For the Love of Reading: "Home Before Dark" Review

Hello! I’m baaaack. I know, I know, it’s been too long. I’m apparently not very good at this whole blogging thing, but in my defense, I started a new job and a global pandemic brought everything to a standstill immediately after deciding to launch this new endeavor and we’re in the middle of a civil rights movement, so, you know, I’ve been thinking about other things.

However, I am really trying to make this review thing a regular occurrence. So, next up: Riley Sager’s latest, Home Before Dark, a creepy, twisted thriller that Sager’s fans will love.

The story focuses on Maggie Holt, an interior designer who briefly lived in the (fictional) notorious Baneberry Hall as a child – at least until she and her parents fled in the dark one night, never to return. Her dad then wrote a tell-all about their experience, saying that the reason they left was that Baneberry Hall was haunted.

Maggie doesn’t believe her father’s tales, but she’s lived in their shadow her entire life and watched them ruin her parents’ marriage and destroy her own relationship with her father. In spite of the effect they’ve had on her life, or maybe because of it, she becomes an interior designer, making a career out of helping people turn their houses into homes.

After her father dies, Maggie learns her father never sold Baneberry Hall – and it’s now hers. So, for the first time in 25 years she returns, with the intent of gutting the place, selling it, and never looking back. But from the day she arrived, nothing goes as planned. First, old strangers come out of the woodwork – mostly to express their displeasure with her father’s book and the lingering toll it’s left on their Vermont town.

Soon after, things start getting weird – like, really weird, like things-go-bump-in-the-night weird. Things start going missing. Then Maggie starts hearing music playing randomly (always the same song). Quickly, Maggie begins to consider that maybe her father was right – maybe Baneberry Hall really is haunted. And if it is, does that mean everything Maggie’s ever believed is a lie?

I tend to love Sager’s books for three reasons: One, he’s just a great writer – he always includes at least one or two twists that fit together perfectly at the end but are masterfully clever and half of the fun of reading his books is trying to puzzle out where you think the twists will pop up and what they’ll mean, how they’ll impact the plot, and where the characters will ultimately end up. Two, whatever the twist, his books are sufficiently creepy satisfy your horror story-itch. Home Before Dark is definitely geared toward all the Haunting of Hill House fans out there (though it’s much more similar to the recent Netflix adaptation than the original Shirley Jackson story, so if you were disappointed by the Netflix show, you may not love the book). Lastly, there’s always more there there: Home Before Dark isn’t just a good book to dive into when you’re in the mood to scare yourself, it’s also a story about family (and what you owe each other), what makes a house a home, and whether the places you grow up every really leave you. (Thomas Wolfe might have believed you can’t go home again, but he probably never had to grapple with living in a notorious haunted house.) And if they don’t, if you swing open the door to confront all your long-ago ghosts (real or imagined), if it’s like looking in a mirror, do you like what you see?

For the Love of Reading: "The Sun-Down Motel" Book Review

This blog is a book review appreciation account now. Hey, I don’t make the rules! Okay, I do – and I’d like to start publishing book reviews. My personal goal/resolution for 2020 is to spend less time online (doing a great job so far!) and more time reading for fun. I’ve always loved to read (I was definitely that kid who packed at least four or five books into my backpack to take with me on 30-minute runs to the grocery store with my mom, because what if I needed to read them all at that exact moment??) and I’m trying to stretch my creative muscles and really challenge myself to improve my own writing. I can’t think of a better way to do than to simply read more. Plus, I love book reviews, and I’ve long wanted to try my hand at writing them myself, but unfortunately, books coverage is a dying beat in the journalism world.

While I’m not sure if I’m going to go with a specific theme for book reviews (only women, or only the classics, only literary fiction, etc.), I’d like to expand my book-reading horizons – lately I’ve been reading a lot of thrillers and romance novels, which I love – and I’m going to try and hit a goal of reading 100 books in 2020. Not sure if that’s too ambitious, but we’ll see!

I’m going to start with the first book I read in 2020, which was The Sun-Down Motel, by Simone St. James. [MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!]

I’ve never read any of her other books, but after reading this one, I can officially say I’m hooked – and you will be too, if you’re not already.

The Sun-Down Motel starts by striking a kind of quiet fear into its reader’s heart: “The night it all ended, Vivian was alone.” From that first sentence, the book sets off on down a tense, tautly woven trail that’s part traditional ghost story, part of crime thriller, part feminist manifesto, and 100 percent heart-poundingly suspenseful to the last page.

