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Ivana A. | Diary of Difference (1171 KP) rated Music From Another World in Books
Aug 3, 2020
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<img src="https://diaryofdifference.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/Book-Review-Banner-53.png"/>;
Music From Another World is a powerful and emotional read, about fighting for freedom and acceptance and the amazing feeling when you finally find a crowd where you can really fit in!
<b><i>Synopsis:</i></b>
It’s summer 1977 and closeted lesbian Tammy Larson can’t be herself anywhere. Not at her strict Christian high school. Not at her conservative Orange County church. And certainly not at home, where her ultra religious aunt relentlessly organizes anti gay political campaigns. Tammy’s only outlet is writing secret letters in her diary to gay civil rights activist Harvey Milk… until she has a real-life pen pal who changes everything.
Sharon Hawkins will bond with Tammy over punk music and carefully shared secrets, and soon their letters become the one place she can be honest. The rest of her life in San Francisco is full of lies. The kind she tells for others - like helping her gay brother hide the truth from their mom. But as anti gay fervor in America reaches a frightening new pitch, Sharon and Tammy must rely on their long-distance friendship to discover their deeply personal truths. What they’ll stand for…and who they’ll rise against.
<b><i>My Thoughts: </i></b>
From the very first moment I read the synopsis, I knew I needed to read this book. It seemed filled with 1970's spirit, the movement to be brave and honest. The discussions in this book are through the form of letters or diary entries, which I really enjoyed. This writing style helped me get through the book extremely quickly.
We get to meet the two girls, Tammy and Sharon, both very different, but both struggling with the same issues of being contained in a world where they cannot be themselves. And even though this particular book is about the LGBTQ+ community, I believe this issue also applies to anything else in life, where people feel like they cannot be who they really are. Sometimes it is religion, other times it is political opinions, it could even be different hobbies where the person feels needs to contain in themselves because of the fear they might be frowned upon or laughed at.
<b><i>It is amazing to see how the world has progressed over the years, where people start feeling like they can finally express who they really are. It is not yet ideal, but I have a good feeling we are getting there. There is also the very powerful force of the internet, the advantage people didn't have before, to find people across the globe that share the same beliefs and interests. </i></b>
Music From Another World really moved me, and it brought up various emotions. It talks about the struggles and the reprimands, but it also talks about real happiness and laughter. The amazing feeling when you finally find a crowd that accepts you and where you truly belong. I believe this is the first book with a plot that made me feel so happy, so sad and so angry at the same time.
Thank you to NetGalley and the HQ Team, for sending me an ARC copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
<a href="https://diaryofdifference.com/">Blog</a>; | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/diaryofdifference/">Facebook</a>; | <a href="https://twitter.com/DiaryDifference">Twitter</a>; | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/diaryofdifference/">Instagram</a>; | <a href="https://www.pinterest.co.uk/diaryofdifference/pins/">Pinterest</a>;
<img src="https://diaryofdifference.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/Book-Review-Banner-53.png"/>;
Music From Another World is a powerful and emotional read, about fighting for freedom and acceptance and the amazing feeling when you finally find a crowd where you can really fit in!
<b><i>Synopsis:</i></b>
It’s summer 1977 and closeted lesbian Tammy Larson can’t be herself anywhere. Not at her strict Christian high school. Not at her conservative Orange County church. And certainly not at home, where her ultra religious aunt relentlessly organizes anti gay political campaigns. Tammy’s only outlet is writing secret letters in her diary to gay civil rights activist Harvey Milk… until she has a real-life pen pal who changes everything.
Sharon Hawkins will bond with Tammy over punk music and carefully shared secrets, and soon their letters become the one place she can be honest. The rest of her life in San Francisco is full of lies. The kind she tells for others - like helping her gay brother hide the truth from their mom. But as anti gay fervor in America reaches a frightening new pitch, Sharon and Tammy must rely on their long-distance friendship to discover their deeply personal truths. What they’ll stand for…and who they’ll rise against.
<b><i>My Thoughts: </i></b>
From the very first moment I read the synopsis, I knew I needed to read this book. It seemed filled with 1970's spirit, the movement to be brave and honest. The discussions in this book are through the form of letters or diary entries, which I really enjoyed. This writing style helped me get through the book extremely quickly.
We get to meet the two girls, Tammy and Sharon, both very different, but both struggling with the same issues of being contained in a world where they cannot be themselves. And even though this particular book is about the LGBTQ+ community, I believe this issue also applies to anything else in life, where people feel like they cannot be who they really are. Sometimes it is religion, other times it is political opinions, it could even be different hobbies where the person feels needs to contain in themselves because of the fear they might be frowned upon or laughed at.
