A review by monasterymonochrome
Cherokee Bat and the Goat Guys, by Francesca Lia Block
3.0
In my edition of Dangerous Angels, this book is longer than the first two in the series, but it somehow feels much shorter. The chapters are longer, and so there are less of them, and maybe this contributes, or maybe it's that this book feels much more contained to a very specific sequence of events rather than freewheeling indiscriminately through time. But I think it might more likely be the fact that something just feels like it's missing. The specific story Block concocts here feels like it could do with a bit more fleshing out to make it really sparkle.
I loved that this revolved around Cherokee, Witch Baby, and their friends deciding to start a band (which reminded me of and made me more eager to reread another Block book, the oft-forgotten Ecstasia). That's always a fun concept, and it was made even more intriguing by the idea of the gifts each band member gradually receives (wings made with real bird feathers for Witch Baby, goat-like haunches for Raphael, goat horns for Angel Juan, and heavy black hooves for Cherokee). These gifts are more sinister than they appear on the surface, seemingly imbued with a strange black magic that propels the band's success but strains their relationships and compels them toward drugs, alcohol, and violence. I thought this idea was really cool, but I think Block wastes too many pages on the giving of these gifts, leaving her with very little space to explore their more nefarious effects. The worst of their influence is seemingly introduced and resolved in a chapter or two, which lessens the threat significantly and, I feel, lets Cherokee and Witch Baby off too easy for their oblivious greediness in acquiring them.
As Cherokee gathers materials for her gifts, Block seems to be weaving a lesson into the narrative, that you can't keep taking things from the earth, even when you ask for them nicely, without expecting some consequences. This is an important and relevant message (maybe even more so now than when she wrote the book), but it is too often complicated by Block's penchant for Native American appropriation. Unfortunately, this is something that permeates the whole series, and I imagine it's probably at its worst here. Each chapter opens with a Native American song/poem, which only reads as tone-deaf and cringe-worthy today. The one Indigenous character, Coyote, is there largely to support the white protagonist, to issue vague, ominous warnings each time she comes back asking for his help with another gift but to rescue her anyway when she ignores him. It also gave me pause how many references there are to the "shack" he lives in, while the Bat homestead is always described in rich, opulent, fairytale-esque words.
The story here is interesting and engaging, but it's hard to sit back and enjoy it without reservation through a lens more than 30 years removed from the one through which Block wrote this. Cherokee's perspective is certainly a less irritating and bratty one than Witch Baby's in the previous book, but as likable as she can be, it's hard to erase from your mind the image of a skinny ghost-pale white girl sleeping in a teepee, running around in headdresses and moccasins, and taking advantage of her parents' Native American friend and his culture.
I loved that this revolved around Cherokee, Witch Baby, and their friends deciding to start a band (which reminded me of and made me more eager to reread another Block book, the oft-forgotten Ecstasia). That's always a fun concept, and it was made even more intriguing by the idea of the gifts each band member gradually receives (wings made with real bird feathers for Witch Baby, goat-like haunches for Raphael, goat horns for Angel Juan, and heavy black hooves for Cherokee). These gifts are more sinister than they appear on the surface, seemingly imbued with a strange black magic that propels the band's success but strains their relationships and compels them toward drugs, alcohol, and violence. I thought this idea was really cool, but I think Block wastes too many pages on the giving of these gifts, leaving her with very little space to explore their more nefarious effects. The worst of their influence is seemingly introduced and resolved in a chapter or two, which lessens the threat significantly and, I feel, lets Cherokee and Witch Baby off too easy for their oblivious greediness in acquiring them.
As Cherokee gathers materials for her gifts, Block seems to be weaving a lesson into the narrative, that you can't keep taking things from the earth, even when you ask for them nicely, without expecting some consequences. This is an important and relevant message (maybe even more so now than when she wrote the book), but it is too often complicated by Block's penchant for Native American appropriation. Unfortunately, this is something that permeates the whole series, and I imagine it's probably at its worst here. Each chapter opens with a Native American song/poem, which only reads as tone-deaf and cringe-worthy today. The one Indigenous character, Coyote, is there largely to support the white protagonist, to issue vague, ominous warnings each time she comes back asking for his help with another gift but to rescue her anyway when she ignores him. It also gave me pause how many references there are to the "shack" he lives in, while the Bat homestead is always described in rich, opulent, fairytale-esque words.
The story here is interesting and engaging, but it's hard to sit back and enjoy it without reservation through a lens more than 30 years removed from the one through which Block wrote this. Cherokee's perspective is certainly a less irritating and bratty one than Witch Baby's in the previous book, but as likable as she can be, it's hard to erase from your mind the image of a skinny ghost-pale white girl sleeping in a teepee, running around in headdresses and moccasins, and taking advantage of her parents' Native American friend and his culture.