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Ah. The time has come at last. With the sweet goodbye kiss of the Hot Girl Quarantine Summer, our tan lines begin to fade and our minds go languid with thoughts of cinnamon and clove. Folks, freshly spent from your summers of slut-dom, lay down your SunBum and adjust your VSCO to warmer tones, for Mother Nature hath decreed… Christian Girl Autumn is upon us. As the Boomers would say, the “internet age” has sparked a phenomena of seasonal mascots to match our moods. I have to say, Christian Girl Autumn was new to me this September. Scrolling through endless Draco fanfic and that Vintage Acting Challenge guy on my TikTok For You Page, she appeared, clad in her polyester armor and booties, orange acrylics clenched around her weapon of choice: the Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte.Yes, you’ve seen her too, I’m sure of it. The stock photos that seem to hold the key to World Peace, the promise of a cozy autumnal hibernation, curled up on your couch reading Red, White, and Royal Blue and watching SNL. My first reaction? Dig out those knee-high combat boots from my middle school Hunger Games days and raid the Target Halloween section. My second reaction: why Christian Girl Autumn? After all, the seasons are secular. So I did a quick google search to find out. Turns out the meme was originally spawned by an NYC college student poking fun at the Martha Stewart esc stereotypes that fill Better Homes and Gardens during the autumnal months. So let’s be clear: Christian Girl Autumn has nothing to do with Christianity. It’s completely satirical, a spin on a stereotype. And I would argue, it is absolutely for everyone. Because friends, how I see it: Christian Girl Autumn is not an exclusive mold we must conform to. No, she’s a state of mind, and way of being that transcends our differences, and lends herself to all of our unique expressions and personal identities. Whether you're reading your Bible or your Tarot Cards, the important thing is that you're taking time to reflect, to surround yourself with comfort. You see, folks, Christian Girl Autumn represents a mental escape, an inner peace. We hide our woes under cable knit, and ward off the bad vibes with Pumpkin Spice Febreeze, and if none of that works, if in the end we get to November, or January and everything outside our frosted windows is still so very bad, well, at least we’ll still have all the pumpkin BS we baked. And denial is sweet isn't it? No, only kidding. We can’t ignore what’s going on around us. We can’t stick our head in our artisanal sourdough starters and block out reality. Because that’s more privileged than our Pumpkin Spice Latte addiction. It is incredibly wrong to think that simply because we want to, we can stop being cognizant of our surroundings, stop working to make things better. But we can remember that all of us are deserving of a breath, especially those of us who’s mental health has been tossed into a blender by an isolating quarantine, by staying at home, by the political atmosphere, by attacks on our loved ones or our own existence and autonomy. So whether or not you choose to clad yourself in plaid and polyester at the pumpkin patch, read up on witchcraft and Fall DIY projects, or even just throw on a pair of Halloween fuzzy socks and drink hot tea, you have a right to reclaim the balance you’ve lost, to be hopeful. Not ignorant, not complacent, not delusional, but hopeful. Because we’re all dealing with a lot right now. And really, I think we’re all looking for a sign from the world that things will get better. And that’s what autumn is, what the Christian Girl Autumn meme holds. It's feeling cozy and safe and letting the leaves change as the world takes stock of what it has and lets go of what's dead and weighing us down. It is progress. It is respecting your mental health and your needs. So go ahead, and Hocus Pocus your troubles away for a bit. Recharge this Christian Girl Autumn, and celebrate however you need to in order to find your hopeful spirit again. Because when it's all over, we’re going to need you at your best to put all those infographic sentiments you’ve been reposting into practice. To rake away the leaves. Happy Christian Girl Autumn lovelies, try to stay healthy.

