Displacement by Kiku Hughes

★★★★½

I don't generally read a lot of graphic novels, but I really appreciate it as a medium for making certain topics, like Japanese internment camps, accessible to young readers. 

Kiku Hughes is 16 years old, half Japanese, and lives in 2016 Seattle. She doesn't know much about her Japanese American ancestry when she's suddenly and inexplicably transported to 1942 and finds herself in a Japanese internment camp, where she learns about Japanese American history by experiencing it first-hand.

I liked that the author actually used the term "incarceration camp" instead of "internment camp", a decision explained in the back of the book. I've always thought of "internment camp" as a euphemism that doesn't sufficiently convey the inhumanity of the camps.

I also really appreciated seeing a mixed-raced protagonist, which is still pretty rare in books, I think. It's hard enough trying to understand your identity as a 4th generation Asian American, and being half white just adds a whole other layer of complexity. 

And speaking of identity. Through illustrations, we know that Kiku and a friend were members of the LGBTQ community, but it wasn't mentioned in the text explicitly. 

This book explores generational and community trauma, then shows how that legacy can be used to help advance justice for other marginalized groups. The "current time" part of the book takes place during and after the 2016 presidential election. Clear parallels are drawn between the U.S. treatment of Japanese Americans during World War II and the Trump administration's anti-Muslim and anti-Latinx immigration policies. 

My only complaint is that we never learn anything at all about Kiku's grandfather or her white father. Her grandmother was apparently a single mother, and she later re-married, but I couldn't help but wonder what happened to the father of her children. Along the same lines, we also don't know anything about Kiku's white father. I understand that there's not much reason to include him for most of the book, but at the end, it would have been a nice showing of support to see him learning about Japanese American history and going to protests alongside his wife and daughter.  

Quiet Power: The Secret Strengths of Introverts by Susan Cain

★★★★

I bought this book as soon as it came out, since both my kids have introverted tendencies. But since the book is geared towards middle and high schoolers, and my kids were still in elementary school at the time, the content just didn't feel too relevant yet. Now that my kids are both teenagers, I'm glad I remembered to give this book another go; actually, I wish I had read it just a few years earlier, as I think this book can be helpful as soon as kids are in middle school and/or in their tween years.

Kids are the intended audience for this book, but I read it as a parent. I appreciated the insight into teen perspectives, and there were plenty of illustrative examples validating the experiences and feelings of introverted kids. The book also offered many concrete suggestions on how to "stretch" yourself as needed for various situations, and I came away with specific things I can do to help support my kids as they navigate school, friendships, and life at home.

The book is divided into four parts - school, socializing, hobbies, and home - each focused on how to leverage or manage your introverted nature in that particular arena. Every chapter ends with a clear, concise summary of key takeaway points, a convenient go-to section in case you have a reluctant reader or you're short on time.

Much of the content consists of stories of other introverts who achieved some level of success in some area, generally not in spite of their introversion but because of it. Sometimes a motivational story about a famous person made me think, "Great, but that person is clearly exceptional in their field, how does this help me, an ordinary person?" Stories about specific teenagers at first made me feel like, "Who is this random person?!" but in the end they did inspire a sense of, "Well, if they can do it, then so can I!"

I especially appreciated the afterword for teachers, describing how introverts can be better accommodated in schools, where the extroverted student ideal tends to be more frequently rewarded.

Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl

★★★★★

It seems inappropriate to review a person's diary, so I'm treating this review more like a book report.

Eleanor Roosevelt wrote the introduction in the edition I read, saying this about the book: "Reading it is a rich and rewarding experience." (p. x) And that's just it. This book enriches the life of the person who reads it.

Early on, it was almost prescient the way Anne laid out a simple biography of herself, and wondered who would be interested in what she wrote. From her light-hearted reports of her active social life at age 13, before going into hiding, to her thoughtful introspection from inside "the Secret Annex" at age 15, the diary could not have been better written if its future relevance was known and planned.

Anne Frank was clearly an exceptional teenager. She had more insight and self-awareness than most adults. She explicitly identified her ideals and worked on self-improvement. She understood and articulated the value of hard work and the importance of strength of character. She formulated her own perspectives and philosophies on intelligence, nature, and religion.