The story jumps between time periods and perspectives: that of Vivian, who’s 20 years old in 1982, and her niece, Carly, in 2017. Vivian and her niece have more in common than they know: They’re both feeling a little adrift – Viv by her parents’ divorce and Carly by her mother’s death – and they’re both running away from home and toward something – though what, neither of them know.

In 1982, Vivian lands at the Sun-Down Motel in the (fictional) small town of Fell accidentally after a hitchhiking scare and finds that they’re hiring a night clerk. Despite the fact that something is clearly off with the hotel, she’s drawn to the place and takes the job. It doesn’t take her long to realize that the hotel is haunted by (among others) the ghost of Betty, a young woman who was murdered and dumped at the hotel. Vivian quickly realizes that Betty isn’t the only woman to go missing in Fell and finds herself asking: Why does Fell have so many dead girls? And why doesn’t anyone seem to care? Determined to bring Betty’s killer to justice, Viv circles closer to the answer. Then one night, she disappears without a trace.

35 years later, 20-year-old Carly wakes up one day after the recent death of her mother, drops out of college, and starts driving east to figure out what happened to her aunt Viv. She finds herself at the Sun-Down where not much has changed – in fact, the hotel’s owner is, conveniently enough, looking for a night clerk. Of course, Carly takes the job, and, along with her new friend and roommate Heather, gets to work re-tracing Viv’s last steps in an attempt to discover the truth about her aunt. She soon realizes the same thing Viv did: Girls go missing in Fell. The question is, why? And what really happened to them?

Okay, I’ll try to stop with the spoilers there.

Jumping between timelines doesn’t always work as a literary device – it can be confusing, heavy-handed, or lazy – but in this case, the fact that we see Carly re-living her aunt’s last days and stepping into her shoes at her old job creates an “atmosphere of spooky isolation that feels vaguely gothic,” as blog Smart Bitches, Trashy Books phrased it. It also provides a nagging sense of deja vu that’s in some ways scarier than the ghosts who hang around the hotel. Women go missing, are assaulted, are murdered, are abused, are mistreated all the time, not just in fictional Fell, and the struggle to make people care, especially when you’re not the “right kind” of victim, can feel insurmountable, as Vivian notes. “If you’re bad, if you’re shitty, this could happen to you.”

That deja vu filled me with a sense of dread – I kept bracing for what I thought was coming – but it also tinged the book with a heartbreaking, melancholy air. It was hard to see Carly heading down the same road as her aunt, especially when St. James makes clear how little the police cared about Viv’s disappearance the first time around. It was easy to feel like things weren’t going to change.

St. James also blurs the line between the supernatural and the real world in a way that reminds the reader that the scariest ghosts aren’t always the ones from your childhood horror stories – they’re the flesh-and-blood monsters you deal with every day, the ones smiling blandly at you in the store, at the post office, when you check into your hotel. Maybe you even live right next door to them. Yes, some of the literal ghosts hanging around the Sun-Down have their own unfinished business, but, like any other regulars at a hotel, Carly and Viv are able to get to know them – their personalities and quirks, their likes and dislikes. It’s the people of Fell who are cagey about the past, who hold their secrets tight to their chest and refuse to let go, first with Viv, and then with Carly.

That’s what makes the ending so satisfying, though. The book is in part a revenge fantasy – the ending isn’t necessarily realistic, but it’s cathartic as hell to read, and it’s heartwarming to see the female characters band together to solve the mysteries of Fell. Ultimately, The Sun-Down Motel is a deftly written, poignant, story that will stay with you for long after you’ve finished reading it.

Hot Take: the Most Woke Movie of 2019 Was "Last Christmas"

Spoilers ahead! Also, I can’t take complete credit for this hOt TaKe, as it was really my fiancé who first made the observations detailed below after we had seen both movies.

If you had told me that the two holiday wide releases trying to tackle immigration and racism in 2019 would be Knives Out and Last Christmas, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. If you had told me that Last Christmas, so sugary sweet it should come with a warning, would actually be the more successful of the two, I definitely wouldn’t have believed you. And yet here we are! 

“No,” you’re probably saying. “That can’t be right!” OH, BUT IT IS. Let me explain why. 

To start, you’ll need a little context behind both films, so: major spoilers ahead! Don’t read any further if you haven’t seen either movie yet (though at this point, you’ve had plenty of time, so what are you waiting for??). 