Little white girls have Disney princesses and Hannah Montana to look up to. Teenage white girls use Allie from The Notebook and Rose from Titanic as models for their true love stories. Sure, BIPOC can look up to Disney princesses and dream of having a love story like Allie and Noah's, but still, their stories would never be the same. Little white girls don’t expect to fall in love on a sinking ship or have a small town love affair either, but they still get to watch people who look like themselves fall in love. Not only do little white girls know that they are capable of love and being loved because of TV and movies, but little white boys do too. Where does that leave everyone else? Many young BIPOC lead their lives believing that they will not have a true love story, because people who look like them on TV and in movies don’t either. A lot of the time in TV and movies, characters of color are one dimensional. Asian characters are nerdy and cringey. Black characters are sassy and usually a sidekick best friend. Latina characters are fiery and dramatic. Indigenous characters are so rare, and most of the time, they aren’t even played by actors who are Indigenous themselves. The point is, BIPOC don’t get love stories, and if they’re even a side character, it’s out of tokenism. When LGBTQ+ characters are in love stories, they’re often a sidekick best friend, and they’re almost always white, too. As a result of these stereotypes, BIPOC spend much of their childhoods thinking that the people around them are only attracted to white people. As time goes on, kids are impacted more and more by who they see on their screens everyday, and begin to mirror the stories told there in their own lives. BIPOC kids and teenagers begin to believe that they can’t be smart and funny and pretty at the same time because only white characters got to be all three. Most of the time, people of color characters only filled one of those characteristics out of tokenism. The lack of representation of different races and ethnicities on TV makes BIPOC, especially those who are LGBTQ+, feel unworthy, unlovable, and undeserving of some great story like those characters got. But the thing is, they DO deserve a great story. Everyone does. So we need to be giving those stories to kids who need them, the ones who need to feel like they are lovable. When Never Have I Ever came out on Netflix this year, I watched the whole thing, even though I'm probably too old and too mature for it. But the main character, Devi, got a love story. She got a love story that didn't push her Indian culture to the side, one that acknowledged her ethnicity and her want to feel lovable simultaneously. She was unlikeable sometimes, but it was real and she was everything I was in middle school. Devi is what I needed when I was in middle school, to tell me that I was normal, and worthy of love and drama and teenager things. TV and movies need to let BIPOC know that they are normal, and worthy of love and drama and teenager things. The lack of representation allows many BIPOC teenagers to live their lives feeling unworthy, whether that be of a depth in personality, love, or a career. In reality, we're not one dimensional. We're very real people, with wants and interests and dreams and love. Putting us in a show to say you ticked a box isn't enough. Give us stories. We need them. And we have them, just like the rest of you.

The past seven months have been a hailstorm of change and upheaval. Not only in the United States, but all around the world. Some of this change was sorely needed. Some of it still stings a little each time we reach to grab a mask on our way out our front doors. A lot of this change may have been hard to follow, especially if you’re trapped in your childhood home doing college online, like a lot of us are. The change that quickly spiraled into a global movement after the brutal murder of George Floyd by Derek Chauvin was certainly a change a long time coming. But if you’re like me, currently doing school from your suburban home town, it can be hard to feel connected to that change. So, if you’re interested in learning more about the history of the Black Lives Matter movement, racism in American, and the lasting impacts of slavery; here is a list of five books (both fiction and non fiction) to read while you’re studying from home. When They Call You a Terrorist: a Black Lives Matter Memoir by Patrisse Khan-Cullors and Asha Bandele This non-fiction memoir follows the story of Patrisse Cullors, one of the founding members of the Black Lives Matter movement. It not only explains the origins of the movement itself, but also the life story of Cullors and her childhood in Los Angeles. This is the perfect book to hand to your parents when statements like “a few bad apples” start getting thrown around at the dinner table during an argument about the criminal justice system. The story of Patrisse’s mentally ill brother, Monte, and how he was mistreated and tortured by the LAPD is truly heartbreaking. Cullors manages to provide information on the history of racism and police brutality in America while also telling the story of her journey to becoming a founding member of the Black Lives Matter movement. It’s quite the page turner, and an extremely informative read. The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander This non-fiction read seems to find it’s way onto almost every list of books to read on the history of race in America, and for good reason. Michelle Alexander captures the history of the United States criminal justice system and how it has targeted black men, destroyed communities of color, and upheld racial hierarchies in a post-colonial world. If you’re looking for a book to read to educate yourself on how racism has survived throughout the ages, then this is the book for you. The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett The first fiction novel on the list, Brit Bennett’s 2020 bestseller, is just as important and educational as any non-fiction book. It follows the story of two twin sisters who grow up in a southern, black community and run away at sixteen. Ten years later one twin now lives with her daughter in the same, southern town, while the other twin passes for white with her husband knowing nothing of her origins. We, as the reader, get to experience the intersection of their daughter’s storylines. This novel is not only a page turning story, but also an account of American racism from the 1950s through the 1990s. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi Another story of two sisters, this novel follows their journey from Ghana to Mississippi. Taking place in the eighteenth century, the book tells the story of each sister and how their lives take diverging paths. Effia marries a rich Englishman, living a life of luxury in the Cape Coast Castle. Esi will be imprisoned in this castle and sold to a life of slavery in the southern United States. Gyasi goes on to follow the lives of these sisters' descendants through eight generations, down to those living during the Harlem Jazz Age. This is the perfect book for understanding the legacy of slavery through the stories of unforgettable characters. The Color Purple by Alice Walker Now I know what you’re thinking. Every English teacher and their mother has told you to read this book, right? Well, there’s a reason it’s a classic. This 1985 novel tells the story of Celie, whose letters tell the story of her life. Abused by both her father and her husband “Mister,” Celie struggles to define her selfhood. It is only through her righteous rage towards those who have abused her and her relationship with Shug that she is able to finally awaken toward her true identity. This novel is perfect for those looking to read a book about black femininity and sexuality. That’s right! I’m sure you’re english teacher forgot to mention that the relationship between Shug and Celie is more than just platonic. Or maybe that was just mine. Either way, The Color Purple is definitely a book that will keep you on your toes.

When entering the realm of LGBTQ literature it’s easy for readers to find ourselves within the same trap that we often do: being left with or gravitating to narratives centered around white, male stories. Lists of LGBTQ book recommendations often parrot the same titles, ignoring a large swath of literature out there addressing queer women, transgender people, and persons of color. Even in a community that prides itself on its “diversity”, LGBTQ stories are dominated by the same group that governs mainstream literature canon. That’s why I’ll be taking this post to highlight a few novels that venture beyond the stories we’re frequently told. By no means is this list comprehensive, but hopefully it will turn both LGBTQ and allies of the community onto a new range of reads. 1. The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon I admit myself to be biased on this choice, as it ranks as one of my overall favorite books. That being said, Priory of the Orange Tree provides an intricate narrative with its worldbuilding finding a basis in European, Middle Eastern, and Eastern Asian culture, geography, and legend. Priding itself as being a “feminist retelling of Saint George and the Dragon", the book largely focuses on its multiple female protagonists. A split narrative book, Priory finds itself mainly divided between the voices of Ead, a spy in the European-esque House of Berethnet dedicated to protecting the life of its queen in the case of her connection to a century-old legend, and Tane, a dragon rider seas away. Ead can be securely noted as the main protagonist of the story, placing a lesbian of color at the forefront of the story. Other characters are focused on, including a gay man, bisexual woman, and multiple characters of color. While the story is one of fantasy, legend, and political intrigue, sapphic romance plays a large role in its complex narrative. 2. Red, White, & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston Red, White, & Royal Blue focuses on the antagonistic, then friendly, then romantic relationship of the son of the president and heir to the royal throne. Even though it focuses on male characters and the questionable politics of the two countries, the novel is told through the lens of a mixed-race Latinx character and rightfully critiques the politics it wields. A friendship spurred on by a public fight between the two, the bond between the president’s son Alex Claremont-Diaz and the royal Prince Henry grows genuine. A story tackling homophobia, politics, and race, it is a must-read. 3. The Henna Wars by Adiba Jaigirdar This YA story focuses on the rivalry between two high school girls in their school’s business competition. Nishat, the story’s Bangladeshi protagonist, decides to do henna work for the competition only for her crush Flavia, who is black and Brazilian, and her white cousin Chyna to appropriate this practice for her own gain. A complex romance handling racism, cultural appropriation, homophobia, familial disapproval, and mixed-race identity, The Henna Wars dares to tackle issues often absent in queer romances, particularly those of the young adult genre. I won’t spoil anything, but the characters all learn and grow in their own way in order to connect with one another and recognize the mistakes and sacrifices they make along the way in order to beat one another. 4. Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado A set of short stories by author Carmen Maria Machado, every short story presents a narrative with a different female protagonists, many of which involving queer elements. A set of stories that often incorporate magical realism, Machado writes of women struggling in different ways with their patriarchal society. As many of these stories deal with issues of mental health, abuse, and other triggering elements, one may approach it with their own level of comfortability.

