It’s the first day of summer and you know what that means: you’ll be hearing from me about how to have fun in the sun without burning your buns!

It’s no secret that I’m a staunch advocate for skin cancer prevention. If there is a secret to be had, it’s that the gothier part of me also kinda likes being pale. (Also, I take meds that make me literally allergic to direct sunlight. Weirdest side effect ever, I know. More on that later.) Whether you’re hoping to retain your Victorian aesthetic, are looking for ways to combat a medication-induced sun sensitivity, or are simply a skin cancer prevention warrior, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve obsessively battled UV radiation for more than a decade now so I’m kind of a sun protection guru. Follow these tips and you, too, will be able to hit up the beach or go for long hikes without suffering sunburns or photoaging (I don’t know about you but the only wrinkles I’m willing to tolerate are laugh lines).

1. Sunscreen, Sunscreen, Properly Applied Sunscreen!

It should go without saying that sunscreen is at the top of any sun protection list. Sunscreen application is both the bare minimum and your first line of defense when it comes to sun protection. Unfortunately, the sunscreen discussion tends to end with “apply daily.” Are you applying it effectively though, and reapplying every 90 minutes if you’re sweating? Do you know the difference between physical and chemical sunscreens? You’ve heard of the Sun Protection Factor (SPF) but have you heard of the PA system (or Protective Grade of UVA) and the Persistent Pigment Darkening (PPD) reaction? If not, I cover these topics in more detail in my most effective sunscreens article.The most important takeaways are to look for sunscreens with an SPF 50 PA++++ rating and to make sure you’re not skimping on the amount of sunscreen you apply! The American Academy of Dermatology urges adults to apply at least 1 oz of sunscreen (enough to fill a shot glass) for optimal efficiency. Also, ladies: Slapping on a BB cream with SPF in the morning will not protect you the way you think it will. BB creams and tinted moisturizers with added SPF protection are great for an additional layer of sun protection but unless you’re cool with a sticky, cakey face, chances are you’re not applying a thick enough layer to get full protection. Speaking of sticky, sunscreen doesn’t have to be sticky! Again, if you’re overwhelmed by the number of sunscreen options on the market, check out my everyday sunscreen recommendations for people who hate sunscreen.

2. Optimize Your Wardrobe For UPF Protection

Okay, so I’ll admit I was once part of the camp who thought clothing provided adequate sun protection. In reality, most summer clothing (think thin, cottony fabric) only provides a UPF of about 5. The Skin Cancer Foundation contradicts my statement that sunscreen is the first line of defense in a sun protection arsenal since most people don’t apply it properly. They give some awesome tips on picking out clothes that provide more protection than your favorite t-shirt (hint: color, construction, size, and fit all play a role in an item of clothing’s protection level). As someone who has experimented with summer-friendly, radiation-fighting clothing for years, I have some tips of my own to keep you cool and your skin safe:

Loose fitting jean jackets = LIFE

My favorite vintage Levi jean jacket is the perfect accessory for any summer outfit from sundress to t-shirt. Its loose fit prevents the fabric from sticking to my skin and the think denim material is thick enough to keep out the bad rays.

Sometimes long sleeves keep you cooler!

My Italian, olive-skinned fiancé will never believe me on this, but I’ve experienced more relief with long-sleeved shirts in moisture-wicking polyester or nylon than if I’d exposed a bare arm to the sun. Sunlight penetrates the skin and increases body temperature. Think of synthetic fabrics like an umbrella for your skin: a slight shade will cool you down, even on the hottest summer day.

The innovators at Coolibar should win a Nobel Prize

Coolibar was the first clothing company to provide fashionable UPF50+ clothing. Although a few other brands have since followed suit (see: Uv Skinz and Solbari ), Coolibar is the top brand recommended by The Skin Cancer Foundation. They carry everything from blankets and dresses to pants, shirts, and swimwear for men, women, and children. I’m a huge fan of their gloves and arm sleeves for covering up while I’m driving.

3. Be that Oversized Hat-Loving, Umbrella-Wielding Weirdo Wherever You Go

A decade ago, we thought Japanese tourists were weird for walking with umbrellas on sunny summer days. Now, we know better, but the umbrella stigma lingers. An introvert by nature, I hate the involuntary conversation my umbrella invites, but I use the curiosity of others to educate them about skin cancer prevention. Did you know that the scalp is one of skin cancer’s favorite places to rear its ugly head (no pun intended)? Probably not, because you can’t exactly slather sunscreen on your scalp (well, I guess you can but who would want to?). Umbrellas are great for both shade and UV protection, but you can’t carry them everywhere. If you’re into gardening or outdoor running (don’t forget your waterproof SPF!), a big floppy hat is more feasible. I have this oversized black Kentucky Derby-esque hat that radiates glamor and does an excellent job shielding my face, neck, and shoulders when I’m on the go (goth girls, hit me up for hat-buying recs). For running, although not as effective, I’d suggest a good old-fashioned baseball cap.

