Through the lens of Frankenstein, Destroyer unmakes the original Frankenstein mythos and reevaluates it in a way that makes creation stem less from individual hubris and something more akin to desperation.
Revenge is often never as fulfilling as we think it will be, because the harm that’s been done isn’t fixed by that revenge. As a reader, you’re fixated on the supposed satisfaction of witnessing slavers gain their comeuppance, while also having to experience through Sully the visceral reality that healing is never truly so straight forward.
On the heels of doing research for my list of 50 Black horror authors, I’ve found several titles that I’m howling at the moon for this Horror Season. Black writers are often not thought of when we speak of genre fiction, but it’s past time to put a stake in that idea and lay it to eternal rest. So, lets take a look at some books that I want to send chills down my spine.
October has hit the calendar, and for many of us, that means scary reads, chilly nights, and the warmth of pumpkin drinks to keep our bones from rattling.
Welcome back fellow readers. Today, we’ve got a fun (belated) look at last month’s Popculture Readathon, a 90’s movie inspired readathon that was hosted by
Happy Monday, Readers. Welcome to the first Weekday Scribbles post—a casual look at what we’re reading, some one-off thoughts and commentary on book-world happenings, and
We’re getting back in the swing of things here at Fine Point Scribbles, and that includes delving into ARCs and review copies. While I’m reading
So, if you’ve been following me for any length of time, you know I do not do readathons. Historically I’ve never finished one out, and
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve blogged properly. Given the current state of the world I’ve fallen off reading, writing about reading, and writing
Twitter is my main platform, and the one thus far that I’ve been using to find and share resources and speak out about the racial
Under the Udala Trees is a beautiful, layered story about love, expectations, motherhood, and staying true to oneself even then that means making difficult choices.
Dear Martin shows that above all, young black boys can and do thrive—but they have to be given the ability to do so, and we have to question the ways and reasons that make it so they don’t.