If you’ve seen the Devil Wears Prada, as not doing so would be robbing your soul, you have at least a small understanding of what the fashion industry can be like. Anne Hathaway aside, the movie’s true anchor is Meryl Streep’s character: a play off of the fabulously cold Anna Wintour, the artistic director of Conde Nast and Editor in Chief of Vogue. If you don’t know who Anna Wintour is, don’t blame yourself too hard. You’d have to be slightly obsessed with pop culture and fashion to fall into the realm where her name bears such heavy weight. To fill you in, she’s quite the cunning, British fashion mogul and she’s built her entire empire in her sunglasses (she never takes them off). Anna Wintour and Queen Elizabeth Even if you don’t know her name, you may have heard of a small get-together she throws every year: the Met Gala. Of course, small is an understatement; the guest list invites about 600-700 A-list celebrities and designers annually. Each year, the Met Gala has a theme created by its co-chairs, who Anna Wintour appoints. Last year’s co-chairs included Harry Styles, Lady Gaga, and Serena Williams. This year, co-chairs Emma Stone, Meryl Streep, Lin Manuel Miranda, and Nicolas Ghesquière (a fashion designer from Louis Vuitton) have chosen “About Time: Fashion and Duration” as their theme. This theme, according to Ghesquière, is inspired by French philosopher Henri Bergson’s concepts on la durée, or duration of time. The theme will explore how fashion associates itself with the past, present, and future. Alongside the red carpet, the actual exhibition in the museum will include Virginia Woolf as a ghost narrator. So, who should you look out for? Easy: Rihanna. In general, always look out for Rihanna. But, in terms of the Met Gala, she always steals the spotlight. In 2015, she donned a 55 pound, hand tailored, brilliantly golden, Guo Pei gown which could only be topped by her outfit for 2018’s Met Gala: a pimped out and bejeweled, Pope-turned pop-star. The latter was the same year she was a co-chair for the event. Zendaya is also one to look out for. Though a newer addition to the guest list, Zendaya’s parrot print, Dolce and Gabbana gown from 2017 was a greatly feted look that proved her a worthy addition to Wintour’s extravaganza. And, if you don’t already know, she wore a custom Tommy Hilfiger, Cinderella-inspired ball gown that literally lit up whilst she walked down the carpet. Zendaya’s stylist dressed up as Cinderella’s godmother and waved a wand over the dress to illuminate it. This look was undoubtedly inspired by a light-up gown by Zac Posen that Claire Danes wore in 2016, but the magic in Zendaya’s revelation was infinitely better. It’s difficult to deny the event’s pretentiousness. Collecting hundreds of some of the most celebrated and glamorized figures in the country and giving them a free dinner to discuss the art that they’re wearing isn’t the most lowkey of events. However, it is important to say that the Met Gala has made itself an apex of both fashion and pop culture. If not to see your favorite celebrities play Halloween for an extra night of the year, check out photos from the Met Gala to see the direction in which art and fashion are going and how they may even make statements about the strangeness of time.