4. Educate Yourself on Medication Side Effects and Skincare Routine Interactions

As I mentioned earlier in this article, I have a medication-induced sun allergy. My condition is rare, but sun sensitivity as a side effect of certain medications is far more common. Your skincare regimen might also produce sun sensitivity. Retinols, AHAs and BHAs (and the myriad additional acids found on the market these days), Benzoyl Peroxide, enzymes, and a variety of other ingredients carry warnings to avoid or limit sun exposure. These warnings are not to be taken lightly. Take it from the girl who ended up in urgent care with chemical burns after a trip to New Orleans: it’s in your best interest to set an alarm so you don’t forget to reapply your SPF every 90 minutes. I’d also highly recommend physical/mineral sunscreens over chemical ones for sensitive skin types. (One of my newest favs for face and body application is Make P:rem UV Defense Calamine Sun Milk SPF 50 PA++++. Large sizes and decent prices for Korean skincare? Yay!)

I can go on and on (and on and on and on) about different ways to protect your skin from sun damage, but these four easy tips are a good place for novice skin cancer warriors to start.

I don’t talk about it as often as I should, but my skincare obsession began as an attempt to curb a different type of obsession. Dermatillomania, also known as excoriation disorder, is defined by the DSM as “a disorder of impulse control characterized by the urge to pick at the skin, even to the extent that damage is caused.” In college, I would sometimes make myself late for class by spending 3 hours in the mirror “cleaning the dirt from my pores” (as I told myself). Like most people with the disorder, I hated what I was doing to myself but no therapist, medication, or mindfulness exercise made a dent in my behavior. A few years ago after treating myself to one of the best facials ever as a birthday gift to myself, a lightbulb went on: I could go a few days without picking my skin after a facial because during that time there was nothing to pick. Once I figured this out, I embarked on my quest to rid my skin of what I’d call its problematic texture. Heavy moisturizers, regular face masks, and weekly chemical exfoliation have proven miraculous in my “recovery.” I put “recovery” in quotes because I’m not perfect. I still stumble sometimes and consider it a good month if it ends with less than 3 scabs on my face.

I’m telling you my story as a precursor to my review of Swallow because I want you to know that I speak from experience when I say director Carlo Mirabella-Davis’ portrayal of pica as a body-focused repetitive behavior (as opposed to an eating disorder, which would have been the trite, obvious choice) makes Swallow one of those rare, beautiful films that successfully presents a struggle for self-agency as the etiology of an impulse control disorder.

Swallow follows Hunter (Haley Bennett), a soft-spoken twentysomething newlywed dressed like a 1950s housewife, as she tiptoes around a large empty mansion painted in saturated pink hues. From the opening scene’s closeup of her carefully coiffed blonde bob (a hairstyle that doesn’t go over well, as we’ll soon find out), we get the impression Hunter’s every movement is part of a carefully crafted mask. In a telling scene with her mother-in-law (Elizabeth Marvel), we learn that Hunter is an artist with low self-esteem who insists she’s happy to leave career aspirations behind because “nobody would have hired me anyway.”

Every modern artist who has ever worked a mind-numbing 9 to 5 dreams of being gifted the time and resources to pursue their art full time. In Hunter’s situation, the extent of her creative freedom is limited to choosing curtain colors (and even this small choice provokes a snarky reply from her husband Richie Conrad, played by Austin Stowell). By the time Hunter swallows that first marble, prompted by a self-help book encouraging spontaneity, I found myself wondering how she held out for so long.

For realism’s sake, one can cite studies linking pregnancy and pica to explain Hunter’s newfound craving for push pins and chess pieces. In Swallow, Hunter’s pregnancy (and the Conrad family’s response to it) is the last brick kicked out from under a toppling foundation; the objects she swallows are the braces she uses to build a new one. It is no mistake that her pica is discovered during an ultrasound.