I see Anne's diary as an example of humanity in its purest form. Even in hiding, knowing her life was in danger, her day-to-day concerns included typical mother/daughter conflict and musings on boys. She wrote about concentration camps and the Gestapo, too, but she knew that constant focus on the war and the suffering of Jews would break her spirit. She was wise beyond her years in writing, "I don't think then of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains." (p. 154)

We see the statistic that 6 million Jewish people died during World War II, but in reading Anne's diary, we can better understand that it was 6 million individuals, 6 million persons each with potential and value - like Anne - who were lost to the world.

Too frequently I finish a book only to find that there are appendices that I would have appreciated reading sooner, so I'll mention that the edition I have has a 3-part afterword that I'm glad I read in between reading diary entries. Part I was a brief historical summary, providing relevant context for the diary. (Notably, it was truly remarkable how the description of Hitler's rise, written decades ago, was disturbingly similar to Trump's rise.) Part II explained what happened to Anne and the others after the diary ends. Part III described how the book came to be published, how Anne's story has continued to be spread, and how her life has continued to be meaningful, even after her death.

You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson

★★★★½

Liz is a poor, Black, queer teenager in a wealthy, predominantly white Indiana suburb that is obsessed with prom. She is an unlikely candidate for prom queen, but enters the competition in hopes of winning the college scholarship that goes with the crown. Over the course of the campaign, we see Liz gain confidence as she asserts herself as worthy of the title and learns that, despite usually being on the margins of her high school's social scene, she, too, can feel like she belongs. Along the way, she has to navigate complex friendships, serious and emotional family matters, and a budding romance.

Published and set in a pandemic-free 2020, the book feels modern and relevant, with characters matter-of-factly acknowledging the importance of consent for both casual physical contact and romantic overtures. There are plenty of pop culture references, the pages sprinkled with passing mentions of celebrities like Simone Biles and Timothée Chalamet, and shows like Hamilton and Stranger Things. Entertaining and funny, the book is light and easy-to-read, though it also addresses some heavy issues like the loss of a parent and life-threatening illness.

Liz's first romantic relationship is a typical teenage romance, the object of her affection just happens to be a girl. Her sexuality is not a central focus of the book, though it does realistically come into play as a factor in her electability as prom queen. Similarly, Liz's race is not a primary focus of the book, but her being one of the few Black students in school does come up. In fact, I had a little chuckle when Liz's narrative referenced one of my favorite memes: "I try to channel the confidence of a mediocre white man in a boardroom: untouchable." (p. 255)

I'm giving this book just half a star shy of 5 stars because I didn't think it was believable that Liz wasn't disciplined after her very public use of the F-word in school. (For those who might want to know, the F-word is only explicitly written out once; after that, "eff" is used instead.) Also, I get that Rachel was supposed to be an unsympathetic character, but in a book full of well-fleshed-out characters, she just felt too one-dimensional to me.

While Justice Sleeps by Stacey Abrams

★★★★

I don't usually read political thrillers, but I follow American politics, and the author being Stacey Abrams was enough to pique my interest.

I got the feeling that Abrams really enjoyed writing this book. There were lots of fun word choices, like when a woman is described as "an eggplant-attired matron of impeccable breeding and questionable chromatic theory." (p. 177) I could just imagine the author chuckling to herself and being really proud of that phrasing.

This book is a light read, easy and entertaining. My husband would call it "popcorn reading". There is drama from the very beginning and the action is non-stop, with quite a few unexpected developments. It was certainly a page-turner for me, with sufficient suspense to keep me wondering and occasional oblique references to things you assume will be spelled out later. Early on there was what I considered an unrealistic guessing of a password - Do people really have predictable passwords these days? - but I got over it and made sure to put myself into suspended disbelief mode for the rest of the book. It was easy to imagine the story unfolding like in a movie; if it gets adapted, I'd see it for sure!

Incidentally, I appreciated the diversity of the characters; the protagonist is mixed-race white and Black, and her best friend is Asian.

The BFG by Roald Dahl

★★★★

My son read this book multiple times while in elementary school, and I finally got around to reading it myself.

The Big Friendly Giant's unusual vocabulary makes for super fun reading, especially for reading aloud. The story is a fairy tale complete with giants, an orphan with access to the Queen of England, and a happy ending.

Concerned parents may want to know that the BFG is the only giant who does not eat humans (the BFG pronounces "cannibal" as "cannybull"), and the story is about how the orphan Sophie and the BFG work together to stop the other giants from eating humans. There is an interesting bit of social commentary when the BFG questions how Sophie can judge giants for eating humans when humans themselves kill other humans and eat other animals.

From a Whisper to a Rallying Cry: The Killing of Vincent Chin and the Trial that Galvanized the Asian American Movement by Paula Yoo

★★★★★

This book is an incredible read.

With this book, specifically written for teenage readers, there is now a readily accessible way for all American students, Asian or not, to learn about this critically important piece of American civil rights and Asian American history. Chapters are short, concise, and very approachable. But even though it's YA, it does not pull any punches; every detail of the murder and trial is laid bare. Parents should know that this book uses the word "motherfucker" explicitly, as well as racial slurs like Chink, Nip, and Jap, but only because they are part of direct quotes related to the case. There's also a passing mention of prostitution.

I think the author choosing to tell the story interspersed with the experiences of Jarod Lew was brilliant. I didn't know about Vincent Chin until well after college, and the fact that Jarod didn't know about Vincent Chin until he was 25 was not only believable to me, but actually representative of my generation of Asian Americans.

Having read Asian American Dreams by Helen Zia, who played a major role in the activism surrounding the Vincent Chin case, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what happened. Still, this book presented a deluge of information that was new to me, including heartwarming and heartbreaking anecdotes about Vincent, his mother, his friends, and the activists demanding justice. As a mother myself, I bawled every time Lily Chin's part of the story was told; I could feel the weight of the enormity of what she suffered and how much she fought.

Given the target audience, I liked the occasional reminder of how events occurred before social media and even before personal computers were prevalent, e.g., the way flyers and press releases had to be typewritten, cut and pasted, and frequently hand-delivered to recipients. (p. 93-94, 130) I also appreciated how the author connected the behaviors of people involved in the case to relevant terminology that is used today but which was not yet coined in the 1980s, like "white privilege" (p. 239) and "toxic masculinity" (p. 241).

It's clear the author did an immense amount of research, getting perspectives from basically every person remotely involved in the case, on both sides. Paula Yoo impressively managed to walk the fine line of humanizing the killers without excusing their actions or defending their light sentences.   

Notably, the book is physically heavy. Each page is printed on glossy photo paper, which allows pictures to be displayed throughout the book according to their relevance to the text. I actually love this formatting because when photos are grouped together in the middle of a book, I always feel a little annoyed having to flip back and forth between text and related photos. I also liked that any time images with text were included, they were printed with enough clarity to actually be read.

Incidentally, there's an episode of the They Call Us Bruce podcast with the author, Paula Yoo, which I also highly recommend. It's an excellent conversation with even more behind-the-scenes tidbits.  

Untamed by Glennon Doyle

★★★★

My kids were at the exact right age for me to appreciate Glennon Doyle when her Momastery blog posts first went viral. Her "Don't Carpe Diem" post really resonated with me, and I also loved her post about how a teacher looked out for lonely students in her classroom. 

As my kids grew up, I drifted away from mom blogs. At some point, I heard that Glennon Doyle got divorced and married Abby Wambach the soccer player!? Well, I didn't follow the news, and I haven't read her previous two books, but a friend of mine gifted this book to me, so I read it.

Untamed is mostly short chapters that read like blog entries. It's part memoir, part self-help. Glennon shares the story of how she answered the question, "Who was I before I became who the world told me to be?" (p. 6). The title Untamed refers to the evolution by which she unlearned the expectations imposed by society and learned to know, trust, and be her true self. Using analogies and examples from her own life, she urges her readers to "search for and depend upon the voice of inner wisdom instead of voices of outer approval." (p. 60) I was impressed with her openness in sharing her personal story and journey from feeling broken to feeling whole. 