<b><i>It is amazing to see how the world has progressed over the years, where people start feeling like they can finally express who they really are. It is not yet ideal, but I have a good feeling we are getting there. There is also the very powerful force of the internet, the advantage people didn't have before, to find people across the globe that share the same beliefs and interests. </i></b>
Music From Another World really moved me, and it brought up various emotions. It talks about the struggles and the reprimands, but it also talks about real happiness and laughter. The amazing feeling when you finally find a crowd that accepts you and where you truly belong. I believe this is the first book with a plot that made me feel so happy, so sad and so angry at the same time.
Thank you to NetGalley and the HQ Team, for sending me an ARC copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
Never Look at the Empty Seats: A Memoir
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A tale of hard work, musical discovery, and faith, Charlie Daniels’s journey has been one of a...
Music biography
Phonics Fun on Farm Educational Learn to Read App
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50% OFF SALE - LAUNCH DISCOUNT TODAY: June 5-30, 2017 ***** WONDERFULLY EDUCATIONAL READING PROGRAM...
Lingokids - English for Kids
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Lingokids is the best English learning app for kids aged 2-8. Now featuring content from Oxford...
Bob Mann (459 KP) rated Battle of the Sexes (2016) in Movies
Sep 29, 2021
Tennis and sex, but without the grunting.
Here’s a good test of someone’s age…. ask the question “Billie-Jean?”. Millennials will probably come back with “Huh?”; those in their 30’s or 40’s might come back with “Michael Jackson!”; those older than that will probably reply “King!”.
“Battle of the Sexes” (which I just managed to catch before it left cinemas) tells the true-life story of US tennis star Billie-Jean King (Emma Stone, “La La Land“). The year is 1973 and Billie-Jean is riding high as the Number 1 female tennis player. She is a feminist; she is married (to hunk Larry – no not that one – King played by Austin Stowell (“Whiplash“, “Bridge of Spies“)); …. and she is also attracted to women, not something she has yet acted on. That all changes when her path crosses with LA-hairdresser Marilyn (Andrea Riseborough, “Birdman“, “Oblivion”).
But this is a side story: the main event is a bet made by aging ex-star Bobby Riggs (Steve Carell, “Foxcatcher“); that – even at his age – as a man he could beat the leading female tennis player of the day.
The film is gloriously retro, starting with the old-school 20th Century Fox production logo. And it contains breathtakingly sexist dialogue by writer Simon Beaufoy (“Everest“, “The Full Monty”). Surely men couldn’t have been so crass and outrageous in the 70’s? Sorry ladies, but the answer is yes, and the film is testament to how far women’s rights have come in 50 years.
This is a tour de force in acting from both Emma Stone and Steve Carell, particularly the latter: a scene where Carell tries to re-engage with his estranged wife (Elisabeth Shue, “Leaving Las Vegas”) is both nuanced and heart-breaking. Stone’s performance is also praiseworthy, although it feels slightly less so as it is an impersonation of a (relatively) well-known figure: this is extremely well-studied though, right down to her strutting walk around the court which I had both forgotten and was immediately again reminded of.
One of my favourite movie awards are the Screen Actor’s Guild (SAG) “cast” awards that celebrate ensemble performances, and here is a film that should have been nominated (it unfortunately wasn’t). Andrea Riseborough; Natalie Morales (as fellow tennis player Rosie Casals); comedian Sarah Silverman (“A Million Ways to Die in the West“), almost unrecognisable as the brash publicist Gladys Heldman; Bill Pullman as LTA head Jack Kramer; the great Alan Cumming (“The Good Wife”) as the team’s flamboyant, gay, costume designer; Lewis Pullman as Riggs’s son Larry; Jessica McNamee (magnetic eyes!) as King’s Australian tennis nemesis Margaret Court. All bounce off the leads, and each other, just beautifully.
Cinematography by Linus Sandgren (“La La Land“) and editing by Pamela Martin (“Little Miss Sunshine”) unite to deliver one of the most sexually charged haircuts you are ever likely to see on the screen. For those put off by this aspect of the storyline, the “girl-on-girl action” is pretty tastefully done and not overly graphic: it’s mostly “first-base” stuff rather than “third-base”!
“What a waste of a lovely night”. Marilyn (Andrea Riseborough) and Billie-Jean (Emma Stone) get serious.
Directed with panache by the co-directors of the 2006 smash “Little Miss Sunshine” – Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris – all in all it’s a delight, especially for older audiences who will get a blast of nostalgia from days when sports were still played at a slightly more leisurely pace… and definitely without the grunting.
“Battle of the Sexes” (which I just managed to catch before it left cinemas) tells the true-life story of US tennis star Billie-Jean King (Emma Stone, “La La Land“). The year is 1973 and Billie-Jean is riding high as the Number 1 female tennis player. She is a feminist; she is married (to hunk Larry – no not that one – King played by Austin Stowell (“Whiplash“, “Bridge of Spies“)); …. and she is also attracted to women, not something she has yet acted on. That all changes when her path crosses with LA-hairdresser Marilyn (Andrea Riseborough, “Birdman“, “Oblivion”).
