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I know, I actually had time to read a book, mark it on your calendars, it was a miracle. (When was the last time?!?! Oh right-- The Ile-Rien trilogy, and I remember it was during the October power outage. Which would explain how I had time for it. The Gate of the Gods still has candle wax on the pages.)
I got home yesterday and there were two packages on my bed. One was an order I'd placed at Clean Undies, for more organic cotton underpants. I am such a sucker, but I love those damn things. I cannot explain it.
The other was a package from Amazon.
Which was baffling, as while I've been secretly pining for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marthawells's Death of the Necromancer for like, a year, I haven't actually ordered it yet. (Because when would I read it, right?)
But there was my mom's name on the invoice slip, and it was a book entitled Rollergirl: Totally True Tales from the Track. By Melicious, of the Texas Rollergirls.
Fascinating.
This isn't really a proper book review, it's just a response piece: it's past my bedtime and I'm on a post-derby high anyway. But, for what it's worth, as it should be commemorated that I read a book:
It was really interesting. She was a founding member, joining just after the first bout. ( first, factual reactions: )
But I digress. Naturally, my response to this book is pretty heavily influenced by my own personal involvement in the sport in question, which is a pretty niche endeavor. I'm predisposed to be totally pumped about any media exposure to my sport. So I'm going to be charitable in reviewing this book.
It's entertaining. It's a very fast read. And it gives you a pretty good overview of a lot of the social dynamics underlying the flat track, punk-rock, DIY all-girl roller derby revival. She touches on a lot of things that I think are pretty resounding universal truths for most rollergirls-- the sense of self-discovery, of reinvention; the satisfaction of mastering something so difficult; the astonishing and sudden lightning-flash revelation of the meaning of teamwork; and not least, the surprising draw of stardom.
She does pretty well at not pandering, either. There's mention of boobs and pillow-fighting and the like, but she also successfully captures the distinction between being exploited and empowered. Her girls showboat because they like it, not because they feel it's expected.
It's very hard for me to judge whether these things would come across to a reader who was not a derby girl herself, or not a derby enthusiast. Her discussion of tactics is breezy but interesting, without being too technical. Of course I knew, though I hadn't realized, that those first leagues had to invent the rules themselves. I would've liked some slightly more technical discussion of tactics, but I understand how my interest is quite different from anyone else's-- and anyway, technical discussion of tactics beyond the level she attempts is virtually impossible.
The book is sprinkled with quotes and bio boxes from and about other rollergirls, mostly big names from the first leagues' early days-- Electra Blu, who designed the flat track using a CAD program to flatten a banked track; Suzy Hotrod of the Gotham Girls, probably the world's best/most famous jammer; MRD's Crackerjack, who brought my league founder Sweet Pea into the fold; Ivanna S. Pankin, who founded two leagues, and a lot of others, almost all of whom I've heard of.
The writing is anecdotal but competent, very well copy-edited. I don't think I'd read her fiction, if she wrote any, but her nonfiction is quite good--neither stiff nor chatty, and very clearly-told. A bit of the story suffers from being more complicated than she can easily deal with-- parts of it don't clearly reference other parts, so I get the feeling that they were written down before they were put in chronological order. (For example, Whiskey's dramatic injury in an early bout is recounted without mentioning that it was career-ending, and later when she makes her appearance as an announcer, it's mentioned that she had "a spiral break" but no details are given, so if you're not paying attention, you won't realize it's the same girl whose leg was broken in half in the earlier story.)
Again, it's hard for me to respond to this book analytically. I think any rollergirl should read it, as it gives a lot of insight into not only the history of the sport, but also the nature of league dynamics when you don't know any better, and team dynamics when you're not team players. It definitely drove home for me how goddamn lucky I am to have joined the QCRG: she speaks of the early practices as having two cliques, the Mean Girls and the Nice Girls. Dude, I think there was only ever one Mean Girl at the QCRG and we kicked her out. (She wasn't even that mean.) We have never operated that way. And our drama and bullshit have been so fucking trivial, we really ought to thank our lucky stars.
And I do; I do.
It almost makes me want to write a derby memoir of my own. I think I could explain the phenomenon's appeal, to its participants at least, more clearly and vividly than this writer.
But that may be conceit.
I got home yesterday and there were two packages on my bed. One was an order I'd placed at Clean Undies, for more organic cotton underpants. I am such a sucker, but I love those damn things. I cannot explain it.
The other was a package from Amazon.
Which was baffling, as while I've been secretly pining for
marthawells's Death of the Necromancer for like, a year, I haven't actually ordered it yet. (Because when would I read it, right?)But there was my mom's name on the invoice slip, and it was a book entitled Rollergirl: Totally True Tales from the Track. By Melicious, of the Texas Rollergirls.
Fascinating.
This isn't really a proper book review, it's just a response piece: it's past my bedtime and I'm on a post-derby high anyway. But, for what it's worth, as it should be commemorated that I read a book:
It was really interesting. She was a founding member, joining just after the first bout. ( first, factual reactions: )
But I digress. Naturally, my response to this book is pretty heavily influenced by my own personal involvement in the sport in question, which is a pretty niche endeavor. I'm predisposed to be totally pumped about any media exposure to my sport. So I'm going to be charitable in reviewing this book.
It's entertaining. It's a very fast read. And it gives you a pretty good overview of a lot of the social dynamics underlying the flat track, punk-rock, DIY all-girl roller derby revival. She touches on a lot of things that I think are pretty resounding universal truths for most rollergirls-- the sense of self-discovery, of reinvention; the satisfaction of mastering something so difficult; the astonishing and sudden lightning-flash revelation of the meaning of teamwork; and not least, the surprising draw of stardom.
She does pretty well at not pandering, either. There's mention of boobs and pillow-fighting and the like, but she also successfully captures the distinction between being exploited and empowered. Her girls showboat because they like it, not because they feel it's expected.
It's very hard for me to judge whether these things would come across to a reader who was not a derby girl herself, or not a derby enthusiast. Her discussion of tactics is breezy but interesting, without being too technical. Of course I knew, though I hadn't realized, that those first leagues had to invent the rules themselves. I would've liked some slightly more technical discussion of tactics, but I understand how my interest is quite different from anyone else's-- and anyway, technical discussion of tactics beyond the level she attempts is virtually impossible.
The book is sprinkled with quotes and bio boxes from and about other rollergirls, mostly big names from the first leagues' early days-- Electra Blu, who designed the flat track using a CAD program to flatten a banked track; Suzy Hotrod of the Gotham Girls, probably the world's best/most famous jammer; MRD's Crackerjack, who brought my league founder Sweet Pea into the fold; Ivanna S. Pankin, who founded two leagues, and a lot of others, almost all of whom I've heard of.
The writing is anecdotal but competent, very well copy-edited. I don't think I'd read her fiction, if she wrote any, but her nonfiction is quite good--neither stiff nor chatty, and very clearly-told. A bit of the story suffers from being more complicated than she can easily deal with-- parts of it don't clearly reference other parts, so I get the feeling that they were written down before they were put in chronological order. (For example, Whiskey's dramatic injury in an early bout is recounted without mentioning that it was career-ending, and later when she makes her appearance as an announcer, it's mentioned that she had "a spiral break" but no details are given, so if you're not paying attention, you won't realize it's the same girl whose leg was broken in half in the earlier story.)
Again, it's hard for me to respond to this book analytically. I think any rollergirl should read it, as it gives a lot of insight into not only the history of the sport, but also the nature of league dynamics when you don't know any better, and team dynamics when you're not team players. It definitely drove home for me how goddamn lucky I am to have joined the QCRG: she speaks of the early practices as having two cliques, the Mean Girls and the Nice Girls. Dude, I think there was only ever one Mean Girl at the QCRG and we kicked her out. (She wasn't even that mean.) We have never operated that way. And our drama and bullshit have been so fucking trivial, we really ought to thank our lucky stars.
And I do; I do.
It almost makes me want to write a derby memoir of my own. I think I could explain the phenomenon's appeal, to its participants at least, more clearly and vividly than this writer.
But that may be conceit.