About halfway through this book, I was prepared to give it a 3-star rating. The ideas were not without merit, but as I have always been a self-reflective and thinking person, they were not new or revelatory to me. In fact, I had a little chuckle when literally the last line of prose in the book finally acknowledged that some people "never become tamed in the first place." (p. 333) Though this first half of the book wasn't exactly relatable for me, I could imagine that her target audience - women who felt "tamed", or caged - would have much to appreciate. Glennon's message is uplifting and encouraging and basically gives readers permission to do whatever is true to themselves, even if it flies in the face of convention. Maybe "permission" isn't the right word, because the whole point is that no one needs permission to control their own lives, but she does provide readers with reassurance that it's okay to do what's right for you, even if others think you are selfish or crazy or weak or a weirdo.

I was pleasantly surprised when my interest piqued as the book progressed, and I decided to bump up the rating to 4 stars. It felt like a bit of an epiphany when she laid out how women have been trained to believe in an elusive ideal of womanhood that actually erases us as individuals, i.e., how "[t]he highest praise [is]: She is so selfless... The epitome of womanhood is to lose one's self completely." (p. 116) She astutely wrote about how her philanthropy led her to understand that "[w]here there is great suffering, there is often great profit," (p. 254) and I also just liked one of her core tenets: "We can do hard things." (pg. 291)

Finally, I think it's noteworthy that Glennon devoted a lengthy, weighty chapter to racism. Again, she did not write anything groundbreaking or eye-opening to me, but she quoted Martin Luther King, Jr.'s views on white moderates and challenged her readers to take a good look at themselves and ask how they might be inadvertently contributing to white supremacy in America. I saw this chapter as Glennon planting seeds of antiracism in an audience of liberal white women who might not otherwise take the time to listen or engage in self-examination. Along the same lines, given her reputation as a Christian blogger, I liked that she used her platform to present LGBTQ and pro-choice perspectives to an audience that might typically lean anti-LGBTQ and anti-choice. In the end, the book seemed to have a "Come for the feminist self-care, stay for the introduction to social justice" kind of vibe.

Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu

★★★★

So clever! Such innovative storytelling! This book is structured as a script, written in a second person narrative with the "you" being the main character, Willis Wu. The world of Interior Chinatown is both meta and metaphorical; the lines are blurred between real life and the TV show in which Willis Wu plays bit parts.

Charles Yu makes on-point social commentary of Asian American representation and stereotypes that is both scathing and funny. He shines a light on societal perceptions of Asian Americans and their struggle to find a place in a world where white and black people are center stage and Asians are relegated to the margins, seen as perpetual foreigners as described on page 119: "To be yellow in America. A special guest star, forever the guest." The relationships, observations, and emotions are authentic and familiar, in my opinion clearly written by an Asian American writing about what he knows. The portrayal of Willis's aging immigrant parents was particularly poignant.

Older Brother sums up the problem in a climactic scene on page 228: "[W]hen you think of American, what color do you see? White? Black? ... We've been here 200 years... Why doesn't this face register as American? ... If we haven't cracked the code of what it's like to be inside this face, then how can we explain it to anyone else?" Over the course of the book, Willis learns to be more comfortable in his own skin and comes to realize that he can pursue his own goals, he doesn't have to be limited by what others have prescribed for him to achieve.  

I especially enjoyed the "Generic Asian Kid" montage on page 157, a universal sequence with no specific Asian American references, beautifully descriptive, of childhood highs and lows spanning all the familiar scenes that make for nostalgic memories. Also, I appreciated the list of anti-Asian U.S. laws on pages 215-216 and 259, which made explicit the systemic racism Asian Americans have faced. 

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

★★★★★

This book is frequently described as "a series of vignettes", but reading it in 2021, it strikes me how similar the format is to modern blogs. Combined with the lack of quotation marks (which is explained in the Introduction of my edition), the short chapters felt like diary entries to me.

I don't read a lot of poetry, but this book felt like poetry posing as prose. The narrator, Esperanza, writes about her family and her neighborhood, weaving together a tapestry of life with a backdrop of poverty and immigrant experiences. While certainly readable for middle schoolers, The House on Mango Street may be better suited for older, teenaged readers; the writing is deeply emotional and touches upon topics of domestic violence and sexual assault and themes of feminism and self-determination. I followed Esperanza's transition from childhood to adolescence with a sense of both sorrow and hope.

Published in 1984, this book has a bit of outdated language (e.g., "Eskimo", "Oriental") that was widely acceptable in the 1980s but which would be considered inappropriate today. I don't hold these references against the book, in fact, I think it makes this book a good example of how society and sensibilities evolve. Having grown up in the 1980s, I even felt a bit of nostalgia at the mention of photo negatives, and I wonder if some young readers today might not know what they are?

The edition I read included a wonderful Introduction written by the author in 2008 that described the context of who Sandra Cisneros was as a person when she wrote the book, and how the stories and characters came to be. 

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi

★★★★

I picked up this book because I am already a fan of Ibram X. Kendi and Jason Reynolds. I was probably biased to like it even before I read it.

It's clear that this book was written for middle and high schoolers. The tone was casual and conversational, and the text at times flowed better if I imagined Jason Reynolds was speaking the words in front of me. The fact that I think of this book as using "hip lingo" just shows how I am old and not the target audience. 

Though the back cover loudly proclaims, "This is NOT a history book," actually, it is, just not in the traditional sense. The history presented in this book makes clear how anti-Black racism has always been and continues to be used to oppress and divide those without power so that those with power can stay in power or achieve even more political or financial gain. Much of the analysis is presented in terms of segregationism, assimilationism, and antiracism, big ideas that Reynolds makes easily accessible. This book provides the foundation one needs to better understand how racism is not just a problem with people individually, but a systemic problem rooted in policies, and how those policies have come about.

This book calls itself a "remix" of Ibram X. Kendi's book Stamped from the Beginning, which I am now inspired to read. There is so much information, mostly presented in broad strokes, that I am interested in reading the original book, which I assume fleshes out more of the details.  

This book would be a valuable read for any student because it lays bare how the typical history presented in most classrooms is whitewashed, omitting many harsh truths. I wondered, however, if some ideas weren't getting explained well enough for the intended audience of young readers. For example, the book mentioned affirmative action (p. 223, 230), but didn't define it. The reader is assumed to understand that affirmative action should be supported, but for those who haven't thought much about it, or who might not even know what it is, I think some further commentary would have helped to shed light on why affirmative action is considered controversial. 

Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang

★★★★

I generally do not read much sci-fi, so I'm not exactly the target audience for this collection of short stories. I picked up this book because my husband, who is a big fan of sci-fi, enjoyed it, and I liked the idea of supporting an Asian American author by reading his work. (It may or may not be worth noting that none of these stories explicitly include any Asian characters, but I'm still putting it on my figurative "Asian" shelf for author representation.)

I very much appreciated the "Story Notes" included at the end of the book, in which the author describes a bit of the motivation behind each story. Reading this section felt like getting bonus "behind the scenes" material.       

Pretty much all of the stories have a thought-provoking premise, so much so that it felt like many of them were written with the express purpose of exploring a particular, profound idea. In "Division of Zero", Chiang asks what would happen if a person's foundation for truth is shattered. In "Seventy-Two Letters", he examines philosophical and moral questions of humanity, as well as the power of language. "Hell is the Absence of God" addresses the common questions of "What happens when bad things happen to good people?" and "Why do good things happen to some people and not others?", but Chiang takes it a step further by bravely writing a story that has "the courage of its convictions", as he explains in the "Story Notes". (p. 280) "Liking What You See: A Documentary" feels like it was an exercise in exploring all sides of an issue, including possible behaviors of involved individuals and organizations, and ending up in a reasonable compromise position.

In many of the stories, I felt a kind of heaviness while reading, maybe even some anxiety, like there was a sense of impending doom. In "Tower of Babylon", it just felt like no good could come from breaching the vault of heaven. In "Understand", the main character's pursuit of superintelligence led him to a dark, isolated existence. "Division of Zero" could very well have used a content warning for suicide. "Story of Your Life" had a grey, depressing aura throughout. (I'm eager to watch Arrival, the film adaptation, to compare with the book.) And while "Hell is the Absence of God" had elements of faith, it was ultimately dispiriting. I was actually quite relieved that the book ended with "Liking What You See: A Documentary", a relatively fun and light-hearted read delivered in a clever, original format. 

As a final note, I will mention that this book sure broadened my vocabulary! It was kind of fun looking up new words practically every few pages, words like "onagers" and "antimacassar". 

What Unites Us: Reflections on Patriotism by Dan Rather & Elliot Kirschner

★★★★★

Years ago, I associated Dan Rather mostly with this crazy quote I remember hearing him say in real time on the news during the 2000 election: “This race is as tight as a too-small bathing suit on a too-hot car ride back from the beach.”

