I’ve been on a (not so comfortable) roll reading about pedophiles and people who take advantage of the vulnerable. Even though the #Metoo Movement brought to light the imbalance of power among relationships and the complex condition for the abused to remain silent, that silence is LOUD. 

Nobody’s Girl: A Memoir of Surviving Abuse and Fighting for Justice by Virginia Roberts Giuffre is the latest of my readings that drove this idea home. Virginia was failed by her mother, her father (who sexually abused her and then “lent” her to his friend and when the friend “found Jesus,” Virginia’s father forced her to apologize to the friend for seducing him), foster parents, a juvenile facility in Florida, countless employees of Jeffrey Epstein, her main abuser, Ghislaine Maxwell and so many others that I don’t want to write them here. It’s sick making.

I’ve discussed this book with a couple of people who said, “I don’t want to read about [sexual abuse].” And I get it. Neither did I. As a high school English teacher for 25 years, a college writing teacher for five years, and in my current role as a writing tutor, I have reported abuse that students talked to me about. It’s uncomfortable. It’s embarrassing (for the abused), and nobody in their right mind wants to be a party to any of it, but reporting abuse is how we can make it stop. Abusers will not stop on their own. My fear is that this book will simply become another in a long line of books about abuse that people gossip about and say, “Oh my gosh, wasn’t that horrible?” And readers might even feel good about themselves having read the book, so that they can report to others (who won’t read it) how horrible Virginia’s abuse was. 

Here's what I want to happen: If you know that someone is being abused, tell someone with the authority to make the abuse stop. Full stop.

Over two years ago, I wrote a Book Blog post that reviewed the book The Rise and Fall of Royal America.[1] Halfway through the post, I revealed that the review was entirely written with Google’s AI, specifically a large language model (LLM) called Bard. At that time, AI was just gaining popular traction, but I do not think we were prepared for today’s AI revolution. 

Now that these tools are part of daily life, I wanted to revisit writing with an LLM with another book: Gordon S. Wood’s Empire of Liberty. This time, however, I did not take the first output the chatbot gave me. Instead, I wrote and edited the post entirely within the chatbot’s environment to make it sound more like me. For this exercise, I used Google’s Gemini (previously Bard) and followed Chicago Manual of Style’s new guidance on citing AI use which encourages placing a link to the session transcript in a footnote. 

I encourage you to open the link in footnote five to see the entire process. Overall, I found that it took a lot of work to get the final output seen below. In fact, I spent about the same amount of time editing and rewriting parts of the output as I would have if I had written the entire thing without Gemini. Aside from citations, footnotes, and light editing, everything below this point is from Gemini. 

Wood's Empire of Liberty: The Early American Republic

Wood, Gordon S. Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic, 1789-1815. Oxford History of the United States, edited by David M. Kennedy. Oxford University Press, 2009.

Gordon S. Wood’s Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic, 1789-1815 is a comprehensive overview of the early American republic, covering the period from the Constitution's ratification until the War of 1812. As a top historian of the American Revolution, Wood explores the young nation’s complex identity by examining political and societal changes while still grappling with the question of slavery.

Wood details the fierce, personal debates over the new nation’s direction. After the American Revolution, the former colonies had self-determination but initially experimented with the Articles of Confederation, which united the thirteen states in a loose "league of friendship."[2] Unfortunately, this league was unable to tax or regulate commerce and lacked international recognition.[3] The Constitution, ratified in 1788, was a compromise designed to address these weaknesses by centralizing powers in a federal government while keeping state power intact through representation.[4] This shift sparked deep ideological clashes over the federal government’s scope, becoming the impetus of modern American political parties.

Wood makes this history compelling by presenting the founders as complex men of their own time, navigating nation-building with a volatile mix of idealism and practicality. He highlights their conflicting visions: Alexander Hamilton favored a strong central government and commerce, while Thomas Jefferson championed the agrarian ideal. These clashes established the fundamental Federalist and Anti-Federalist divisions that defined early national policy.

While democracy advanced for white men, the era’s history is scarred by huge contradictions to the Founders' ideals, notably slavery and the displacement of Native Americans. Wood addresses these topics from a top-down view, framing them as political debates among the Founders. He devotes a chapter to the contradiction between freedom and reliance on slave labor but avoids pronouncing judgment on the Founders by evaluating their actions within the context of their own time. Despite this, Wood’s Empire of Liberty is essential reading for those interested in America’s foundational years.[5]

Recent Murder Reads:

This blog post is brought to you by regular Book Blog contributor, Professor Matt Giddings!

Boy, I like fantasy novels. I also kind of like horror – I’m more of a fan of Stephen King as a specific writer than a fan of horror generally. 

But, I really like vampires. I read Dracula as a kid, and I saw Francis Ford Coppola’s film when it came out, and that was it. I was a vampire enthusiast. However, (I’m going to try and put this as diplomatically as I can) recent depictions of vampires in fiction have, let’s say, disappointed me. I never liked Anne Rice’s vampires, and the idea of vampires lurking in plain sight in a high school was not my cup of tea. I rather liked Brian Lumley’s vampires, and I wondered if I’d ever see some that interested me as much. 

Then, one fateful day, I picked up a copy of Jay Kristoff’s “Empire of the Vampire.” Right off the bat, the title had me – I do love me a good Empire (or a bad one too, at the rate). I was blown away. Kristoff’s vampires are as evil and monstrous as Lumley’s but as suave and debonair as Rice’s – a refreshing middle ground. 