*Editor's Note: piece contains mentions of rape and related topics This past month I attended one of the events from the Visting Writers Series at AU hosted by the Creative Writing MFA program. Christa Parravani was featured and spoke about her past memoir, Her, and shared part of the book she is currently writing. She spoke highly of the literature faculty at American and discussed her own experience as a professor at West Virginia University. I had previously read some of Parravani’s work in my LIT-107 Creative Writing class about the death of her twin sister prior to her twin sister’s rape. I already appreciated her style of writing and I learned to love it, even more, when I heard her read aloud. The excerpt she read from her new book was about her experience with abortion rights in West Virginia. West Virginia is infamously known for its conservative stance on abortion and this sentiment was echoed in Parravani’s experience. Upon discovering she was pregnant with her third child, she attempted to obtain an abortion and was essentially told that this was not possible. Parravani worried about her reputation as both a professor, a writer and a mother of three. She elegantly intertwined data about healthcare for new and expecting mothers (or lack thereof) in West Virginia with her own experience. The audience was taken aback when she informed us this was her first draft. Parravani followed her reading by answering questions from students and professors. One of the questions asked how she would explain this book to her infant son whom she tried to abort. She answered by explaining that she was writing this book for her daughters, not her son. She said that she will tell him he is loved but she felt an obligation to write this book in response to the restrictive abortion laws in America. Specifically, she wrote the excerpt she shared in protest to Amendment 1- an amendment in West Virginia further limiting abortion rights although the amendment ended up passing. The author was also asked about our permission to tell certain stories and what it means not to be able to tell a story. She answered that writers must give themselves permission to write their stories because no one else will. She felt that she needed to use her platform to discuss this debilitating issue in America. Although it is a difficult, even uncomfortable, subject to address, Parravani understands that it needs to be spoken about and she is one of the few women who is willing to share her story. I greatly enjoy Parravani’s work as she speaks from a place of truth. Her article about abortion, called “Life and Death in West Virginia” can be found online at Guernica Magazine’s website. I would highly recommend her memoir as well.

For the past few weeks my literature class has been reading the book Dodging and Burning by John Copenhaver. The book is a mystery that highlights queer culture and how queer people were treated in the 1940’s by looking at the relationship between two boys: Robbie and Jay. If you were to picture the book cover, you might imagine an obviously queer title covering a few pastel colors or abstract design. There would be a line towards the bottom that talks about how revolutionary this book is in queer culture today. It would be extremely obvious that the book you are about to read contains queer characters. John Copenhaver decided to do something a little different with this novel. Instead of the word “queer” plastered all over, the cover shows a picture of a murdered victim (something commonly found on the covers of mystery novels) and the title. No bright colors, rainbows, or inspirational quotes are present. Because of this, many of the people in my class, including myself, did not realize the characters in the book were queer until almost halfway through. Most of us couldn’t believe that a book, one that was not clearly advertised as queer fiction, contained a gay couple and history surrounding queer culture. This got me thinking; Why is it so rare for a character to be queer in genre fiction that isn’t clearly marked as queer fiction? Why does there have to be a category for queer fiction at all? Shouldn’t it all just be considered genre fiction? If we put things like queerness into its own category, aren’t we just promoting the view that queer people are not normal? Why do we put queer literature on a table by itself in the corner of a bookstore? The problem lies, not in the fact that a character’s homosexuality isn’t mentioned in the beginning of a book, but in the reader and their assumption from the get-go that every character is heterosexual. Society has ingrained the idea into all of our heads that people are straight until proven otherwise. This is problematic, because it results in erasure of queer people in society. If everyone is straight until proven queer, then is anyone really queer? It makes it seem less natural, and it adds to the idea that people choose to be queer, instead of being born queer. In order for our culture to progress into being more accepting and understanding of queer culture, queerness needs to be normalized. The end goal should be a society that does not assume the sexuality of a person. It should be a society that does not view queerness as a choice or need it to be proven. In order to achieve this goal, we as readers need to take the first step by not assuming the characters in the books we read are straight. Instead, we need to keep an open mind, and put our heteronormative culture behind us.