Okay, here we go! Let’s start with Knives Out

Knives Out centers around a wealthy family, the Thrombeys. Best-selling mystery author Harlan Thrombey (Christorpher Plummer) has just committed suicide by slitting his own throat. Or has he? The police aren’t entirely sure; nor is Detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) who’s been hired by an anonymous client to look into the unusual circumstances of Harlan’s death. But, don’t worry, we see how he dies within the first act:

Harlan’s nurse  Marta (Ana de Armas) apparently picks up the wrong bottle of medication and injects Harlan with a lethal dose of morphine instead of his prescribed medication. Thinking that he only has 10 minutes to live, she begs Harlan to let her call an ambulance, but in dramatic fashion, he refuses (or shuts her down, if you want to be less charitable). Instead of allowing Marta to handle the situation (remember, she is the actual trained nurse here), Harlan uses his non-medical, but otherwise lucrative, mystery writing skills to devise an elaborate plot to throw any would-be investigators off Marta’s scent and slices his own throat. Yep, a character literally slits his own throat in an act of benevolent paternalism toward his beloved immigrant friend/nurse.

It’s pretty much all up/down hill from there as we better get to know the Thrombeys and Detective Benoit Blanc. We don’t actually get to know Marta or her family though beyond the following key traits:(a) Marta’s mom is undocumented; (b) Marta also lives with her sister; (c) Marta is so pure, so inherently good that lying literally causes her to vomit; and (d) Marta has a kind heart (thanks, Detective Blanc!). Yeah, the film is done with Marta now. What’s that, you say? What about character development? Hahha, oh no. She might be in every scene but that’s all you’re getting!

As for the rest of this star-studded cast of characters? Harlan’s family fills out Knives Out with a character list that spans the “both sides” spectrum from nazi alt-right teens to the clearly Goop-inspired liberal wellness influencer. But each character at leasts gets to show some personality before being reduced to simply “awful human being.” That is, of course, the point, as Rian Johnson has a pointed statement to make about the ugliness of the current political climate and the hypocrisy of even the well-intentioned. Unfortunately, in typical whodonut fashion, it’s Johnson holding the un-woke (non-woke?) weapon after all is said and done.

The New York Timesopinion writer Monica Castillo sums it up nicely when she notes in a recent piece that, “Marta is someone the Thrombeys can show off to make them seem more progressive than they actually are.” As she notes, Johnson includes a running joke where the awful human beings keep saying Marta is from a different South American country (HA HA they’re racist!), but Johnson never actually reveals where she is from. Yeah, it doesn’t actually matter, but it starts to when there are more jokes about anything resembling a character origin than actual character development in the film. And it’s not just the awful human beings. The entire film is premised on the beatification of Marta from beginning (see: Harlan’s demise) to the end where we discover that our hero detective effectively works with/for Marta the whole time because of his immediate assumption based on her “kind heart.”

Heart?!? Does Marta give someone her heart? Perhaps a Christmas ago or so?

SEGUE!

Paul Feig’s Last Christmas (co-written by and starring Emma Thompson), the film based on the Wham! holiday classic starring that delightful man from Crazy Rich Asians (Henry Golding) and Lady of Dragonstone (Emilia Clarke) is a touching tale about the immigrant experience? Yeah, they don’t exactly highlight that in the trailer.

Last Christmas opens with Kate (Clarke), a young woman seemingly in the throes of some sort of personal crisis as she spends the first act trying her best burn any and all bridges in her professional and personal lives. Kate runs into Tom (Golding), a manic pixie dream boy of a man seemingly sent from the heavens to help Kate put out those bridge fires. Yet, Tom doesn’t actually do anything. Kate simply opens up to him in a way that leads to a lot of on-screen self-reflection from Kate. She’s doing the work to be a better person and that means unpacking a lot of emotional baggage for the benefit of the audience. 

And the largest bag to unpack? The relationship with her family: her mom, Petra (Thompson), father, Ivan (Boris Isakovic), and sister, Marta (Lydia Leonard). You see, Kate’s full name is Katarina and she and her family immigrated to London from Yugoslavia during the ‘90s. Assimilation, and its limits, crops up as an issue among the family that addressed throughout the film with the dueling cultural identities playing an allegorical role in the film’s big twist.

