I LOVE Quentin Blake’s illustrations— but the actual retellings fell really flat for me. I do think it takes a very strong writer to write folktales in a way that feels both fresh and true to the original. I think the magic of folktales can disappear when that oral aspect is lost, and you have to do a lot of work to reignite that magic in a different way. That just wasn’t done here for me. I found myself pretty bored. Maybe a true lover of folktales would enjoy, but I needed more. 

loved this series so much. so much power in choosing who you are, in choosing to forgive (yourself and others), in choosing your family. 

how lovely to read something that believes so fiercely in forgiveness, in growth, in seeing the best in others. magical and warm. 

so so lovely. eerie and comforting and magical— became of the magic, yes, and because of the friendship and the family and the persistent feeling in your gut that tells your you’re more than the box they’ve stuffed you in. 

Just like the author, I identify as genderqueer and nonbinary; I don’t see myself as male or female. And yet, there’s very little in this book I directly related to (except those specifics labels and a love of One Direction and fanfiction!)— and that’s exactly why I adored it so much. The scope and range of queer and trans experience is so fucking rad. It wasn’t my experience, but it was such a gorgeous one, one that I understood in my bones even though my bones had not carried that specific sort of weight. Because all of us have carried that weight. Of confusion and play and euphoria and pain. And while the way that manifests looks vastly different for all of us, we still understand one another. And God, I love that. 

At one point the author describes gender as a landscape, “Some people are born in the mountains. Some are born by the sea. Some people are happy to live in the place they were born, while other must make a journey to reach the climate in which they can’t flourish and grow. Between the oceans and mountains is a wild forest. That is where I want to make my home.”  I’m not sure I’ve found the climate in which I thrive yet. I’m wandering around. Sometimes in the forest, sometimes in the ocean, sometimes in the mountains, sometimes in the swamps, sometimes in the desert and sometimes in places that are more and less and all. 

Art that reminds you that connection is grand in it’s smallness, that it is all encompassing, that all our things hold all sorts of meaning, that it’s okay to play with what feels so heavy. 

My heart is so full. How fun, how lovely, how queer. I can’t stop smiling. 

Jason Reynolds always kills it. He makes the  settings and characters in everyday life feel so vivid and magical, while still honest and genuine. He invites us into spaces warm and confusing and hopeful. He’s an adult who remembers, so clearly, the power and the humor and the love in a child’s perspective. Where apartment buildings can be castles and building supers can be superheroes. This was such a joy to read. 

This d¥ke loves f@gs. Solidarity 4ever.