But there’s something else- two things in fact. The first is the scale, scope, and genre of this book. Kristoff not only wrote a doorstop, it’s the first in a trilogy (as I write this, the 3^rd book is speeding towards my home, borne in the back of an Amazon truck. No creepy carriage, but still, one makes do.) Additionally, the book in many respects looks like a fairly typical fantasy novel – there’s the obligatory map at the front, and a healthy amount of world-building in the book. One reviewer, highlighting these aspects, noted the fusion of epic fantasy with a more horror novel-ish series of tropes and called the series ‘epic horror.’ I think this description fits perfectly. 

This brings us to the tone. The best way I can put it is this – imagine if the most edgy goth teenager in your high school had an interview with a good writer. You know the kind of person I mean – black eyeliner, all black clothes, highly specific taste in music, writes self-pitying (and bad) poetry, the whole nine yards. So, here’s Jonn Q. Goth in a room with a good writer and the writer says, “got an idea for a trilogy?” and the goth pulls out a pile of laboriously decorated, heavily used lab notebooks full of writing and says, “you bet I do!” 

The characters in this novel are broadly drawn – tough, gruff, muscled good guys with dark pasts and violent inclinations, naïve ingenues who hope for the best, world-weary and cynical soldiers, and hardened and suffering peasants. Oh, and vampires. The awesomest vampires. Creepy, old, vain, malevolent monsters that look at us like we’re food - because we are. Somehow, this slapdash assemblage of B movie and highschool dungeons and dragons tropes works. It works amazingly. Largely because, I think, of Kristoff’s writing, which treats all of this as dead serious and deserving of careful attention. 

So, what’s all this actually about, you ask? Well, that’s the thing. I pulled this book off of the shelf because of the name, and I bought it because of the liner notes. And boy did it deliver. The setting is effectively Renaissance Europe, in terms of technology and general feel, and everything is pretty hunky dory. Until, one day, the sun goes out. Not all the way out, but it dims. And the dimming, which no one can explain, removes the ability of the sun to kill vampires. And so, the remote and minor threat that has long plagued humanity bursts forth in a blood soaked orgy of pillage and murder to stalk the land – the vampires are tired of living the dark and they want their own Empire. Do people fight back? Of course! Do they win? Well, it’s called Empire of the Vampire because by the start of the books, there already is one. Can the humans stop it before they all die, are turned, or fed to the slaughter farms? Well, you’ll have to read it to find out –  and it will not disappoint! 

As always, I’m over at the St. Augustine campus, so if you like scifi, horror, fantasy, table top games or any related nerd stuff, look me up! Swing by my office! I’d love to chat! 

For years, I used to start each January by creating a yearly goals document,  a roadmap of sorts that guided my learning, projects, and personal growth for the year. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it gave me focus and a sense of accomplishment. Over the past few years, though, I’ve fallen out of the habit. Life got busy, my motivation waned, and that yearly reflection turned into a mental list I never wrote down.

Recently, my friend Vic brought the “personal curriculum” TikTok trend to my attention, and it completely reignited my interest in intentional learning. The idea is simple but inspiring: treat your own growth like a subject you get to design. Instead of traditional resolutions, people are creating learning plans that reflect what they want to explore- everything from hobbies to self-improvement to deep dives into random interests. Some even go as far as creating full syllabi, assignments, and reading lists for themselves!

I love that the focus is on curiosity, not pressure. The process is entirely up to the individual. For me, I’ve decided to approach it monthly, keeping things flexible and fun. Each month, I’ll design a “unit” in my journal: a theme, a few goals, maybe a book or two to tie in, and see where it takes me. It’s less about productivity and more about purpose: learning for the sake of growing, stretching, and rekindling that sense of exploration.

Taking Reading to the Next Level

As an avid reader, this project feels like a natural extension of something I already love. Reading has always been my favorite way to learn about the world, to explore new ideas, and to step into perspectives far from my own. The personal curriculum just gives that love of reading a bit more structure and a playful sense of direction. Instead of passively picking up whatever catches my eye next, I’m curating small, intentional reading “units” that connect with what I want to understand or experience each month. It’s like creating my own lifelong syllabus, one book (or topic) at a time.

November’s Plans: Cooking, Connecting, and Courage

For November, I’ve chosen a few personal “assignments” that blend challenge with joy. First on the list: a recipe I’ve been eyeing for months. It’s a little complex…honestly, a bit daunting, but that’s part of the fun. I want to push myself to try something new in the kitchen, even if it takes a few attempts (and a few extra dishes). Cooking, for me, is part creativity, part courage, and it fits perfectly into this idea of personal learning.

Another focus for the month is friendship. I want to be more intentional about nurturing my connections, so my plan is to initiate and plan an outing or adventure with a friend, something meaningful that gets us out of the usual routines. I tend to wait for others to make the plans, so this will be a gentle nudge to take the lead and create opportunities for connection.

I’ve been so excited about this project that I’ve started encouraging friends and family to join in. My husband has even agreed to participate in some of my planned activities. There’s something energizing about learning together, even informally- it feels like we’re turning everyday life into a little shared classroom. It’s a fun way to create new memories together. 

You may get to read more about my personal professional development in future posts. I’d love to know what topics you’d like to explore!