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brianreadsbooks's Reviews (820)
I gave this one high marks for pure enjoyability. While the premise for the book is related to an old storyline from a cartoon that rhymes with Rooby-Roo, this one is quite original. It's a fun adventure story, with interesting characters who aren't the completely one-dimensional tropes that adventures-type books (and movies) tend to use. In fact, it's ready made to be turned into a movie, and at the same time the movie won't be nearly as good given the level of subtle details, twists and turns Cantero weaves into the story.
The "cast" is a group of friends who, when they were kids in 1977, solved a series of mysteries in a small, fictional lake town in Oregon. 13 years later, they reunite, though all have changed. Andy, a queer hispanic woman, and a trained muscle, takes the lead in gathering the group together. Kerri, with her pale skin and flame red hair (a character in it's own right in this story) is now a scientist. Her cousin Nate, the historian and amateur arcanist, is found in a mental health institution. Peter, sadly, is a ghost these days. And Tim, the dog, is the great grandson of their original companion Sean.
The group heads back to Blyton Hills to figure out what went wrong with their last and most famous solved case. Why do they still have unsettling nightmares? Did they really see what they think they saw back then? Is this the apocalypse? WTF HAPPENED?? Grab this one if you want to have fun, are willing to suspend a little disbelief and go along for the ride, and enjoy a read that isn't *too* deep, but still very gratifying.
The "cast" is a group of friends who, when they were kids in 1977, solved a series of mysteries in a small, fictional lake town in Oregon. 13 years later, they reunite, though all have changed. Andy, a queer hispanic woman, and a trained muscle, takes the lead in gathering the group together. Kerri, with her pale skin and flame red hair (a character in it's own right in this story) is now a scientist. Her cousin Nate, the historian and amateur arcanist, is found in a mental health institution. Peter, sadly, is a ghost these days. And Tim, the dog, is the great grandson of their original companion Sean.
The group heads back to Blyton Hills to figure out what went wrong with their last and most famous solved case. Why do they still have unsettling nightmares? Did they really see what they think they saw back then? Is this the apocalypse? WTF HAPPENED?? Grab this one if you want to have fun, are willing to suspend a little disbelief and go along for the ride, and enjoy a read that isn't *too* deep, but still very gratifying.
I don’t usually love Hollywood memoirs, but I still buy one every once in awhile when I respect and enjoy the writer. Lewis is not only a powerhouse performer (actor, singer, dancer, personality!), but I admire her commitment to raising awareness of police brutality and her honesty in sharing her experience living with bipolar disorder.
As someone who also lives with bipolar, it’s powerful to have a visible person speak candidly about it. I shared some of Lewis’ experience - it took YEARS to be properly diagnosed and get the right medication that allows me to be happy, healthy and calm. But once I did it was life-changing.
Pick this one up if you want to read fun stories about a fabulous woman who’s loved her life at a full sprint. You can also learn about what it’s like to experience bipolar, and her realities making it as a black woman in show business. It still wasn’t my favorite due to the genre but I’m glad I read this light-hearted and honest quick read as part of my #blackhistorymonth stack.
As someone who also lives with bipolar, it’s powerful to have a visible person speak candidly about it. I shared some of Lewis’ experience - it took YEARS to be properly diagnosed and get the right medication that allows me to be happy, healthy and calm. But once I did it was life-changing.
Pick this one up if you want to read fun stories about a fabulous woman who’s loved her life at a full sprint. You can also learn about what it’s like to experience bipolar, and her realities making it as a black woman in show business. It still wasn’t my favorite due to the genre but I’m glad I read this light-hearted and honest quick read as part of my #blackhistorymonth stack.
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This Harlem Renaissance novella is a classic I first heard about in a book for the online African American History course I took through Yale Open (it's free! google it). This period of US History is fascinating to me, and I found Passing as an audiobook, read by the phenomenal narrator Robin Miles.