You know how in movies, people die, but then come back to life soulless, without morals, and unhinged? That is Tik Tok in a nutshell: Vine, but without a soul and unhinged. Vine was full of millennial humor that has now become somewhat obsolete. Tik Tok and Gen Z culture are on the rise today and the result is very ... interesting. The popular platform allows you to use music, quotes from movies, weird editing, and unique filters to make a wide variety of memes and videos. Tik Tok seems much more versatile than Vine, despite their similarities because Tik Tokers are more willing to push the envelope of the socially acceptable. Tik Tok users are truly willing to do and say anything. This does not necessarily mean their content is negative, sometimes it is just really weird. Humor and memes, nowadays, are often a mode of coping with our rapidly changing political and physical environment. And to an extent, are also made to come to terms with our distinct collective experiences. That being said, there are things on Tik Tok that make you wonder what has become of the world. Many kinds of memes appear on Tik Tok that are just generally funny and relatable like cute animal videos, digs at the Twilight movie franchise, and the "Ok Boomer" tag. This content does not set the platform apart. However, what does distinguish the app is its ability to capture the Gen Z (and also somewhat the Millennial) experience within a single platform. Many other social media communities are full of Boomers and Millenials and therefore provide only a diluted version of different generations and their experiences. What’s interesting is that Tik Tok is almost entirely comprised of members of Gen Z. Circulating throughout the app are distressing trends of speaking about depression, lack of disability rights, abuse, fear of climate change, and even darker subjects like school shootings. All of these topics are veiled by and coped with through humor. Tik Tok is also a place where young people explore their identities, whether that be cultural, social, or otherwise, through funny videos like growing up with [insert type of parent here] or I quit being [insert identity here]. Overall, I think every generation has an art form and Tik Tok is the art form of Gen Z kids. It’s a platform where Gen Z grapples with their past and come to terms with their future. All packaged within a funny video, of course.

Every Tuesday my friends and I attend the open mic night at the Busboys and Poets 14th and V location. As we file into the dimly lit room, with walls covered in murals honoring great artists of color through history, we have the privilege of hearing from a vast array of artists that share their respective talents and works. But the nights I treasure most are when Charity Blackwell hosts the event. Charity Joyce Blackwell is a D.C. local, and Trinity University graduate, who has made a name for herself in the world of spoken word poetry: a genre of poetry intended for performance. Because of her finesse, confidence, and overall captivating presence, Charity has also expanded her career to encompass hosting events such as the Poetry Slam's Out Loud National Competition, and the weekly open mic nights at Busboys and Poets that my friends and I frequent. Charity’s work has such notability, that she has performed her poems for BCC News, The Kennedy Center, The Lincoln Theater, and many more. Most recently, she filmed a TED Talk that will be available for public viewing at a later date. You can find out more about her and her work on her website charityjoyceblackwell.com, or through her instagram, @charityjoyceblackwell. When Charity takes the stage there is no mistaking her talent. The poems that I have witnessed her perform are based off of the relationships she had with her parents who both passed away over the last four years. Despite the cataclysmic loss of her family, Charity has captured the essence of her parents, and the lessons they have taught her, through her poems. She honors her father through a poem that is an extended metaphor about him cheering her on at the sidelines of a basketball game, and she honors her mother through a poem about the act of giving. In the poem honoring her mother, she recalls that her mother valued giving to others. She recounts a time when her father criticized her mother for giving money to homeless people because “you don’t owe them anything.” To which her mother replied “who am I to judge?” Charity recalls that her mother told her to give because “baby this world will eat you alive,” and that is how she got her name: Charity. From this revolutionary up and coming artist, we can all learn to give a little more of ourselves to help our communities, as she does. Whether that be through acts of kindness, or through poetry that touches a room full of people every Tuesday night.

