There's a lot of surprising beauty in this slim novel. Saeed and Nadia are two well-traced characters and the trajectory of their relationship was rendered with care. I was surprised because I went into this not knowing it would contain an element of magical realism, thinking instead it was a straight refugee story and prepared myself thus. But it uses a gimmick that reminded me of The Underground Railroad in many ways, but this is not as harrowing. There are great slivers of stories between Saeed and Nadia's, too. While it's quite an entrancing overall tale, something seemed missing by book's end though I enjoyed it. Perhaps it was the journeys themselves.

A great 'empathy' read, one that doesn't judge but gives perspectives of refugees.

Read this because I heard of Marvel's initiative to create better, more rounded female characters (who aren't scantily clad) and from diverse backgrounds. I enjoyed this comic immensely, and I'm happy to jump on board with a series from it's #1. I like comic books, but am always get perplexed trying to figure out where to start on a series. I'll definitely be reading this one. Hurrah for Kamala, the Pakistani-American teenager - she's already a great character and I can't wait to see where this goes.

A brutal, depressing perspective on humanity. Perhaps not wrong, though. I felt like I cringed through this novel, a dystopian Joan of Arc narrative but tying Joan not to God/faith but earth/dirt ("Joan of Dirt"). There is a lot of intense description of what humans have done to themselves in the future, and how they've devolved after destroying the earth. There's also a lot of violence against children and women depicted; hard to stomach at times. Not for everyone, though Yuknavitch does present a compelling novel (and there may be layers of it lost to me, not a scholar by any means on historic figures like Joan, Christine de Pizan, Jean de Meun who were included in the book).

Perhaps this book was more a 3-star than 4, but what probably brought it up (and kept me going, tbh), was the narrator of the audiobook - her voice so intimate and calming, and weirdly reassuring. She does good work with a bleak tale!

An experimental novel that made me laugh out loud a bunch, though thoroughly confused me while doing so. It kind of comes together by the end. I enjoyed the ride, and understood its themes even if it was a little messy to parse through at times. Would zig and zag between funny and tragedy from one sentence to the next.

As I began this, I did not think I would like it very much by the end. Perhaps even halfway through I thought it middling, but that was probably because I did not like the narrator much. I didn't sympathize for him, though I realize now he isn't a person that would want sympathy. He lays out three different time periods of his life without defending himself against judgment, and I appreciated the sharp writing and prose quite a bit as he did so. I kept reading because I was intrigued about the 'secrets' he was holding, and by the end I was satisfied. It reads quickly and I'm glad to have spent the time with Kevin Pace (though I still don't like him much). I do like Everett's writing, though, and hope to seek out more of his novels now...

I sighed in dismay and horror while reading this. I had to pause at times to breathe a bit. I liked the main character a lot, and I haven't read many books from the first-person perspective of someone with PTSD. Gay's writing is eloquent and seems blunt but she describes a lot between the lines. It's what her words point to that store the horrors of what happened to Mireille; the reader is processing the extent of it all along with the characters around Mireille. A great book, if sometimes hard to read in terms of the brutality.

While picking the bookshelf tags for this book, I almost chose "graphic novel." It's a skin-crawling read; Nutting does not shy away from putting the reader in the main character's head, describing bluntly her explicit thoughts. And that character is a middle school teacher who preys on her teenage students. I almost read this with my hands over my eyes at certain parts, wincing as she detailed her sexual appetite and then exploits. YIKES!

At the same time, an incredible read in terms of perspective. As a reader, the character is repulsive--but how interesting to read from that kind of person's point of view. In first person. And as a reader I enjoyed thinking of her story and the plot from the other characters' points of view, and how these events really played out. Celeste is a monster, though her thoughts (and therefore the writing) are witty and even funny at times in their depravity.

That said, I'm so glad I don't have to be in her brain any longer. ::shudder::

I knew very little about this book as I started it, but I couldn't stop once I started. A novel about friendships and mythologizing--how relationships are about two people coming together but said relationship may look different to each person within it. How someone might choose to see their friend and friendship in a certain way for their own purposes, for their own story. The story is told from the point of view of one half of a friendship; when I finished the book I wanted to re-read it, and try to see it from the other half's. It's the second book I've read recently where I was curious about how the story looked from another angle. It made me consider my own friendships.

There's a lot of sadness within its pages, and I cried as the novel neared its end. There's something more emotional (to me) about the inner workings and hardships of a friendship than a romantic relationship. There's good insight about how life collides with people and paths change and people grow in different directions.

Random notes: there's a point in which a character is described recovering from birth in a hospital; was especially interesting to me having just done the same a few months ago. And, Leonardo DiCaprio references are always funny.

An interesting take on the typical coming of age story, especially since it's true. Minnie's voice is definitely that of a teenager. I certainly did not have the same experiences as Minnie, but I understood how she felt and the way that she wrote about them. Whenever I go back to the journals of my teenage years, I find myself cringing. I did the same at times reading this, but mostly because of the sex, drugs, and crap adults in Minnie's life. I loved the comics and drawings and came away feeling good because, hey, Minnie made it after all.

Now that I have a daughter of my own (a mere two months old...), I read a lot of this hoping that she will never have to deal with those kind of people or circumstances.