At its core, Passing is a suspense story, set against the real, racist backdrop of 1920s New York and Chicago. Larsen's protagonist, Irene Redfield, encounters a childhood friend, Clare Kendry, whose pale skin has allowed her to "pass" as a white woman, going so far as to marry and have a child with a white man who still does not know she's a Black woman. Irene herself has enjoyed the privilege of lighter skin to enter segregated establishments and "pass," but she married a Black man and does not hide her overall person. As the two reacquaint, Irene finds herself more and more uncomfortable with Clare. There is a real sense of discomfort, even fear, of this woman who's Black identity is hidden, putting her in constant danger of being found out by her white husband and society. What would happen to her and her daughter if she were found out? Irene fears being too closely involved, and yet over time, Clare finds ways to continuously wind herself into the life of Irene and her family.
What I found fascinating is this sketch of a period of time and a lived experience that completely takes me outside my modern white male world. It's a story by a Black woman and it centers Black women, recognizing the diversity and complexity within that identity. The supporting characters fill in the sketch of this world, adding to the myriad relationships within and between the Black and white communities. In a short novella, Larsen managed to paint a broad picture, with a never-quite-comfortable story that adds to the suspense and builds to a completely unexpected finish.
I recommend!
At its core, Passing is a suspense story, set against the real, racist backdrop of 1920s New York and Chicago. Larsen's protagonist, Irene Redfield, encounters a childhood friend, Clare Kendry, whose pale skin has allowed her to "pass" as a white woman, going so far as to marry and have a child with a white man who still does not know she's a Black woman. Irene herself has enjoyed the privilege of lighter skin to enter segregated establishments and "pass," but she married a Black man and does not hide her overall person. As the two reacquaint, Irene finds herself more and more uncomfortable with Clare. There is a real sense of discomfort, even fear, of this woman who's Black identity is hidden, putting her in constant danger of being found out by her white husband and society. What would happen to her and her daughter if she were found out? Irene fears being too closely involved, and yet over time, Clare finds ways to continuously wind herself into the life of Irene and her family.
What I found fascinating is this sketch of a period of time and a lived experience that completely takes me outside my modern white male world. It's a story by a Black woman and it centers Black women, recognizing the diversity and complexity within that identity. The supporting characters fill in the sketch of this world, adding to the myriad relationships within and between the Black and white communities. In a short novella, Larsen managed to paint a broad picture, with a never-quite-comfortable story that adds to the suspense and builds to a completely unexpected finish.
I recommend!
As I read this book I couldn't help my wild swing of emotions. Between pages, I would travel from being turned on by awesome gay flirtation and sex, disgusted and horrified by the violence and gore, annoyed by the protagonist, hopeful and despairing for the story line, angry at the author's treatment of the characters, and overwhelmingly enthralled by the story and desperate for more.
I can't describe how meaningful it was to have queer, Black and Brown characters centered from cover to cover in this book. James does an incredible job of reflecting how those intersecting identities play a key role in the lives, actions and reactions of a suite of fully developed characters. The story would not have been the same without acknowledging, normalizing and centering their identities as factual and relevant.
This is the first of a planned trilogy. When I heard him speak on the book, James said this will be the same story three times, each told from a different character's POV. He leaves it to us, the readers, to decide whose story holds the most truth. I'm so excited for these other tellings to fill in gaps and probably completely change my feelings toward the characters. James is masterful, and if anyone can pull it off, it'll be him.
Follow me on #bookstagram: @brianreadsbooks
I can't describe how meaningful it was to have queer, Black and Brown characters centered from cover to cover in this book. James does an incredible job of reflecting how those intersecting identities play a key role in the lives, actions and reactions of a suite of fully developed characters. The story would not have been the same without acknowledging, normalizing and centering their identities as factual and relevant.
This is the first of a planned trilogy. When I heard him speak on the book, James said this will be the same story three times, each told from a different character's POV. He leaves it to us, the readers, to decide whose story holds the most truth. I'm so excited for these other tellings to fill in gaps and probably completely change my feelings toward the characters. James is masterful, and if anyone can pull it off, it'll be him.
Follow me on #bookstagram: @brianreadsbooks
The complexities and contrast between the story’s narrator George Washington “Wash” Black and his white master/companion/friend Christopher “Titch” Wilde were the most compelling part for me. Wash is born a slave on a plantation in Barbados, and cared for by Big Kit, an older woman who dreams of her former life before being stolen and enslaved. When Titch arrives at the plantation, Wash gives up his one human connection with her for a life-changing and fantastical adventure with Titch (though in reality he is not given a choice).
“I thought of my existence before Titch's arrival, the brutal hours in the field under the crushing sun, the screams, the casual finality edging every slave's life, as though each day could very easily be the last. And that, it seemed to me clearly, was the more obvious anguish- that life had never belonged to any of us, even when we'd sought to reclaim it by ending it. We had been estranged from the potential of our own bodies, from the revelation of everything our minds and bodies could accomplish.”
Race and privilege drive every behavior. Edugyan illustrates this real-world truth masterfully. The relationship between Titch and Wash is the most prominent example, but it shows up throughout the novel. Each character’s race and class dominate their unique reaction to Wash.
“You were more concerned that slavery should be a moral stain upon white men than by the actual damage it wreaks on black men.”
I didn’t get as “sucked in” as I usually do for adventure and character-driven stories like this, but that likely had to do with reading it during a stressful move. I’d still say this is still a great read that should be part of your list. I understand why many loved it, and I plan to re-read in the future when I can give it my full attention.
Follow me on IG #bookstagram: @brianreadsbooks for more reviews and photos of my reading.
“I thought of my existence before Titch's arrival, the brutal hours in the field under the crushing sun, the screams, the casual finality edging every slave's life, as though each day could very easily be the last. And that, it seemed to me clearly, was the more obvious anguish- that life had never belonged to any of us, even when we'd sought to reclaim it by ending it. We had been estranged from the potential of our own bodies, from the revelation of everything our minds and bodies could accomplish.”
Race and privilege drive every behavior. Edugyan illustrates this real-world truth masterfully. The relationship between Titch and Wash is the most prominent example, but it shows up throughout the novel. Each character’s race and class dominate their unique reaction to Wash.
“You were more concerned that slavery should be a moral stain upon white men than by the actual damage it wreaks on black men.”
I didn’t get as “sucked in” as I usually do for adventure and character-driven stories like this, but that likely had to do with reading it during a stressful move. I’d still say this is still a great read that should be part of your list. I understand why many loved it, and I plan to re-read in the future when I can give it my full attention.
Follow me on IG #bookstagram: @brianreadsbooks for more reviews and photos of my reading.
I wanted to roll my eyes at this book. I wanted to hate its teenage narcissist protagonist (at moments I did). But I found myself feeling everything Aciman wanted me to. I wanted to be inside this world of endless summer, privilege, angst, heat and sexual tension.
It’s a testament to Aciman that he can bring the reader INTO the emotional and physical feelings of his protagonist, 17-year old Elio. Elio and his father’s 24-year-old academic research assistant Oliver navigate a maddening cat-and-mouse game set in the midst of the hot, sticky summer of the 1980s Italian Riviera.
This book is sex. Young boy/man lust and emotion. Now I’ve read it, I’m shocked it got made into a movie that was so mainstream. Parts took me to the edge of my boundaries but managed to do it in a way that conveyed the intimacy of the moment, rather than just being extreme. Ultimately, the story is about the profound depth of how much Elio feels the need to be with (or be) Oliver.
“Is it your body that I want when I think of lying next to it every night or do I want to slip into it and own it as if it were my own, as I did when I put on your bathing suit and took it off again, all the while craving, as I craved nothing more in my life that afternoon, to feel you slip inside me as if my entire body were your bathing suit, your home? You in me, me in you…”
Aciman’s treatment of his queer main characters is notable. He places them in a historical setting that would not have been friendly. That’s acknowledged, but in this magical summer “world apart” in Italy they get the freedom to be who they are with little repercussion. The ending brings the real world back into focus quickly, but without the serious tragedy that marks so many books about queer people.