It’s worth noting that Emma Thompson has received some criticism for playing a Yugoslavian character when she herself is not Yugoslavian, and there are merits to that argument, but I don’t think it’s an inherently wrong or offensive casting choice. In my opinion, there’s also nothing offensive about the way Petra is portrayed. She’s not played for laughs; she’s not a caricature. Like many parents and their twentysomething adult children, she buts heads with Kate often (though not without reason: Kate’s drinking habits are actually kind of alarming, considering the very specific health issues that are later revealed); she wants her kids to be happy and sometimes thinks she knows better than they what that looks like; she’s worried about the impact Brexit will have on their lives and also how it might change how people around them see her and her family; she wants her kids to assimilate and also worries that she’ve assimilated too much. She knows it’s important to hang on to the past and also maybe is holding on a little too strongly (In one scene, as she rises from the table to sing yet another song from the Old Country, her husband says, “Petra, the war ended 30 years ago! Why are you still killing us with these songs?”). Like everyone, she’s got her own prejudices: At one point, as she and Kate are watching a news report about the rise of far-right nationalism in the U.K., Petra says she “blames the Poles.”

But an on-the-nose “Go back to your own country!” scene on a bus notwithstanding, Last Christmas makes its point about immigration subtly and specifically – all times framing its point within the larger context of Kate’s character progression throughout the film. The film, nor the characters in it, does not speak for Kate or her family. It’s not sainthood or nothing for them – everyone, including Kate, her mom, her sister, and her father, are treated like fully-formed characters within the story.

“So what? Knives Out was just an expertly crafted whodunnit, why can’t we just enjoy it for what it is?” you ask. Well, sure, I’d love to, but then again Johnson should have just let it be just that because it is expertly crafted and the cast is fantastic in all of their scene-chewing glory. Instead, it tried to make a BIG SEROUS STATEMENT and failed miserably, so miserably that it now exists in whole as an example of the very sort of faux-woke liberalism it mocks. Whereas, Last Christmas – yes, LAST CHRISTMAS, a movie based entirely on the Wham! song – rises above its confectionary conception to succeed in making a more affecting and effective statement about immigration. Hopefully, you get around to it.

Am I the only person in the world who loves airports?

My fiancé and I were talking the other night at dinner about upcoming holiday travel. I mentioned that I loved airports (not flying – that part sucks. It’s the worst! Nobody wants to be stuck high up in the sky in a literal tin can for hours with no way to escape). But airports are nice because if I’m at the airport, chances are, I’m either on my way to somewhere fun, or I’m on my way home. “You’re a psycho,” my fiancé said cheerfully and kept eating.

“But I’m right,” I said, unperturbed. This is the hill I’ll die on! Airports are GREAT! Most of them are large and airy – the Kansas City International Airport comes to mind as an exception because that shit is TINY (but on the other hand, it’s also foolproof! You literally can’t get lost in that one. Boom, silver lining) – and the food options get better and better every day (will it surprise you to know that I disagree with this Food & Wine assessment that the Cobb salad is your best food bet at an airport?).

The airport is also one of the very few places it’s socially acceptable to do basically anything at any time of day like order a glass of wine at 9 a.m. or eat an entire hamburger for breakfast. Seriously, no one will even blink. A while back I saw a tweet from a comedian that said, “The airport is a lawless place. 7 a.m.? Drink a beer. Tired? Sleep on the floor. Hungry? Chips now cost $17.” And it’s TRUE. When you’re wandering around the airport at 6:30 a.m. or midnight, time has been suspended. It doesn’t exist! The real world is somewhere behind you, outside where the sun sets at 4 p.m. now and blankets everything in a layer of gray. Nothing matters and everything has been turned upside down. You’re between places, and it’s magical. You can do and be anything you goddamn want (within reason, obviously! I mean, don’t do anything completely weird or, you know, illegal).

For the most part, if you’re waiting at an airport, you’re on your way to somewhere else you want to be (vacation, wedding, holidays, honeymoon, girls’ trips, etc). Obviously there are some exceptions. But I think what I most love about airports is they feel like an opportunity to do or be something different for just a moment. Maybe it’s that they give you permission to indulge in whatever it is you’ve always wanted to talk about but never have – what you would do if you won the lottery, how you’d quit your job if you could, where you’d go if money were no object, what you’d say to that person you’ve always loved (or hated!) if you could only find the words. Sitting at the airport with a glass of wine is the perfect time to dream about that bookstore or bakery you always wanted to open or think about how maybe one day, you’ll just hop on a flight to Paris and never come back. And it’s a completely safe, low-stakes way to do so, to ask yourself: Who would I be if I weren’t me?

