REVIEW: Grrrls on the Side by Carrie Pack

Grrls on the Side by Carrie Pack (June 8, 2017); 230 pages. Available from Duet Books/Interlude Press here.

Back when Riot Grrrls were active, I no longer qualified as a girl, except perhaps to a certain breed of older person who would probably still call me a girl at 46. Still, I remember the movement and the excitement and hope that went with it. It was a good time, with particularly good music.

Grrrls on the Side takes place in the 1990s in the US, at the height of the Riot Grrrl movement. It follows the growth from girl to grrrl of Tabitha, who finds her bisexuality, and then finds Riot Grrrl. She’s fat (as a fat woman myself, boy, howdy, do I hate the word “chubby” or other euphemisms like “of size”… I’m going to use “fat” here, because it’s what I call myself), she’s white, she’s sheltered, and she’s a teenager still in high school. Life, in other words, is a combination of tough and easy, which all changes when she finds a Riot Grrrl group—the tough stuff gets easier and the easy stuff gets tougher. She finds support, but also must figure out how to support others (along the way, confronting the implacable whiteness of much of the mainstream feminist movement). When her support system—her friends and new girlfriend—hit the road to tour as a new band, Tabitha is left to figure out how to be independent while still depending on support from others.

The novel’s focus isn’t politics, per se, though if one understands “politics” to refer to the workings of power, politics are certainly sewn in there. Instead, it focuses on the experience of Tabitha, learning to accept herself, find her own power, and work it out with others. (In other words, it’s a very apt story for a young person, since that’s what most of us spend our youth doing.)

Told in the first person present tense, Grrrls on the Side is interspersed (epistle-style) with short excerpts from the various zines the Riot Grrrls write, and as a result, there are several narrations represented here—in other words, the novel wants to bring together all these different voices and let speak everyone who usually doesn’t get to do so.

 

REVIEW: Cherry Pie Cure by M. Jane Colette

Cherry Pie Cure by M. Jane Colette (June 15, 2017); 291 pages. Available as either ebook or paperback at Amazon here.  And from Kobo books here. (See the author’s website at https://mjanecolette.com/ for more buying options.)

Susan is a mid-divorce, middle-aged woman with a petty, selfish and unfaithful estranged husband John and a couple very loving fully-grown sons, plus a small cadre of other supporters (the fiercely loyal girlfriend of one son, a local bestie, and several online supporters). At the advice of her bestie, as a kind of therapy she begins a blog about her experiences with said petty, selfish and unfaithful estranged husband and her search for self. While blogging, she picks up several followers who support her, sometimes challenge her, and form a sort of unharmonious Greek chorus to her narrative. Cherry Pie Cure is told entirely through Susan’s online essays and the resulting online comments of this chorus (actually part Greek chorus, part peanut gallery).

The story begins in Susan’s struggle to be okay and to process her husband’s actions, which include dating “Jewel of the Not-So-Spectacular Boobs” and trying to turn her adult sons against her, but quickly moves into Susan’s infatuation and courtship with Reza, a dreamy stockboy at the local grocery store who pitches woo like… well, like something that pitches amazing woo. But this story doesn’t merely revolve around whether or not the girl gets the guy: Susan also develops a deepening relationship with her son’s girlfriend, Nika; is pushed and stretched by her friend Marcella (I think of her as a door-opener here); is encouraged to love herself (in more ways than one) by her sex toy-selling online friend FemmeFataleFun (who sends care packages), and is challenged, encouraged and supported by a couple seemingly-on-the-prowl younger men online. In there, she also starts baking cherry pies as a kind of therapy, but those pies wind up garnering her loyalty, interest and love.

This is more about those friendships than the love affair—though there’s the central narrative of falling in love (tenuous flirtation, insecure interest, deepening romance) for those who want it, there’s more to be had. For me, the story is about the ways in which Susan’s friends support her, the ways in which Susan supports other people, the ways in which love is a community event as much as it is a private thing.

Plus, you know, the story is funny, too. Ha-ha funny, I mean. Susan’s clever, and hearing the tale through her voice makes it all the more fun. She’s wry and smart and afraid-but-brave. The story itself hooks you in—a good narrative, told in pieces like this (we don’t see the action directly, but only hear what Susan will tell us about after the fact), can be (and is here) so addictive.