Curiously, the author is straight. I’m not sure how he pulled this off, but I’m grateful.
Follow me on Instagram: @brianreadsbooks
It’s a testament to Aciman that he can bring the reader INTO the emotional and physical feelings of his protagonist, 17-year old Elio. Elio and his father’s 24-year-old academic research assistant Oliver navigate a maddening cat-and-mouse game set in the midst of the hot, sticky summer of the 1980s Italian Riviera.
This book is sex. Young boy/man lust and emotion. Now I’ve read it, I’m shocked it got made into a movie that was so mainstream. Parts took me to the edge of my boundaries but managed to do it in a way that conveyed the intimacy of the moment, rather than just being extreme. Ultimately, the story is about the profound depth of how much Elio feels the need to be with (or be) Oliver.
“Is it your body that I want when I think of lying next to it every night or do I want to slip into it and own it as if it were my own, as I did when I put on your bathing suit and took it off again, all the while craving, as I craved nothing more in my life that afternoon, to feel you slip inside me as if my entire body were your bathing suit, your home? You in me, me in you…”
Aciman’s treatment of his queer main characters is notable. He places them in a historical setting that would not have been friendly. That’s acknowledged, but in this magical summer “world apart” in Italy they get the freedom to be who they are with little repercussion. The ending brings the real world back into focus quickly, but without the serious tragedy that marks so many books about queer people.
Curiously, the author is straight. I’m not sure how he pulled this off, but I’m grateful.
Follow me on Instagram: @brianreadsbooks
This is a story about losing and searching for identity, both at an individual level and a societal/community level. It’s about being lost and tying your hopes to the next great hero, over and over. It’s about trying on new identities, sometimes stolen identities, like a wardrobe, and still not finding yourself. The only certainty through the entire novel is the specter of death that appears from page one.
We hear the story alternately across two time/place settings: early 1990s Albania and late 1990s/eartly 2000s across Europe and New York City. In the former time, the narrator Bujar and his best friend Agim are desperate to escape their situation in a country at the brink of disaster, stuck in the middle of economic crisis and bordering wars on their ethnic Albanian family. Their relationship grows past friendship, especially as Agim’s own gender and sexuality begin to bloom. In the alternate later years, I was at first uncertain who the narrator was, only knowing that they too are running away from somewhere and something that haunts them.
This is not a happy book. I learned some history, and it prompted me to read more on Albanian/Kosovar relationship with Yugoslavia/Serbia. The author is Finnish-Kosovar, and I trust his voice as the storyteller. There was a clear message of the weight and depression felt by the Albanian people, whether in their homeland or the diaspora. Through the eyes of the narrator, it’s a defeated (dead?) society stuck in its traditional ways and yet always wanting to be something more. Using Bujar as the microcosm, the author plays out hardship after hardship for a character that can never be happy, and who inflicts great harm around him in his attempts to do so.
I’m glad I read this book. It gave me a story from a global perspective I hadn’t heard before. I’m honestly still struggling to process it, though.
Read more reviews with photos on my #bookstagram: @brianreadsbooks
We hear the story alternately across two time/place settings: early 1990s Albania and late 1990s/eartly 2000s across Europe and New York City. In the former time, the narrator Bujar and his best friend Agim are desperate to escape their situation in a country at the brink of disaster, stuck in the middle of economic crisis and bordering wars on their ethnic Albanian family. Their relationship grows past friendship, especially as Agim’s own gender and sexuality begin to bloom. In the alternate later years, I was at first uncertain who the narrator was, only knowing that they too are running away from somewhere and something that haunts them.