This blog is changing a little

I know you’re all waiting with bated breath! Yes, I’m making some changes to this blog. Why? Mostly because I’m scaling back on freelance work for now and want to focus on a few other things. Namely, anything other than freelancing/journalism right now (more on that below).

This change was really born out of the realization last week that I was whiling away too much time on the Internet doing…nothing. I mean, yes, I was using the Internet for research or reporting while I worked on actual freelance assignments, but the fact is, I was spending WAY too much time zonked out on Twitter. I’d look up from my screen after hours spent scrolling through my phone in a dead-eyed stupor only to find the world darkening around me (now literally at 4 p.m. because winter is the worst!!!) and my dog staring at me, her eyes knitted with concern (she has very expressive eyebrows, okay).

Part of the reason for my sudden uptick in screen time was that I was laid off seven months ago. This was the second time in three years, the first being in 2016 when the women’s lifestyle site I worked for shuttered suddenly. That time, almost the entire staff was let go. This time, I was laid off in a company restructuring, but I was the only person on the editorial team let go. This time, it felt a little more personal. This time, it’s been harder to get out of bed in the morning, if I’m being honest. (I understand that while this may be a sad story, to me, at least, it’s not an unusual one right now – the journalism industry is hemorrhaging jobs every day; I’m far from the only person who’s lost her job).

Part of that is because after eight years of throwing Internet shit at the wall and seeing what goes viral, I’m burned out as hell. Every nerve in my body feels wired, but not in a good way – like I’m crackling with a kind of pent-up energy but when I try to distribute it successfully, I end up burned…and exhausted. For the past few months, I haven’t been sleeping or eating very well, nor have I been a very good freelance writer. I’ve taken assignments enthusiastically only to lose interest halfway through and struggle to drag them over the finish line in time to meet my deadline. I’ve struggled to pitch original ideas and fresh perspectives on old subjects. I’ve barely made any money at all. Then one day, I just woke up with one thought skipping through my head on repeat: No more. .

Okay, okay…what does all of this have to do with this post I’m writing? Why am I actually starting a blog in the year of our lord 2019, arguably five years after the death of blogging?? (Am I a masochist or am I just dumb? Stay tuned!). I guess the answer is this: Writing, one of the only things I’ve ever loved, one of the only things i’ve ever thought I was any good at, hasn’t been fun lately. Like, at all. And I hate that! I used to love sitting down to write something new. I used to love talking to people, asking them questions, hearing their stories. I used to love pitching new ideas. I used to LIVE for trolling the Internet for hot takes on viral memes (what do they all mean??). But somewhere between the first layoff and the second, it all just stopped being fulfilling or meaningful in any way.

I guess this blog is an attempt to remind myself why I started writing in the first place. It’ll be a place for fun stuff I’m enjoying right now – books, recipes, life hacks, looking at beautiful wedding invitations designed on handmade paper (seriously, look at this gorgeous stationery) – anything that’s sparking a little joy in my life right now the way freelancing just…wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t know where this blog will end up – but I’m excited to find out what I may discover along the way.

How to plan a wedding and not lose your mind

This should be possible, right? It shouldn’t be THAT hard to plan a wedding? People do this every day! L-O-L. That’s what I thought before I started actually trying to plan (and budget) for one. I quickly realized that a) people have all kinds of fEeLiNgS about weddings, and b) no matter how low-key, laid-back, or chill you think you’ll be when you start the process, midway through you’ll feel like a towel that’s been wrung out one too many times.

My advice: Pick the things – could be venue, guest list, overall aesthetic or theme, whatever – that are really important to you and your partner and stick to them. People can’t wait to give you all kinds of well-intentioned advice, but weddings are so intensely personal that it’s almost impossible to get through the whole timeline without inadvertently offending someone (or being the offended party). But knowing exactly what’s most important to you will also help you when you inevitably fall down the Pinterest rabbit hole and find yourself thinking – despite the fact that you live in NYC and are getting married in a wine bar – “An adorable beer burro with a flower crown is exactly what my wedding needs right now?? Why didn’t I think of this sooner??” Weddings! They make you crazy, I tell you.

