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From Legend is the intriguing first book in The Reeve series. The book primarily follows Logan Hale, The Reeve - a sherriff-type character - of the city of Beldenridge. The world is an alternate version of our own. In the distant past of this world, alchemists went too far in their experiments, something went horribly wrong, and a variety of mutated plants, animals, and humans have led to a dark and gothic current day, lacking technological advancement and stunting the growth of civilization. The story takes place in the year 2017 somewhere in North America, but is utterly foreign. The writing is atmospheric and compelling and the characters are very interesting. Being the first in the series to come, this book does a lot of set up, starting with a mysterious death that leads Logan on a wild chase for answers. Sprinkled throughout the current-day narrative are flashbacks to some years prior, which offer bits of context for both the world and the characters experiencing the flashbacks. Although the flashbacks feel very frequent and somewhat disruptive early in the book, they become less-so as the story progresses, and I found myself missing them as they did.

If you’re a fan of gothic settings and stories I’d recommend checking this one out. Fans of Batman will find Logan a familiar sort of character, though certainly unique as well.

5/5, From Legend was fascinating and compelling, always making me want to read more to see what would happen next. I look forward to seeing where the story goes from here.

Earlier this summer I happened upon a Walt Whitman exhibit at the New York Public Library. The space was pretty small, but smartly arranged to pack a lot of information. This encounter inspired me to read Leaves of Grass, and provided me with a metaphor for the experience. Leaves of Grass unfolds like a vast, labyrinthine art gallery, with the reader pausing in front of each work, its masterful employment of language depicting scenes ranging from grand vistas to diminutive vignettes. One might not always understand everything that's being conveyed, or perhaps one comes away with a unique interpretation, but appreciation of the work, its musicality, happens regardless.

Leaves of Grass is deeply personal, sort of an autobiography put to verse, revealing Whitman's character (or how he viewed himself) in all its dimensions. Essentially arranged chronologically, the poems begin with a youthful, full-of-vigor (and so horny!) Whitman singing of himself, with a touch of arrogance that is not off-putting, but rather inspirational for one's own affirmations. Here was a man whose lust for life knew no bounds, exploring the world before him and always striving to make real human connections wherever he went. In his middle years he cared for the wounded (on both sides) in the Civil War, an experience which deepened his humanism, and as he says later, made his work have any meaning. And finally, as the sweet bird-songs of sunset, he warbles his elder years, reflecting on the life he lived.

If there's a constant thread running through his poems, aside from himself, it's America. Whitman sings of the common man (and woman), busy at building a new nation from the ground up. He writes of farmers, mechanics, laborers of all kinds, folk bustling the streets of Manhattan. Here's a nation with its best years ahead of it, now that we've achieved a more perfect rebirth via the Civil War, and begun industrialization, and left the feudalism of our ancestors behind for the aspirations of democracy.

It may not always make sense to read books of poetry cover-to-cover, but in this case I believe it is essential, for grasping Whitman as a human, for grasping his view of the world as it rapidly evolved, for letting his musical verse flow through you.