Jay

Steal Like an Artist, although it's a relatively short book, packs a lot of information and insight into it. The chapters are divided into smaller sections–almost like bullet points–to keep things succinct and to the point, and because of that, the book felt like a fun and lighthearted read. To condense the long list of ideas contained within it into one simple sentence: Steal like an artist is a book on how to keep creating things, whether those things be art, books, or even a business, and improving your skills in that. Kleon starts with telling us that we should all “steal like artists,” as the title suggests, so that we may move from imitation to emulation–like a painter copying the greats. He then goes on to provide more personal insight, like how we should be creating the things we want to see or how side projects are one of the most important things to have.

While I was already doing a lot of what the book suggests in terms of taking from the artists and the world around me, it gave me new ideas of things I could take note of and just how to go about that. For example, there's one section of the book where he talks about several musicians and artists that always kept spare paper and pens on them so that they could be sure to write down or sketch everything of importance–which really means anything that sparks some kind of inspiration. In another part, which I mentioned before, Kleon says to write what you want to read, which was essentially the mentality I had with my personal writing projects already. As a writing tutor, however, using some of the ideas he shares can be a bit tricky because the very nature of them requires creative writing, but there is one idea in particular that really stuck out as helpful: good writing comes from being hands on. Kleon notes that in his college courses, where everything was in a 12 point Times New Roman font, his writing was awful, but once he started including analog tools in the process, it felt better and more fun. This, I think, applies well to tutoring. It can be tricky to get an idea to stick with a student when they can't really get their hands on it.

The book itself feels a lot like a set of notes, with doodles scribbled in the margins and messy ideas that all connect to each other in some way or another, on how to be a creative, and that's something I really like about it, though I recognize that's definitely not for everyone. I also appreciate how personal a lot of this is. Often when reading things by successful people on how to be successful, they stand on this strange, disconnected high horse, like they're silently telling you that success is some kind of pipe dream, except for people like them. Austin Kleon, on the other hand, goes out of his way to tell stories of his own failures and explain that even though he has become a successful creative–so long as your standard for success there is the ability to create–he, too, has been in the shoes of the reader. He goes so far as to say that he is sharing things he still uses or thinks about to this day, so rather than getting the usual “I used to do this before I achieved success” talk, it feels like we're getting a much more honest view of creativity.

I think if I were to recommend this book to anyone, it'd have to be someone who thinks roughly the same way I do due to the format of the book. I enjoy how messy and short the ideas are; they keep my attention. I also think that there's a particular mentality behind this book that's only really useful to people who find writing or art to be a necessary creative outlet. For me, personally, I know that I would never be able to go without the ability to write, or even just come up with new ideas, and I think that's the mentality that the author has, too. In short, I would be hesitant to recommend this book to people only because the likelihood of them liking it to the same extent that I do is limited by how much the way they think of art and creativity aligns with the author.

I knew that as a queer autistic person with religious trauma, this book was going to hit close to home, but what I wasn't expecting was for it to do everything justice. Everything from Benji's transness, to his religious trauma, to even the body horror–which I was especially a fan of–felt like it was done well.

What I really appreciated, though, was Nick's characterization. Too often I've been excited by the promise of an autistic character only to be let down by the way they were represented–often in infantilizing and invalidating ways. It was like a breath of fresh air to see someone just like me, who stimmed and had trouble speaking, without seeing them be treated like a child or the butt of the joke. And I will admit that there were parts of Nick's characterization that had me crying in the best way possible.

I wish I could sit here and recall everything I loved about this book, but I think it'd take too long and I'm not sure anyone would read my ramblings about metaphors, religious imagery, and the fine (essentially nonexistent) line between divinity and monstrosity that I love so much. But if there's one take away I want anyone who is reading this review to have it's this: I loved this book and everything about it, and, even though I'm not the type to reread things, I know for a fact that I plan on picking it up again in the future.

“To love is to devour.”

I wish I could put into words how much I adored this book. It hit on so many things I adore in horror: love and obsession, vampirism, and plenty of tragedy to go around. Alexis Henderson's descriptions are so vividly brutal, and it makes for a beautiful novel with some really fascinating characters (Lisavet, in particular. I'd read a whole book just about her, if I'm being honest). It's reminiscent of Carmilla when it comes to style and storytelling, and I'd definitely recommend it to anyone who loves that story.

I wasn't too sure I would like this book when I started it (and honestly, there were a couple spots during the book where it lost me for a minute), but I ended up really enjoying it. I'm not usually one for historical fiction, but the way early modern medicine is written in this is so interesting, which is what really kept me hooked–well, that and the bizarre mystery that unfolded incredibly slowly. That slowness isn't really bad, though. It just leans more gothic than contemporary, which I'm a fan of

Honestly, I really wanted to like this. I'd heard really interesting things about it, and it explores a lot of interesting themes. But the problem is that despite the interesting themes, the jokes made were often either uncomfortable (ie: workplace harassment) or underwhelming. And when the problem wasn't the jokes not landing, it was simply the writing. I kept waiting for it to get to the good part, and before I knew it, the final monologue was happening and I sat there thinking “okay, and?” It feels almost unfinished in a way I can't really explain, but I really wish it didn't. I hoped for a lot from this play, and the fact I didn't get much from it at all was a let down.