The good news is that all this planning is GREAT fodder for story ideas. Check out the first few pieces I’ve done for Zola here: 11 Surprising Wedding Costs to Budget for at the Beginning (cake-cutting fees, I hate you!) Should We Send an Invite to Someone We Know Can’t Come? (My answer: yes!) and Should My Plus One Sign the Card? (also yes!). And keep an eye out for more wedding-related ideas/complaints – I’ve got a million of ‘em!

How one mom is hoping to change the postpartum care industry – by creating one

I LOVED speaking with Chelsea Hirschhon, CEO of Frida Baby (even if you’re not a parent, you’ve probably heard someone in your life talk about their epic Snotsucker) for my latest piece. Her newest project is Frida Mom, a postpartum care line designed to help new and experienced moms alike get through the Fourth Trimester – those first three months after baby’s born.

How is she hoping to help? Well, mostly by creating a postpartum care industry in the first place. The reality is that here in the U.S., most of our focus during and immediately following pregnancy is on the baby – meaning mom gets discharged from the hospital after 48 hours with no help, no resources, and no idea what’s normal or not.

Frida Mom hopes to change that by changing the culture of silence around the Fourth Trimester. As Hirschhorn says in the piece, ““It gave me a lot of pleasure to step into that role as a brand where we can say, ‘You’re not alone, we know that what you’re going through is scary and daunting and traumatic and transformative; a lot of what you’re experiencing is totally normal and a lot of women go through it and here’s why.’”

Would you ever give up caffeine?

Personally, I don’t think I could do it (I know, I know). But for those who are thinking about it – and I tip my hat to you guys, because you are definitely a much stronger (and probably healthier) person than I am – I rounded up a few tips over at Well + Good to help you get started. (Do as I say, not as I do, etc., etc.) Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my morning cup of java…

Talking about mental health

My latest for Well + Good is up: Mental Health Professionals Are Fighting Stigma By Opening Up About Their Own Struggles.

I spoke to five experts for this piece and was pleasantly surprised to find that none of them experienced any kind of negative consequences of being honest about their struggles with their clients, patients, friends, or family. I do think the stigma around mental health is changing, and it might even be changing faster than I thought – at least for women.

In the past few weeks, there’s been a succession of stories published about men and mental health. That’s not a criticism – I think that though women are more likely to suffer from mood disorders such as anxiety and depression, men are, according to this recently published Rolling Stone piece, more likely to commit suicide. They’re also less likely to talk about it or ask for help.

But people are working to change that. Here are a few pieces I’ve read recently specifically geared toward men trying to help other men:

How bad is American sunscreen, really?

Hello! Taps mic

Is this thing on? (Yes, yes, I can see your eyes rolling now.)

I’ve had this site for years and haven’t actually written a single blog post, but the idea of toying with a blog has rolled around in my head for a long time. I also recently found myself with some unexpected free time on my hands. And everything old is basically new again, so well, here I find myself.

So! What is this blog, exactly? Actually, I’m not sure. Right now, it’ll be a place where some of my most recent freelance pieces can live, as well as related stories, things I’m reading, or stuff I just find generally interesting. That’s all subject to change, etc., but for now, I think that’s a pretty safe description of what it’ll look like.

With that in mind, first up: My first piece for Medium’s new health- and science-focused site, Elemental on sunscreen. There’s been a lot of debate recently in the healthy living community about whether American sunscreens are really doing a solid job of protecting Americans or if their European or Asian counterparts are better. My piece specifically touches on Mexoryl as an example of an ingredient that’s been used safely for years in Europe and Canada but is pretty hard to find in the U.S.

Why is it so hard to find? It’s a combination of a) stringent FDA requirements and b) one specific company in the U.S. having the patent on Mexoryl (also known as Ecamsule). The filter is popular overseas for its smooth, silky appearance (no thick white residue left behind), and many experts do think it could be safely used in the U.S. as well.

You can read more here.

I should note that the sunscreen debate is a complicated one. While media coverage recently has hammered home the idea that American sunscreens might not be as effective or safe as European or Asian ones, every expert I spoke with noted that that doesn’t mean they’re inherently unsafe. Wearing sunscreen is still one of the best ways you can protect yourself against skin cancer, which can be deadly, and though there’s been concern about certain ingredients (such as oxybenzone) being harmful to either humans or the environment, the reality is American sunscreens have been used for decades with few adverse effects. So all this is to say: Wear sunscreen! Do your research, of course, and make the product choices you think are right for you, but wear sunscreen especially on sunny days (and even on days that aren’t).

If you’re interested in the sunscreen debate more generally, here are a few excellent pieces you might enjoy: