Logan

Yesterday I had the opportunity to talk about my books with a Black Canadian book vlogger, and she closed with lightning round questions: “Who is your favorite character in Black Panther?” I’m terrible at answering “favorite” questions, but I had to admit that even though he was unlikable, I left the theater thinking most about Eric Killmonger. Last fall, the women over at The Book Smugglers asked me to reflect on my favorite 2017 SFF book or film. Without hesitation, I asked if I could write about Wolverine. When it comes to superheroes, for the past decade he has been my undisputed favorite, and his on-screen death shook me in unexpected ways. Here’s a bit of my rather intimate essay—you can read the entire “love letter” here:

It’s amazing how a movie about mutants actually reveals so much about human nature. We can be selfish and petty and cruel, and yet we still need one another desperately. Most days I would say that I have given up on the idea of family; I believe in community and do my best to serve mine, but I haven’t started a family of my own and largely accept the estrangement from my siblings that followed my father’s death. As is my custom, I spent Christmas alone, practicing the solitary rituals that bring me joy; without my family around, the holidays are guaranteed to be peaceful.

So why does my heart ache when I watch Logan now? Maybe living in the Trump era has me feeling like Logan—defeated, world-weary, and desperate for a way out. Maybe it’s something more. Moments before his death, Charles says to a cynical Logan, “This is what life looks like—a home, people who love each other, a safe place. You should take a moment and feel it.” Maybe one day I will. Maybe I still have time.

I came back from Scotland with a cold, but will write about my amazing trip soon…