Sometimes I think about the sound of Daisy’s voice before I think about her face. Fitzgerald described it as being “full of money,” but to me, it sounds like a kind of music that both dazzles and wounds. It lingers in the air, soft and golden, but if you listen long enough, you begin to…

The first time I saw Janie beneath the pear tree, I felt something stir in me too. The air in that scene feels alive, shimmering with sunlight and the hum of bees, and Janie stands there watching, waiting for the world to reveal itself. It is such a simple image, yet it holds everything —…

Sometimes I think there are stories too heavy for words, and yet they still find ways to be told. When I first read Beloved, I did not know what to do with the silence that followed me after the last page. It was not the kind of silence that comes from emptiness, but from fullness…

There is a strange kind of silence that follows a woman when the world decides she has sinned. I imagine Hester Prynne walking through that silence, the weight of every gaze pressing against her back, her child clinging to her arm, and the scarlet letter glimmering like a wound across her chest. That letter was…

For the longest time, I’ve always had the strangest of fascinations with the female figures I read about in my Greek mythology comics. The stories themselves were focused mostly on the men, and so were many of the readers, I’m sure – Hercules with his great feats of physical strength, Odysseus and his thousand cunning…

Where to even begin? This was exactly as I had feared, the reason why my hands hovered so long over the keyboard, time and time again, the moment I decided that this book must be what I start on, the beginning of everything on this blog. But what other choice do I have? Circe has…