So many movies in the “woman on the verge of a breakdown” domestic horror subgenre demonstrate a clear lack of research on the director’s part. According to Carlo Mirabella-Davis, Swallow is an homage to his grandmother, a compulsive hand-washer in an unhappy marriage who suffered abuse at the mercy of the 1950s mental health system. In an interview, Mirabella-Davis said of his grandmother, “I always felt like she was being punished, in a way, for not living up to society’s expectations of what they felt a wife or mother should be.” Mirabella-Davis’ explanation makes sense given the link between trauma-induced obsessive compulsive disorder and the sufferer’s desire to control something – anything – about what happens next.

Unfortunately, he followed this statement up by admitting handwashing “isn’t very cinematic” but a picture he had seen of various items removed from the stomach of a pica sufferer made for a more interesting visual.

Critics of Swallow accuse Mirabella-Davis of misrepresenting pica for his own personal gains. As someone who suffers from an impulse control disorder myself, I urge viewers to approach this film with the knowledge that even mental health professionals admit pica, dermatillomania, trichotillomania, and a wide range of other body-focused compulsions are still largely underresearched and misunderstood by the masses. The main reason they’re underresearched is because sufferers of these disorders are less likely to seek help due to the social stigma and shame associated with abnormal behaviors deemed “gross” by society at large.

Swallow’s main controversy is its protagonist’s success in drawing power from an otherwise unhealthy behavior. The only other film I can think of that achieves this is Marina de Van’s Dans ma Peau, a New French Extremity film touching on themes of identity and self-ownership through a woman’s increasingly violent acts of self-mutilation. Although they explore similar themes, Dans ma Peau and Swallow are in stylistic opposition. De Van’s camera does not flinch as Esther (played by Marina de Van herself) hacks away at herself in erotic fascination. Mirabella-Davis, on the other hand, favors subtlety, letting the audience draw their own connections between images and their implications. At the peak of Hunter’s illness, a flash of miscellaneous objects on a mantlepiece is all we need to imagine them sliding down her gullet. This is a smart directorial choice given the film’s theme of repression.

The theme of repression reaches beyond Hunter’s aloof party face and the Conrad family’s forceful attempts to hide their own dark secrets. About two thirds of the way through the movie, we learn Hunter’s unhealthy relationship with men and low opinion of herself didn’t begin with Richie and his family. Perhaps one of the movie’s saddest scenes occurs in a shady therapist’s office where Hunter divulges a childhood secret that is clearly a big deal (even to her abusive husband who tries not to be a jerk for a hot minute but doesn’t know how). The monotone, journalistic voice in which she describes the incident must have taken a lot of practice on Haley Bennett’s part; if I had that role, it would be hard to remove the shakiness from my voice.

The last third of Swallow feels like a lifetime movie, but it couldn’t happen any other way. Hunter finds forgiveness in the end – forgiveness for herself, that is, because for once, she’s convinced she matters. What she wants for herself matters. And in the very last scene, she takes what she wants for herself in a public restroom at the mall, a stark contrast to her home’s pristine private bathroom, where she discreetly expelled various objects throughout the rest of the film. As the end credits roll, the camera lingers in the ladies room, focused on the full-wall mirror in front of the sinks. As women of all ages come and go, we’re meant to wonder what secrets these strangers hide and how many of them hold pain like Hunter’s. Somebody must have told Mirabella-Davis that some of the worst (and best) moments of a woman’s life happen in the bathroom. Either that, or like most men, he wonders why we go in groups.

Have you ever had a week when just making it to Friday felt like your life’s greatest achievement? For me, that was last week. Unfortunately for my pocketbook (but fortunately for my face), the stars aligned with my misery and I ended my crappy week on a payday. It was time to treat myself. For those of you who know me, “treating myself” usually translates to adding a luxury skincare product to my ever-expanding shelf.

Due to my indecisive nature and penny-pinching ways, I often spend hours scouring the SkincareAddiction and AsianBeauty subreddits (great resources, btw) for product reviews before making a commitment. It’s kind of like Googling a guy before a first date to make sure he’s not going to chop your face into tiny little pieces and burn the remains (kind of like a bad chemical peel). If he has a criminal record, you continue down the rabbit hole even after you’ve canceled the date. Not that this has happened to me, but …

Anyway, on the rare occasion I decide to trust my intuition (which amounts to maybe the 7 days or so of the first quarter moon?), I take my psychic energy to Sephora.com and see if anything in particular calls my name. On this occasion, Volition Beauty’s Detoxifying Silt Gelée Mask was singing a siren song.