But this is a side story: the main event is a bet made by aging ex-star Bobby Riggs (Steve Carell, “Foxcatcher“); that – even at his age – as a man he could beat the leading female tennis player of the day.
The film is gloriously retro, starting with the old-school 20th Century Fox production logo. And it contains breathtakingly sexist dialogue by writer Simon Beaufoy (“Everest“, “The Full Monty”). Surely men couldn’t have been so crass and outrageous in the 70’s? Sorry ladies, but the answer is yes, and the film is testament to how far women’s rights have come in 50 years.
This is a tour de force in acting from both Emma Stone and Steve Carell, particularly the latter: a scene where Carell tries to re-engage with his estranged wife (Elisabeth Shue, “Leaving Las Vegas”) is both nuanced and heart-breaking. Stone’s performance is also praiseworthy, although it feels slightly less so as it is an impersonation of a (relatively) well-known figure: this is extremely well-studied though, right down to her strutting walk around the court which I had both forgotten and was immediately again reminded of.
One of my favourite movie awards are the Screen Actor’s Guild (SAG) “cast” awards that celebrate ensemble performances, and here is a film that should have been nominated (it unfortunately wasn’t). Andrea Riseborough; Natalie Morales (as fellow tennis player Rosie Casals); comedian Sarah Silverman (“A Million Ways to Die in the West“), almost unrecognisable as the brash publicist Gladys Heldman; Bill Pullman as LTA head Jack Kramer; the great Alan Cumming (“The Good Wife”) as the team’s flamboyant, gay, costume designer; Lewis Pullman as Riggs’s son Larry; Jessica McNamee (magnetic eyes!) as King’s Australian tennis nemesis Margaret Court. All bounce off the leads, and each other, just beautifully.
Cinematography by Linus Sandgren (“La La Land“) and editing by Pamela Martin (“Little Miss Sunshine”) unite to deliver one of the most sexually charged haircuts you are ever likely to see on the screen. For those put off by this aspect of the storyline, the “girl-on-girl action” is pretty tastefully done and not overly graphic: it’s mostly “first-base” stuff rather than “third-base”!
“What a waste of a lovely night”. Marilyn (Andrea Riseborough) and Billie-Jean (Emma Stone) get serious.
Directed with panache by the co-directors of the 2006 smash “Little Miss Sunshine” – Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris – all in all it’s a delight, especially for older audiences who will get a blast of nostalgia from days when sports were still played at a slightly more leisurely pace… and definitely without the grunting.
I have a tough time reviewing books about Black Feminism. I enjoy reading them - well, maybe "enjoy" isn't quite the right word. They can be tough. I am glad to have read them. But how to review them? I'm a white woman, it's not really my place to critique these works. But it would be remiss of me to not talk about them - denying them the same space on my blog that I give to everything else I read is its own kind of erasure. I'm not sure how best to resolve this, but for this specific book, at least, I can talk about what I learned from it.
What I learned is that some of my childhood was straight-up racist. I always thought of my childhood as pretty idyllic - my parents were high school sweethearts, and to this day still adore each other. We lived in a house my parents owned. (My most formative years were actually spent in the house my mother grew up in; my parents bought it from my grandparents when I was seven.) We got to run around and play on a quiet neighborhood street where we knew all of our neighbors. We had pets of various species, we got technology fairly quickly since my father was a computer geek, we had a garden out back that Mom canned beans out of every year.
But I was homeschooled until eighth grade. (With Bob Jones and Abeka Books, notoriously Christian curriculum. I thought humans lived with dinosaurs well into my twenties.) We went to a conservative Christian church every Sunday. (And Tuesday. And some Fridays.) While my parents taught that I could be anything I wanted to be, the church definitely over rode that with "women should be subservient to men" and "don't trust your own judgment, ask God/your parents/the elders."
The incident that Jerkins' book brought back to mind, though, was a party I went to. I'm pretty sure it was someone's birthday party, but at a church. Not our church. There were a lot of people, though, so I could be wrong about the birthday party. It was this party where I got the tiny scar in my eyebrow - some kid broke the bat on the pinata and threw it behind him, where it hit me in the face. Before that, though, was the cake walk. There were footprints laid out on the concrete floor, and we paced around them while music played, kind of like musical chairs, I think. (I was younger than ten, my memory is a little fuzzy.) I won the cake! I thought nothing of this until reading This Will Be My Undoing.
