I read a novel this week where the main character does science wrong, in a pretty fascinating, feminist-rebellious way, and I sincerely enjoyed it. It did<\/em> feel weird, though, to read while RFK Jr. is charge of the nation\u2019s medicine and Donald Trump is President. Making your own reality reads, uh, slightly differently in the Trump era. I hate it here, for the record. At least books are still good. <\/p> What I\u2019ve Been Reading This Week: <\/strong><\/p> A book that you could totally syllabus together with The Broken Earth Trilogy<\/a>, even though they are wildly different. A book that\u2019s less than one-tenth the length of the entire trilogy, how\u2019s that for different? A book that interrogates the history of the planet in surprising ways, and a book that has that same kind of not-quite surrealism that makes something like The Houseboat Veronica<\/a><\/em> by Josh Bell<\/a> so interesting. I\u2019m talking, of course, about Natural Wonders<\/em> by Angela Woodward.<\/p> The novel is structured as a series of lectures for one of those big, one- or two hundred-person lecture hall 101 science classes. I believe it\u2019s Prehistory Of Man, although many student groups have been protesting to get the course named to something gender-neutral, and repeatedly been called childish by administrators. Giving the lectures is Jenny, the either grieving or liberated or unsure widow of Jonathan, the original prof. Jenny was a typist at the university, Jonathan a professor 30 years her senior. Their marriage just sort of happened, and then Jonathan had a sudden heart attack one day, and now Jenny is going through his very sloppy notes, trying to teach the class. What follows is a sort of lyric, fairy tale-esque interrogation of the gender politics of how science and history get taught. <\/p> Jenny is not some airheaded typist who cannot grasp the masculine realities of science, or whatever the Ben Shapiros of the world would allege. Rather, Jenny\u2019s interpretation of these half-heartedly kept but all-important lecture notes is an interrogation of the misguided self-assurance of some scientists throughout history. The novel doesn\u2019t read angry or self-righteous, though. It\u2019s more observational. It kind of reminded me\u2014have you ever heard of those, like, ancient sculptures of naked women, which for a long time a bunch of men anthropologist theorized were fertility goddesses or even ancient porn, but then a woman anthropologist looked down at her own breasts and belly and said, \u201cyo what if these are self-portraits?\u201d Here\u2019s a smarter article about this topic<\/a>. Natural Wonders<\/em> is a lot like that. This novel is first and foremost a lyric fairy tale, an accounting of a woman widowed before middle age figuring things out. Beyond that, though, it\u2019s an argument for diversity of thought in universities and intellectual spaces. No, not diversity of thought like the way most Substackers view it<\/a>. I mean the kinds of realizations and knowledge pursuits that are only possible when the academy isn\u2019t just an extension of white supremacist capitalist patriarchy. Of all the not-quite-full-surrealist, not-quite-straightforward novels I\u2019ve read, this one feels like one I will return to a lot. <\/p> LINKS!<\/strong><\/p> Something to listen to while you browse? Two podcast this week: we were blessed to have Sandra Marchetti as a returning guest on The Line Break<\/em> this week (Apple<\/a> | Spotty<\/a> | SoundCloud<\/a>). Order Sandra\u2019s new book, Diorama<\/em>, here. Over on The Lazy & Entitled Podcast<\/em>, I was thrilled to talk to the homie Cristian Ramirez about life as a labor compliance officer (Apple<\/a> | Spotty<\/a> | SoundCloud<\/a>). If you\u2019d rather listen to music, I enjoyed this way more than I thought possible. <\/p>![\"the](\"https:\/\/substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com\/public\/images\/79acd49e-4ae1-4f04-94c8-05ef254c66b2_2861x3892.heic\")
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