Usually, when I’m called to a product promises to “detoxify and balance clogged pores,” it means my intuition is seriously off and I probably shouldn’t leave the house because everyone knows “detoxify,” “pores,” and possibly “silt” are all code words for “clay mask.” And if you’re a skincare addict with dry skin, you know “clay mask” is code for “Trouble Every Day.”

Nonetheless, Volition Beauty touts the silt gelée mask’s hydrating properties so in an uncharacteristically impulsive skincare purchase, I came to possess the Volition Beauty Detoxifying Silt Gelée Mask. Before I share my experience with this versatile wash-off black silt mask, let me introduce you to Volition Beauty.

Volition Beauty: About the Brand

“We exist to make the best clean skincare. For you, with you.” While a lot of beauty brands might have similar mission statements, few put their money where their mouth is quite like Volition Beauty.

Volition Beauty approaches skincare with an entrepreneurial spirit, offering the average person the chance to submit product ideas for their community to vote on. If an idea gets enough votes, Volition Beauty will make it happen. In fact, not only will they make it happen, but they’ll do it without parabens, sulfates, or animal cruelty (view a complete list of their banned ingredients here).

What makes Volition Beauty even more noteworthy (in addition to all the awesome stuff already mentioned) is that they pay their contributors. This concept should be common sense, but you’d be surprised how many companies think having your idea come to fruition is payment enough. Let’s hear a round of applause for Volition Beauty’s self-realization and demonstrated gratitude to their contributors!

I’ve only tried the detoxifying silt gelée mask, but they have a product for every step in your skincare routine from cleanser to sunscreen (and y’all know how much I love a good sunscreen!). One of these days, I’ll get around to trying all of them but now it’s time to give the Volition Beauty Detoxifying Silt Gelée Mask the love and attention it deserves!

The Product: Volition Beauty Detoxifying Silt Gelée Mask ($60)

At $60 for a 2 oz jar, the Volition Beauty Detoxifying Silt Gelée Mask has luxe written all over (most of) it. Fans of tactile sensation will appreciate running a finger over the jar’s smooth frosted glass almost as much as they’ll love the consistency and texture of the mask itself.

Volition Beauty was right on the mark in calling this product a “gelée mask” (i.e: ideal for dry skin types because oily types aren’t the only ones who need to detox sometimes). The mask, although it resembles (a poop-colored) clay in the jar, actually feels like a medium-consistency gel as it glides onto your face with ease.

That being said, when I hinted Volition’s packaging was “mostly” luxurious, I was referring to the plastic applicator spatula. The spatula is almost laughably useless and entirely too small to scoop the needed amount of product out of the jar, let alone actually apply it to your face. As someone who advocates for hygienic skincare and mostly avoids products in jars due to potential contamination, the spatula situation was disappointing to say the least.

Fortunately, I have my own arsenal of face mask application brushes, so this problem was easy to remedy for me. If you don’t have your own brush or spatula, I’d suggest buying one before using this product because Volition Beauty’s included spatula just isn’t going to cut it. However, this product is so amazing that their spatula problem wasn’t a complete deal-breaker for me.

Although pleasingly surprised with the detoxifying silt gelée mask’s texture, I’ll admit I was still leery about letting it work its magic because the usage instructions mimicked those of your typical clay mask: “Apply a generous amount while avoiding eye area. Leave on for 5-10 minutes. Use included sponge and water to remove. Apply 1 to 3 times a week. To activate sponge, run under water.” Although they didn’t specifically say to wait for the mask to “dry” on your face, I knew that was the insinuation. Or at least that was my assumption. What happened in the next 5-10 minutes defied my expectations and earned this product HG status in my beauty regimen.

Dry-skinned ladies and gents, this product is for you. Combination-skinned peeps? It’s for you too. My oily-skinned frenemies? Go out and get yourself a jar because this product is universally transcendent and “dries” without hardening or making the skin feel tight. Upon removal, my skin felt softer, plumper, and more supple. I glowed like an angel, not an oil slick. As for the “detoxifying and balancing” promises? Don’t pray to St. Anthony or anything but I seemed to have misplaced my pores.

As per their instructions, Volition Beauty includes two exfoliating sponges for mask removal. I must admit when I first saw these “sponges” (especially after the spatula fiasco) I thought to myself “these things remind me of the flat pieces of white cardboard paper DSW stuffs in boots to maintain their shape.” But guys, these sponges are the mind-blowingly futuristic college science experiments you’d see in an ideal world where you were actually good at science. (I’m speaking for myself here. Science was my archnemesis throughout my entire educational career.)