"The cakewalk was a dance performed in the late nineteenth century at slave get-togethers. You lean or rear back and kick your feet out left and right or vice versa as you move forward......White people would watch them dance, fascinated by the exoticness of it all. These spectacles were purposeful humiliations. But the cakewalk evolved as slaves' own form of subversion. While serving at large and fancy parties in the early 1800s, they would watch well-to-do white people perform strict and stiff dances, like cotillions and quadrilles, and mimic them, exaggerating the bowing and small skips and hops and adding some high steps and jumps. In diaries kept by white people in the antebellum South, the cakewalk is not depicted as a form of satire. After all, why would a sweet slave mock his benevolent master? To white people's eyes, this imitation seemed like flattery. They were delighted that the slaves were attempting their civilized dances. In fact, they would hold competitions and the winning slaves would receive a cake, hence the name. Yet they were being mocked, right in front of their faces."
WHY WAS THIS BEING HELD AT A CHURCH PARTY? I don't recall if it was all white kids, but it probably was. My hometown was not very ethnically diverse. The more I learn - academically, politically, socially, secularly - the more I realize my childhood was pretty fucked up in a lot of different ways. I don't know if it was more or less fucked up than most white kids' childhoods - white supremacy is insidious. I was an ignorant child at the time, but to realize, decades later, how racist holding a cakewalk is, stopped me in my tracks. (Incidentally, this means that calling something "a cakewalk" has its roots in racism, like so many other things in our language. Cakewalks weren't easy - but the best dancers made them look that way.)
So that's what I can say about this book. I learned something about my childhood. Beyond that, all I will offer is that Jerkins is an excellent writer; the book flows well and is an easy read, despite the subject matter not being easy. Read it. It's important.
You can find all my reviews at http://goddessinthestacks.com
What I learned is that some of my childhood was straight-up racist. I always thought of my childhood as pretty idyllic - my parents were high school sweethearts, and to this day still adore each other. We lived in a house my parents owned. (My most formative years were actually spent in the house my mother grew up in; my parents bought it from my grandparents when I was seven.) We got to run around and play on a quiet neighborhood street where we knew all of our neighbors. We had pets of various species, we got technology fairly quickly since my father was a computer geek, we had a garden out back that Mom canned beans out of every year.
But I was homeschooled until eighth grade. (With Bob Jones and Abeka Books, notoriously Christian curriculum. I thought humans lived with dinosaurs well into my twenties.) We went to a conservative Christian church every Sunday. (And Tuesday. And some Fridays.) While my parents taught that I could be anything I wanted to be, the church definitely over rode that with "women should be subservient to men" and "don't trust your own judgment, ask God/your parents/the elders."
The incident that Jerkins' book brought back to mind, though, was a party I went to. I'm pretty sure it was someone's birthday party, but at a church. Not our church. There were a lot of people, though, so I could be wrong about the birthday party. It was this party where I got the tiny scar in my eyebrow - some kid broke the bat on the pinata and threw it behind him, where it hit me in the face. Before that, though, was the cake walk. There were footprints laid out on the concrete floor, and we paced around them while music played, kind of like musical chairs, I think. (I was younger than ten, my memory is a little fuzzy.) I won the cake! I thought nothing of this until reading This Will Be My Undoing.
"The cakewalk was a dance performed in the late nineteenth century at slave get-togethers. You lean or rear back and kick your feet out left and right or vice versa as you move forward......White people would watch them dance, fascinated by the exoticness of it all. These spectacles were purposeful humiliations. But the cakewalk evolved as slaves' own form of subversion. While serving at large and fancy parties in the early 1800s, they would watch well-to-do white people perform strict and stiff dances, like cotillions and quadrilles, and mimic them, exaggerating the bowing and small skips and hops and adding some high steps and jumps. In diaries kept by white people in the antebellum South, the cakewalk is not depicted as a form of satire. After all, why would a sweet slave mock his benevolent master? To white people's eyes, this imitation seemed like flattery. They were delighted that the slaves were attempting their civilized dances. In fact, they would hold competitions and the winning slaves would receive a cake, hence the name. Yet they were being mocked, right in front of their faces."
WHY WAS THIS BEING HELD AT A CHURCH PARTY? I don't recall if it was all white kids, but it probably was. My hometown was not very ethnically diverse. The more I learn - academically, politically, socially, secularly - the more I realize my childhood was pretty fucked up in a lot of different ways. I don't know if it was more or less fucked up than most white kids' childhoods - white supremacy is insidious. I was an ignorant child at the time, but to realize, decades later, how racist holding a cakewalk is, stopped me in my tracks. (Incidentally, this means that calling something "a cakewalk" has its roots in racism, like so many other things in our language. Cakewalks weren't easy - but the best dancers made them look that way.)
So that's what I can say about this book. I learned something about my childhood. Beyond that, all I will offer is that Jerkins is an excellent writer; the book flows well and is an easy read, despite the subject matter not being easy. Read it. It's important.
You can find all my reviews at http://goddessinthestacks.com