In more recent years, I know him for his level-headed, poignant, and inspiring posts on social media.

This book is part memoir, part history lesson, and part commentary. Each chapter is an essay on an institution or idea upon which democracy depends and which we as patriots must defend. The tone is conversational, frequently nostalgic, and generally uplifting. Mr. Rather covers a wide range of topics, from obvious principles such as voting rights and freedom of the press to more foundational concepts such as belief in science, pursuit of knowledge and art, and preservation of the environment. In his own life spanning more than 80 years, and in his role as a journalist, Mr. Rather truly had a front-row seat to history, which he outlines in broad strokes as he recounts his personal role in specific events. 

As a liberal progressive, I frequently found myself thinking that Mr. Rather was clearly writing about what unites Democrats. Are conservative Republicans also reading this book, hoping to see the potential for a more unified country? I hope they, too, agree that "building tolerance is a worthy way station to a much grander destination of inclusion." (p. 74) It was certainly encouraging to be reminded of times past when our leaders were not so polarized, for example, when President Reagan expressed support for amnesty for undocumented immigrants. (p. 119)

I appreciate that, when addressing some of the darker times of our national history, instead of trying to insist that "this isn't who we are," as many often do, Mr. Rather says, "This is not good enough; we can be better." (p. 17) He stops short of saying that we, as a nation, are defined by the worst of us, but at least he acknowledges that our nation is flawed, and we are on an endless mission to do better. 

There is nothing earth-shatteringly insightful in this book, but it is a timely publication, written after the 2016 election. Having read this book in the days surrounding President Biden's inauguration, I actually feel optimistic again. What Unites Us is both a balm for the soul in unsettling times and a call to action to continually work to improve our nation.   

Keeper of the Lost Cities Roundup

An immersive fantasy world reminiscent of Harry Potter but with an exciting enough story arc to keep it feeling different.

• Keeper of the Lost Cities (#1) ★★★★½
• Exile (#2) ★★★
• Everblaze (#3) ★★★½
• Neverseen (#4) ★★★★½
• Lodestar (#5) ★★★★
• Nightfall (#6) ★★★
• Flashback (#3) ★★½

Flashback (Keeper of the Lost Cities #7) by Shannon Messenger

★★½

*** Warning: This review contains spoilers!! ***

Early on in the series, when I read one book after another, I complained that there was too much recap at the beginning of each book. Now that I'm picking up book 7 after a long hiatus, I can't remember anything, and I need all the recap I can get! Still, it's not enough, there are so many references to things I don't remember at all. Oh, well.

I feel a little bad about my relatively low rating of this book, but it was just too long, with too much dialog that felt like filler, and not enough action. The book started out promising, but then fizzled, and I was halfway through before I felt like things started happening again. As in other books in the series, the storytelling that moved events forward continued to feel sloppy, with everyone mostly guessing at what the evildoers' plans were, then landing on a theory with a declaration of, "That makes sense."

I really enjoyed the creation of the multi-species bodyguard team; I liked the idea of all the species working together.

I didn't enjoy the additional focus on the Fitz-Sophie-Keefe love triangle; I'm just not a fan of romance being tangled up in action stories. Sophie still strikes me as "young", like a teenybopper compared to Fitz and Keefe being more in the "older teenager" category. I am not sure what is so desirable about Sophie to make her the target of everyone's affection, except that she's the moonlark, which makes her mysterious and special. I think both Biana and Linh having admirers would be more believable. Anyway, as eye-rolling as this sub-plot is to me, I was glad to finally see movement in the story line, and a resolution. And given how I think of Sophie as "young", I was pleased to see her put the brakes on moving too fast with Fitz. She may have been unbelievably oblivious to Fitz's feelings for her, but she was remarkably aware and mature in understanding her own feelings for Fitz, and recognizing that she wasn't really ready for a relationship yet. Wow! I super appreciated the good modeling for young readers.

Events finally picked up towards the end of the book, and the plot developments - particularly those including Alvar and "the Vacker legacy" - did not disappoint! In my mind, the ending lifted the book to 2 1/2 stars. Not sure if I will continue the series, but I'm not ruling it out.