A grey stained plywood dropbox sits atop yellow-lined rusted metal bleachers in the middle of a white wall room. Pick up the pen, attached by cuffed chain links to the side of the box, just next to the entry slot where stories slip into a pile of collective memories. Write a significant moment that occurred around a basketball hoop. Located right behind Capital One Arena, the National Building Museum quietly calls for appreciation in its smooth red brick stature. Previously known as the headquarters for the United States Pension Bureau, the building can be identified as home to many political affairs, cultural events, and office meetings over the past thirty-two years. Styled after two Roman palaces, the interior atrium design is nothing short of breathtaking with natural skylights illuminating the marble columns and gold detailing. Though the building has served many purposes, it is widely known for housing a variety of art exhibits, alternating every few months to display a wide range of artistry. While the building itself could be an exploration of imagination and architecture, one simple second-floor exhibit room caught my attention more than any of the intricate archways and precisely placed fountains: HOOP. “A photograph of someone making a great shot or a great move takes place in a fraction of a second, but an image of that same court taken without people is about a period of time in the layered history of a place. It is about the people who played on that court, who built that community, many of whom have come and gone.” -Bill Bamberger* Just one fairly small room. White walls. Two, maybe three, photographs per wall. I had no idea what kind of power and reminiscence one small room could hold. As a frequent-flyer to east coast city art museums, I tend to spend my miles quickly and explore at a fast-walk pace, to say the least. This particular room held me grounded, rooted in my own memories and intrigued by the various perspectives captured through color, light, location, and distance. Some familiar, others foreign, the photographs showcase basketball hoops and courts across the world with no human activity to be found. Barren deserts, tropical islands, no nets, graffitied backboards, every hoop has a different story. The nature of the exhibit of which grasped my attention and curiosity far beyond expectations was the ability of the photographers to create durable human connection and feelings of humanistic interactions with every place, without portraying any actual people or subjects within the frames beyond the hoop. The brisk breeze and rough grass of my grandparent's backyard in the transitioning months between fall and winter felt as immediate as the portrait in front of me, though the last time I experienced or even saw that worn down, hanging net basketball hoop was before I turned thirteen. Somehow, no matter where it exists, the ability of a single symbol to grant universal experiences and represent various identities, histories, and personal implications astounds me and comforts me all at once. If you’re looking for a piece of home in downtown, District of Columbia, a stroll through the halls of the National Building Museum could bring a refreshing perspective from a single room. *Bill Bamberger is a featured photographer and author in Fortune, The New York Times, The Washington Post, and holds exhibits all over the United States featuring topics of modern social and cultural issues.

Rainbow Rowell is back with a newly released sequel to her 2015 fiction novel: Carry On. This new book: Wayward Son is thought to be book two of an intended three-part series. The titles are reminiscent of Kansas’ hit song, Carry On Wayward Son, which begs the question of the title of Rowell’s next book. Although the third book begs more questions than it answers, her fans will appreciate any new content she writes, even with a four year waiting time in between the publications. The first book in the series reads as a knock off Harry Potter. The story is also set in England and features the story of three teenagers with magic abilities who need to defeat a villain reminiscent of Voldemort: the Humdrum. However, by the end of this book, I had learned to appreciate Rowell’s new take on a modern fiction novel about magic. Carry On reminded me of the fiction books I read as a child while including content meant for more mature audiences. The story touches on many adult themes and the characters curse often. The main romance in the story is a gay couple, which contributes to the highly contemporary based storyline. This style of writing allows for an easy, even childlike read, despite not being appropriate for younger audiences. It was perfect for me when I first began reading her series at age fourteen. However, I worried that I would no longer be interested in Rowell’s story four years later, come the release of Wayward Son. Luckily, as soon as I picked up the second book, I found I was incorrect. Wayward Son takes place after the final battle in Carry On (in, I believe: Harry Potter book eight) and depicts the three main characters on vacation to America. I was happy to find that I easily became immersed in the book and was reminded of my love of the characters. Just as Rowell’s first book made me nostalgic for childhood fiction, this novel did the same, although I was now brought back to my fourteen-year-old self reading Carry On. Although I have yet to finish reading the second part of the series, it has been the first book I’ve read so feverishly in a long time. I was not expecting to love this book as much as I do, but Rainbow Rowell seems to know her audience well. She perfectly encapsulated my favorite parts of the first novel and structured the plot to ensure her readers would “carry on” reading. It is evident that she listened to her fans, writing this book to cater to their wishes. I would recommend this series for anyone who misses the simplicity of their childhood fiction novels or anyone who wants an engaging, low-effort pleasure read.