This is not a happy book. I learned some history, and it prompted me to read more on Albanian/Kosovar relationship with Yugoslavia/Serbia. The author is Finnish-Kosovar, and I trust his voice as the storyteller. There was a clear message of the weight and depression felt by the Albanian people, whether in their homeland or the diaspora. Through the eyes of the narrator, it’s a defeated (dead?) society stuck in its traditional ways and yet always wanting to be something more. Using Bujar as the microcosm, the author plays out hardship after hardship for a character that can never be happy, and who inflicts great harm around him in his attempts to do so.
I’m glad I read this book. It gave me a story from a global perspective I hadn’t heard before. I’m honestly still struggling to process it, though.
Read more reviews with photos on my #bookstagram: @brianreadsbooks
“Being seen racially is a common trigger of white fragility… to build our stamina, white people must face the first challenge: naming our race.”
I’m Brian and I’m a white man. It felt really weird the first time I said that. It made me realize how I’ve never had to identify as a race in my life prior.
“Whiteness rests upon a foundational premise: the definition of whites as the norm or standard for human, and people of color as deviation from that norm. Whiteness is not acknowledged by white people, and the white reference point is assumed to be universal and is imposed on everyone. White people find it very difficult to think about whiteness as a specific state of being that could have an impact on one’s life and perceptions.”
I saw DiAngelo speak in early 2018, along with others like Ijeoma Oluo, who wrote So You Want to Talk About Race (highly recommend!). Since then, I’ve been contemplating how my white racial lens affects the way I interact with people of color and other white people. I think back to past conversations and actions that make me cringe, but it helps me to reflect on where I went wrong and how I might do things differently now.
DiAngelo defines terms in a straightforward way, along with examples that helped me understand them. She helped me see how we feel when something we say/do is challenged as racist: attacked, shamed, guilty, accused, judged, angry, scared. And our behavior: crying, denying, physically leaving, focusing on our intentions over the impact/hurt it caused, arguing, seeking absolution. None of these leads us to critically examine ourselves, and thus we maintain our own white comfort and perpetuate the status quo discomfort of people of color.
I’m committing myself to her steps for receiving feedback, and changing my behavior: “1. How, where and when you give me feedback is irrelevant–it is the feedback I want and need…From my position of…white power and privilege, I am perfectly safe and I can handle it. If I cannot handle it, it’s on me to build my racial stamina. 2. Thank you.”
PoC, I welcome your feedback, on your terms, if and when you have the energy to give it.
Follow me on Instagram for more book reviews and photos: @brianreadsbooks
I’m Brian and I’m a white man. It felt really weird the first time I said that. It made me realize how I’ve never had to identify as a race in my life prior.
“Whiteness rests upon a foundational premise: the definition of whites as the norm or standard for human, and people of color as deviation from that norm. Whiteness is not acknowledged by white people, and the white reference point is assumed to be universal and is imposed on everyone. White people find it very difficult to think about whiteness as a specific state of being that could have an impact on one’s life and perceptions.”
I saw DiAngelo speak in early 2018, along with others like Ijeoma Oluo, who wrote So You Want to Talk About Race (highly recommend!). Since then, I’ve been contemplating how my white racial lens affects the way I interact with people of color and other white people. I think back to past conversations and actions that make me cringe, but it helps me to reflect on where I went wrong and how I might do things differently now.
DiAngelo defines terms in a straightforward way, along with examples that helped me understand them. She helped me see how we feel when something we say/do is challenged as racist: attacked, shamed, guilty, accused, judged, angry, scared. And our behavior: crying, denying, physically leaving, focusing on our intentions over the impact/hurt it caused, arguing, seeking absolution. None of these leads us to critically examine ourselves, and thus we maintain our own white comfort and perpetuate the status quo discomfort of people of color.
I’m committing myself to her steps for receiving feedback, and changing my behavior: “1. How, where and when you give me feedback is irrelevant–it is the feedback I want and need…From my position of…white power and privilege, I am perfectly safe and I can handle it. If I cannot handle it, it’s on me to build my racial stamina. 2. Thank you.”
PoC, I welcome your feedback, on your terms, if and when you have the energy to give it.
Follow me on Instagram for more book reviews and photos: @brianreadsbooks