and the hot mess that is local school boards. We’re also sharing who is in our personal high school halls of fame, because why not? Go Vikings, Centurions, and Cardinals!

Detransition, Baby has become an incredibly popular book club book. How can it not be, really? It has all the great hallmarks: a dry sense of humor, creative writing style, and most importantly, messy people living messy lives. Torrey Peters’s first novel explores the sloppy quasi-triangle of Reese, a trans woman who can’t quite get it together; her ex-partner Ames (previously Amy, previously previously James), who detransitioned a few years ago; and Katrina, the woman that Ames has inadvertently knocked up. Right. When Ames realizes that he can parent, but he can’t father, he turns to Reese for help: she’s always wanted a kid and is good with kids, so why not be the third parent in this family? What unfolds from there traces Reese’s relationship with Amy through the past and how Reese is drawn into a world with Katrina’s wants and Ames’s needs. Travelling through the trans femme world of Brooklyn and bringing to light stories about the trans community that have nothing to do with HIV, Detransition, Baby has become an immediate standard of queer literature. In this episode, we’re talking through Detransition, Baby, including the conversation the novel holds around motherhood, womanhood and fatherhood, as well as ideas of gender versus sex, and most importantly: what would these three want if they were on an episode of House Hunters? (It’s happened before!)

Nella Larsen’s slender novel Passing was published in 1929, and has maintained a legacy of lifting the veil on the complicated nature of racial passing. When Irene encounters her friend from childhood, Clare, she’s shocked to find that Clare has made the decision to permanently pass for white: she’s married a white man, lives in a white neighborhood, has what everyone believes is a white daughter, and lives the privileged life of upper middle class whites in 1927. Irene also has light skin, but lives as a Black woman in Harlem, married to a Black man with dark complexion and raising two Black sons. As the two women’s lives intersect, Irene marvels at Clare’s ability to pass and her brazenness to appear among Black communities, where she may be recognized. As Clare spirals ever closer to Irene and the distance between them blurs, both women unwittingly are dragged into the gravity of a tragic end. On this episode, we’re discussing Larsen’s quick classic, looking at it from multiple angles: its modernity, its humor, and its ability to convey what’s happening with imagery that takes root in the mind. we’re also attempting to solve the mystery of how a person can remain fervently enraged up 17 flights of stairs. (So glad we don’t have those kind of walkups in Spartanburg.)

The team breaks down Tom Ripley’s need to be accepted, the loneliness of the con artist on the lam, and Jude Law’s intense tan.

Gage Chandler is a true crime writer working on his next project, that of an unsolved double homicide in the suburban city of Milpitas, California that took place in 1986. Gage is best known for his book about the so-called White Witch, a woman who slaughtered two of her high school students in her apartment during an attempted robbery. Although Gage’s intention is to tell these stories the “right” way, he’s forced to grapple with the negative impact of the lives of those left behind, especially the mother of one of the White Witch’s victims, who demands he listen to her story. Devil House brings to light the difficult question of who has the authority to tell someone else’s story, and whether one can ever truly be capable of doing so, no matter the lengths we go to in order to put ourselves in the shoes of others. Sounds serious, right? It is, but we’re discussing it in typical Booklovers fashion, wandering in and out of additional topics like The Mountain Goats (naturally) and what would have happened if Remus had lived instead of Romulus (less naturally).

You might not know him by name, but you know the aesthetic. A soft warm filter, perfectly framed still shots, vintage-yet-modern costumes, and bubbly but moody music. Since his first film Bottle Rocket in 1996, and especially since the release of 2012’s Moonrise Kingdom, Wes Anderson has become one of the most recognizable film auteurs of the last 25 years. But beyond the looks of Anderson’s films lies a unifying set of themes, especially the meaning of family, both blood and found. In this episode, Jess and Joseph (diehard Anderson fans) discuss their relationships with Anderson’s films, and Carmanita (who watched her first Wes Anderson films specifically for this episode) tries to describe exactly what Tilda Swinton looks like in The Grand Budapest Hotel.

"All people, except this rich cream, living and scraping and fighting and dying, and for what, nothing, the cold millions with no chance in this world." So thinks Rye Dolan, the main character of Jess Walter’s seventh novel, as he navigates the wealthy world and poor underbelly of Spokane, Washington, in 1909. Rye is sucked into the outer edges of history as it’s being made during the free speech riots of 1909 and 1910, an effort by the International Workers of the World to battle against predatory employment agencies who hired people for day work for a daily fee. In most historical fiction we read today, the spotlight falls on the names and stories we know from history (think about the kind of moment World War II is having in fiction), but Walter takes a look an unknown corner of American history with primarily unknown names and voices. While Rye and his older brother Gig aren’t real, 1909 Spokane was, as well as novel character and professional activist Elizabeth Gurley Flynn. With The Cold Millions, Walter analyzes the role we play in history as individuals and what it means to truly be “a part” of history, as well as whose voices we listen to after history has finally been “made”. In this episode, we’re discussing some of the major themes of The Cold Millions, including history but also the way the structure of the novel both subverts & reinforces certain concepts of historical fiction, along with the morality of living in a world that doesn’t love you back. We also drop some great Spokane puns (Spokane should hire us for PR) and discuss our true feelings about epilogues.