Volition Beauty notes that their sponges must be “activated” with water. This isn’t one of those highfalutin’ beauty brand product descriptions that use complicated language to say “wipe this goop off your face with a wet sponge.” No. When you run these sponges under your faucet, they will double in size and morph into the perfect “abrasive but not too abrasive” texture you’ve always been looking for in an exfoliating sponge.My only complaint here is that they only give you two of them. Wiping off a poop-colored mask with a white sponge will inevitably mean that sponge will never look pristine again. Since (thank goddess) there is enough of this product for more than two uses, chances are you’re going to end up wiping off your luxury mask with a plain old washcloth at some point. Not that washcloths can’t be luxe (if you don’t believe me, check out these bad boys ), but if I’m paying $60 for a product, I want all of its components to last until that $60 is fully spent.

Do I think the Volition Beauty Detoxifying Silt Geleé mask is worth the $60. Absolutely. I plan on using it once a week. I think the Gill-man approves too!

In a horror fan’s dictionary, “quarantine” generally comes before “zombie” and after “apocalypse.” Movies like Night of the Living Dead, Train to Busan, and 28 Days Later (as well as 2019’s fantastic Blood Quantum, if you’re looking for the most relevant 21st century zombie film) are always worth a rewatch, but played out in real time, the loneliness of long-term isolation is rarely hidden behind metaphor. If World War Z just isn’t doing it for you these days, check out these atmospheric isolation-themed horror movies:

May (2002)

Born with a lazy eye and a blunt, unintentionally traumatizing mother figure, May grew up with minimal social interaction. Her best “friend” is a doll named Susie her mother gifted her for her birthday along with the poor advice “if you can’t find a friend, make one.” Fast forward to adulthood and May gets contacts to fix her lazy eye, restoring her physical appearance to a more socially acceptable “normal.” May soon enters into a friendship and then sexual relationship with a local mechanic, whose hands she obsesses over, and a coworker, who “has a pretty neck.” Both new acquaintances originally tell her they “love” weird but soon begin to wish they could retract that statement. By the film’s end, you feel sorrier for May, who only wants to be seen, than for her victims, who refuse to acknowledge anything more than her outer appearance. I want to say I’d try to befriend May in real life, but the way she calmly talks about performing surgery on animals at the veterinary clinic she works at is more than a little off-putting.

Watch May.

Dans ma Peau (2002)

Although its runtime is only 93 minutes, Marina de Van’s graphic meditation on the link between self-mutilation and isolation is multilayered and full of subtext. Unlike the other movies on this list, Dans Ma Peau, a product of the New French Extremity movement, is not a film about depression. Have you ever picked a scab when no one was looking, fully aware of how gross scab-picking is? If you’re nodding your head right now (and if you’re not, you’re lying), you have something in common with Esther, the film’s protagonist. After injuring her leg on the way to a party and not realizing her injury until hours later, Esther’s curiosity turns into obsession as she engages in increasingly graphic forms of self-mutilation with an erotic, masturbatory glee. The further she pushes her body’s limits (and the more skin she removes), the further she distances herself from the people who could help her.

Watch Dans ma Peau

Phobia (2016)

On its most basic level, Phobia is about an artist who develops agoraphobia after being sexually assaulted by a taxi driver but soon starts to feel as threatened by what is inside her house as what lies outside. Sure, Indian director Pavan Kirpalani took more than a few cues from Roman Polanski’s Repulsion. However, unlike Polanski, Kirpalani employs the male best friend as his female protagonist’s protector. Opening with a quote from Kafka “I am a cage, in search of a bird,” Phobia is a notable film in that it addresses a woman’s consent, something that is rarely touched upon in Indian cinema. Phobia is the only movie on this list that uses hints of the supernatural to tell its story. It is also the only film that has what can be considered a hopeful ending. What makes this movie work so well is how it highlights the similarities between agoraphobic behavior and stereotypical damsel-in-distress, female sex stereotypes.

Watch Phobia

Christine (2016)

No, I’m not talking about Stephen King’s haunted car. In fact, Christine (2016) is not even technically billed as a horror flick, but as a biographical drama. News reporter Christine Chubbuck’s struggle with depression in a world where she is told “if it bleeds, it leads” culminates in her eventual suicide by gunshot on live television. Actress Rebecca Hall gives an Oscar-worthy performance of Chubbuck. If you’ve ever loved someone diagnosed with depression, everything from Hall’s lack of affect to slow, stunted movements will strike an eerily familiar chord. Although all movies on this list are disturbing in one way or another, Christine takes the cake.