The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn is a New York Times Bestseller, Stephen King-approved thriller that is soon to be a major motion picture. So… why didn't I enjoy it that much? I have a problem: every time I go to Barnes & Noble I buy a book. It does matter how close I am to a used-book store, how much cheaper I know it is online or even as a paperback, or how many books I own that I have not read yet. I will always buy books. The Woman in the Window is written from the perspective of Anna Fox, a woman with agoraphobia who spends her days spying on her neighbors. The drama stems from the Russells move in across the street and what Anna discovers during her voyeurism. What originally attracted me to this novel was the promise of an unreliable narrator. I love reading books that bend your sense of reality. Also, if the Stephen King said it was worth a read, then who was I to deny myself the opportunity. Yet, when I finally finished reading the novel, I was left unsatisfied like I had been tricked somehow. With each twist and turn my reactions stayed stagnant. There are two reasons I believe this book left me unsatisfied. One: The Suspense In the times there was supposedly suspense, I felt no great sense of uneasiness. While I was paying careful attention to detail just in case, I felt as if nothing was really happening or encouraging me to continue reading. In fact, when there was a sense of uneasiness from occasions of dramatic irony- when we the readers can infer something the characters can not- I just felt sad, as if I was experiencing Anna’s own emotions and frustrations. I can say that I felt sympathy and sadness throughout the whole time I was reading the novel. Additionally, there were several “twists” in this novel. The change from “suspense” to a dramatic twist was, while still containing interesting content, not very shocking and did not really make me question the novel and what Anna had portrayed. To me, these smaller twists made sense. It was as if Finn was expecting me to question reality when it seemed very straightforward. When the bigger twist came, I was expecting it because I knew something had to happen and had somewhat of an idea of what that something was. The actual content of the bigger twist did catch me off guard but not in a good way. Because Anna’s perspective painted my reality, along with the fact that she was the only character I truly cared about, the reveal came out of nowhere because I do not feel as if we were really asked to question that specific point. The ending, because of the twists, felt very rushed like Finn was trying to wrap everything up. It was disorienting in a way it was not intended to be… which could be said about most of the reveals in the novel. Two: The Author I would like the preface this section by saying that I have nothing against A.J. Finn. Despite my qualms with the novel, the writing was very good and I cannot deny that I was invested in it. The Woman in the Window is a very well-written first novel. However, I do believe this bias caused some of my confusion and issues with the book. After I had finished reading, I was bewildered. It was when I turned to the back of the book and saw a picture of the author that things began to make sense. A.J. Finn is a man. More specifically, Finn is a man writing from the perspective of a woman. This explains certain parts that left me confused, parts that seemed off, and ideas that only felt half-developed. Finn was unable to truly encapsulate the female experience, especially the parts that would have made this novel more thrilling (and frightening to a female audience). The perpetual cautiousness women have to practice would have definitely made Anna’s story uniquely terrifying, especially when amplified by her paranoia. It is also important to note that my experience as a woman guided my interpretation of this text. In the end, even though this novel left me frustrated and dissatisfied, if this book sounds interesting to you, please do not hesitate to give it a read.