Something Good #93: The Was That Year
First, a fundraiser update: Our campaign to raise money for Doctors Without Borders continues. (The quick version: donate at the fundraising page, send me your address and I will send you some gorgeous bookplates, pictured above, at my expense.) We have sailed past our initial $2,000 goal easily, and now we are approaching the $3,000 mark. I would very much like to hit our new goal of $4,000 before the month is out! If you’ve ever wondered how you could support this free newsletter, financially speaking, this would be it. This is a proudly money-losing venture, but I’m happy to divert your goodwill towards a more deserving cause.
Once again, donate here, then email me here, and I’ll get these ‘plates out the door at some point in the New Year.
This year. Hmm. Lots of wonderful things, lots of pain, physical and otherwise. War arrived suddenly and horrifically while we were on vacation. I lost friends to death, two in as many weeks, in circumstances that were completely unexpected and which I am still trying to process.
Being a human is no easier than it ever has been, and some years you feel it more than others.
Despite it all, I’m grateful for what I have, grateful for you readers, grateful to still be here.
And I have a funny story. Yesterday my physiotherapist informed me of a second pinched nerve in my benighted body, a coincidental second occurrence of a problem that had plagued me all autumn, this time caused by a cold that had me coughing myself at times almost into unconsciousness. The conversation went something like this:
Physiotherapist: You really shouldn’t let this get any worse. Take it easy. This isn’t the kind of pain you want to power through.
Mark: That’s okay, I’m a big baby when it comes to pain.
Physiotherapist: Keep being a big baby!
My New Year’s resolution, right there. I will keep being a big baby, on my doctor’s orders.
That said—here’s some of what life would have been less without this year:
I read a lot of books. Of the ones that were published this year, I especially loved Ann Leckie’s Translation State. She continues to be one of the best ones doing it when it comes to writing science fiction. A true writer, even a great one. Zeke Faux’s Number Goes Up was a, and I don’t use this word very often, rollicking journey through the hellishly stupid world of crypto. Old friend Michelle Min Sterling’s Camp Zero was a sci-fi novel that touched on climate and community with formal invention and sheer page-turning, magnetic prose. James Islington’s The Will of the Many was basically ancient Rome + boarding school + a weird magic system and that was enough to keep me reading. And then there were the older books I read, like Octavia Butler’s Dawn, which may be one of the best sci-fi novels ever written. Not to mention all our selections, more on which below.
Music. Much to love this year. There was Romy’s triumphant dance record Mid Air, a late-2023 discovery for me I’ve had on repeat for the last month. Cat Power Sings Dylan: The 1966 Royal Albert Hall Concert is exactly that, a live, song-for-song cover version of the famously bootlegged concert where people got mad at Bobby D. and yelled “Judas!” at him, which is faithfully recreated here. I listened to this so much Karen had to tell me to stop. Sofia Kourtesis’ Madres is emotional, epic dance music of the sort I will never get enough of. Nothing’s Gonna Stand in My Way Again, the latest record by Lydia Loveless, was not the kind of thing (alt-country, I guess?) I expected to be listening to this year, but it wormed its way into my brain. Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS is pure chaotic-good joy. Alan Palomo’s World of Hassle features my album cover of the year; it looks like it could have been released on Ze Records in 1982 and sorta sounds like it too. Respect to anybody keeping that August Darnell spirit alive. (If you know, you know.)
And of course, CFCF’s beautiful You Can Live Forever (Original Motion Picture Score) finally got a release this year. Couldn’t leave that one out.
Movies? How about Killers of the Flower Moon—masterpiece. Fallen Leaves—Aki Kaurismaki never disappoints, Finnish miserablism at its most gorgeous. Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is the only superhero movie property I really have time for anymore. It’s just too beautiful to ignore, something I never expected to say about a Marvel movie. I loved Polite Society’s energy, characterization, extreme abundance of charm and fight scenes. Asteroid City, the original Barbenheimer, with its magnificent colours (although I thought Killers of the Flower Moon’s story-within-a-story framing device was a lot more meaningful). Barbie, of course, was a blast too.
Games? I loved The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, am currently loving Octopath Traveler 2, really dug Baldur’s Gate 3 although I need to play it more. Thirsty Suitors is a treat and narrative designer Meghna Jayanth’s interview on Simon Parkin’s excellent podcast My Perfect Console is a must-listen. Goodboy Galaxy is the first new game developed for the Gameboy Advance in 15 years, and it was worth the wait. Super Mario Wonder had me laughing with joy.
Newsletters! The more I retreat from social media, the more I appreciate this weird little form. My year was enhanced by McKinley Valentine’s The Whippet, a model of all a newsletter can and should be, by Read Max, by Today in Tabs, by Andrew Liptak’s good-hearted sci-fi/fantasy-oriented Transfer Orbit, by the mighty Garbage Day.
Finally, of course, tea towels. James made some and they’re great. Definitely my favourite tea towels of the year. Available here for a limited time.
In Something Good things of note: 2023 marked the launch of , a chill sub-Substack for us to hang out and read travel writing about places real and imaginary. We have covered some wonderful books so far: Jan Morris’s Hav, Bruce Chatwin’s In Patagonia, Angélica Gorodischer’s Kalpa Imperial: The Greatest Empire That Never Was. Join us! A fully asynchronous enterprise, you may choose to read one, all, or several of our selections in any order, at any time, then come back and check in or join the convo. This post is as good a place as any to start:
In September, my old project Sad YouTube came roaring back into my life in the most unexpected way. This is probably my favourite thing I’ve written in a long time, and certainly the most delightful conversation I’ve had all year.
Something Good #88: Irene - by Mark Slutsky
A mysterious story of unrequited love, discovered in a 12-year-old YouTube comment.
In April I wrote about an idea that’s been knocking around in my head for years, a concept I call “good-handedness.” This was picked up by some creativity-focused writers and such. I’m glad it resonated.
Something Good #82: In Good Hands - by Mark Slutsky
Openings.
If you’re new to the newsletter, those two posts are a pretty good place to start.
Bonus tracks: Every year I share this mix with my friends and readers. It’s music that’s good to listen to during the holidays, and only partially “holiday music.” It always makes me feel good.
One more thing I want to mention. I’ve become more and more uncomfortable with Substack as a hosting platform for this newsletter, given the amount they are happily to collect money on behalf of newsletters with swastikas in their banners that openly discuss topics like “the Jewish question.” I like the service Substack offers very much, but the fact that I even have to raise the question of whether it’s OK to share space with Nazis tells me it’s worth looking for alternatives. (This is not a question that can be boiled down to free speech principles, by the way; Substack is happy to ban content like pornography, so clearly they draw a line somewhere.) I’m not committing to the painful process of transitioning but I want you to know I’m very much trying to figure this out. This open letter, posted across a variety of ‘stacks, sums up my feelings nicely. Worth reading.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for listening. Thank you for watching. Thank you for playing. This has been Something Good. Don’t forget to donate. See you next week. Love, your big baby.