Watch Christine

If you’ve ever wondered what the Grimm’s Fairy Tales would be like if they were written by a female and released smack dab in the middle of Trump’s presidency, you need to grab yourself a copy of Carmen Maria Machado’s debut short story collection. Her Body and Other Parties is a book that knows its roots but transcends them to form narratives that belong to no one else but its female protagonists. Its eight short stories use horror and science fiction as vehicles to address domestic and sexual violence, eating disorders and mental health, impossible and oxymoronic expectations placed on women every day, and other problems women face that will never end up on the Disney channel (at least not in this lifetime).

Machado’s work draws frequent comparisons with the reworked fairy tales of Angela Carter, and something tells me she’s totally fine with that. The book’s first story, “The Husband Stitch” is a grownup retelling of Alvin Schwartz’s “The Green Ribbon” (which was itself a retelling of Washington Irving’s 1824 short story “The Adventure of the German Student”). Boldly named after a surgical procedure in which extra sutures are used to tighten a woman’s vaginal opening following an episiotomy, “The Husband Stitch” recounts a marriage like any other, except in this marriage, of course, the woman has one part of her that is just for her: the green ribbon around her neck.

Instead of simply retelling an urban legend, “The Husband Stitch” brings other urban legends into its urban legend and directs its readers on how to tell its story. We are told tales of a girl who resurrects a sleeping corpse, a girl who unwittingly wears a corpse’s wedding dress, a girl who died in a trunk on her wedding day, and well, you get the picture. From the very first line, Machado makes it known that the girls in these urban legends, as well as her main protagonist, are not unique specimens. “If you read this story out loud, please use the following voices: Me: as a child, high-pitched, forgettable; as a woman, the same.” And then, after giving more robust voices to her husband, father, and son, “All other women: interchangeable with my own.” “The Husband Stitch” sets the book’s tone. Sex, death, and violence are dominant themes in every story, although some stories use them with more tenderness than others.

For example, “Inventory” and “Real Women Have Bodies” are stories of love and loss. In both, pandemics decimate the population as the female protagonists watch their lovers waste away before their eyes. While “Inventory” is written with a beautiful attention to detail and a rhythm that falls over you like waves, I much preferred “Real Women Have Bodies” for its creative, multi-layered premise. The pandemic in “Inventory” is reminiscent of what the world is currently experiencing with COVID-19: a mysterious illness that knows no boundary. “Real Women Have Bodies,” on the other hand, is about a pandemic that only affects women, dissolving their bodies from the outside in until they are completely transparent. What happens to them when they’re invisible is mostly left up to the reader to decide. Using a clothing store as the story’s setting, Machado creates a world you might find in a Cronenberg film. These stories work as love stories because death is a force outside human control.

“Mothers,” “Especially Heinous,” and “Difficult at Parties” use elements of magical realism to explore the darker side of sex, exposing the lasting impact of sexual violence. In “Mothers,” a miraculously conceived child becomes a symbol of an abusive same-sex relationship. In “Difficult at Parties,” a woman who has recently survived a sexual assault discovers she can hear the inner thoughts of porn stars. “Especially Heinous” is an ambitious attempt – one that sometimes falls flat – to rewrite all 272 episodes of Law & Order: SVU in a paragraph or less from the perspectives of Benson and Stabler. These stories embrace their difficult subject matter but refuse to delve into utter hopelessness, grasping for straws of hope in coworkers, spouses, and children that may or may not exist.

“Eight Bites” and “The Resident” depict mental illness, gender expectations, and the way desire and sex are irrevocably intertwined with self-esteem and concerns about the body. In “Eight Bites,” a woman is convinced by her sisters (and society at large) to undergo bariatric surgery, ruining her relationship with both herself and her similarly-sized daughter in the process. “The Resident” is a Victorianesque ghost story set at a Writer’s Colony. I won’t give any more away, but I will say literary types and fans of Jane Eyre will get a kick out of it.

Part of what makes Her Body and Other Parties so special is not only the stories themselves but also how they are woven together. “The Husband Stitch” is a twisted fairytale that assaults you immediately. “Inventory” takes a step back to let you recover your breath before plunging you back into the deep end with “Mothers” (arguably the saddest story in the book). The book’s chronology, coupled with Machado’s unusual mode of storytelling, produce a powerful experience that would not be possible within the confines of traditional narrative fiction.