Book Review: Better Living Through Alchemy

I’ve been meaning to finish and review Evan J. Peterson’s occult detective novella Better Living Through Alchemy since it came out last year. Better late than never, right?

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of books in order to judge the Best Independent Press award for the British Fantasy Awards. There are a few of us judging each award, and next month, I’ll tell you more about what the experience of judging a literary award is like.

Once I finished that stack of books, I looked at my TBR and there it was, waiting for me – Better Living Through Alchemy, which Evan (who I met through a Clarion West writing group) had kindly given me a review copy for.

At 166 pages, this is a slim but satisfying read, a fast-paced page turner. It’s also not your typical detective novel.

Private investigator Kelly Munn uses her magical and psychic abilities to investigate cases in Seattle along with her cousin and assistant, Critter. One day a client comes in with an equally strange mystery for her to look into. A drug called bardo has appeared on the streets. It’s killing people and leaving their bodies mutated in bizarre ways. It’s a compelling case – and paycheck – that Kelly and Critter can’t refuse.

The characters are charming, with the banter between detectives and clients reading as entertaining and the caring bickering between the two cousins as believable. I enjoyed how the story low-key has a mostly queer cast. Kelly is bi or pan, and Critter is trans and some variety of queer as well.

While Critter and some of the other characters use magical techniques like tarot and dowsing to investigate the mystery, Kelly’s abilities are the most interesting aspect of the heroes’ magic. She has clairolfaction – she can smell feelings and images, which help her intuit leads for the cases she investigates. (Her ability doesn’t seem too far off from synesthesia, just a bit more magical.) Her third-person point of view is peppered with experiences like smelling lies, “green words,” and a mixture of “rightness and wrongness” that smells like “wood smoke and rain mingled.”

Like her colleagues, she supplements her natural abilities with an interesting sort of magical technology. She free-associates words to come up with insights and, at one point, uses something called a “Dreamachine” that once belonged to William Burroughs. I think I want one.

The plot drives the storytelling forward, with one thing leading to another. Resurrection! Demons! Tree-people! Lost gods! The appearance of the drug itself! The tension ramps up, backstories are revealed, twists and turns appear, and everything feels engrossing. By the end of the story, things are… mostly explained, and maybe some of them don’t need to be.

All I can say is, it took me too long to read this book. Don’t be like me – read it now.

Author Interview and UK “Speed Walk”

My friend Mikey Belcher is a fellow American-Canadian transplant to the UK. We went to grad school together, and now he has a fantastic Substack newsletter where he writes about art, architecture, and more. I was delighted to do an author interview with him recently.

He asked me thoughtful questions about my new poetry book, The Heart Decided to Move, we share our experiences of moving to the UK on ancestry visas, and the interview ends with a “speed walk” around some of my favorite places in the UK.

It was fun to be asked what building I’d most like to build out of Lego! Portmeirion, in Wales, of course (see below). Read the full interview here.

More Synesthesia Shenanigans

I’m taking part in a research study at the University of Sussex on synesthesia in families. My mom’s participating too. It’s looking at both synesthetes and their non-synesthetic first-degree relatives. They’re still looking for direct relatives of synesthetes to participate, so if this applies to you or someone you know, you can learn more below or click here to sign up. It’s a paid study that involves color matching and memory tests.

Now I have consistency tests confirming my synesthesia. It felt exciting to have evidence that this was real, that I wasn’t making it all up.

I’ve also signed up for a workshop with the documentary In My Mind’s Eye – Unlocking Synaesthesia. The co-hosts, who run the Let’s Talk Synaesthesia podcast, will be leading sessions on neurodivergent wellbeing, music, and art-making. It’s taking place on October 18 in London, and interested synesthetes can sign up on Eventbrite (space is limited).

This past weekend, I went to an art installation at the Barbican called Feel the Sound. I thought the “multi-sensory installations” sounded both interesting and synesthetic. The exhibit had a lot of cool concepts, such as instruments that use light or sense indirect touch, and AI-generated, light-up melodies that match participants’ descriptions of their experiences with music. There was a lot of AI use in this contemporary exhibit, and I’m not sure how I feel about the infusion of that bland AI-generated writing style in the art world.

As I expected, a lot of the exhibit mixed senses in interesting ways, and that stirred up my mixed senses. I suppose I should have expected that something called “Feel the Sound” would have a lot of what, to me, felt like “weird noises.” Some of them were red or green or shaped like triangles. It felt a bit chaotic in some of the rooms, and calmer in others where the sonic atmosphere was more closely controlled. The choir of trans voices in a room where listeners could rest on body pillows was a highlight, along with screens of visuals synced to music and platforms that vibrate along with sounds. Overall, the experience was a blend of hit and miss for me.

That’s how I’d probably describe my engagement with contemporary art in general, as well as my experiences with synesthesia. I recently tried closing my eyes by a busy highway and watching the colors and shapes that the car noises made in my mind’s eye. It was cool that I could do that… but I quickly lost interest in that little game. I’m the kind of curious person who smells all the roses in the rose garden. But some experiences, it turns out, can be both synesthetic and boring.

Onward, September!