This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

“Our ultimate goal, after all, is not a good death but a good life to the very end.”

I feel like everything I’m really interested in is fairly taboo. I love talking about (and spent years studying) childbirth, breastfeeding, and sex ed…pretty much all topics that most people are afraid to touch. So to be honest, this felt almost like a natural extension of that. I’m really glad that I spotted this audiobook on the shelf the last time I was at the library because it was a captivating look at a topic that is completely under-talked about.

This book is an exploration of the way both doctors and ourselves deal with the deterioration of health, and eventual death, that we all must face. Whether it be from an unexpected terminal illness at a young age to the expected decline we all see as we reach old age, Gawande talks about how the priorities of medicine may not be in line with the priorities of humanity. And he explores how our collective inability to face the idea of death prevents the majority of us from ending our lives in control, the way we want to. Through stories, examples, and experiments both personal and otherwise, Gawande shows us how the end of life for the infirm usually looks, as well as how it could look. He talks about studies done to improve quality of life in nursing homes, the advent of the concept of assisted living, the current and potential uses of hospice care, and personal stories of friends, family members (his grandfather, his wife’s grandmother, his own father) and patients, among other examples, to illustrate his points and theories. He comments on our own discomfort in thinking or talking about “the end,” and how that leaves us completely unprepared to face it when it comes. And he talks about the failure of medical education to prepare doctors to help us face the inevitable and make the best decisions for ourselves and our loved ones when the time comes. In fact, he uses himself as examples in both cases, with is commendable and fascinating at the same time.

I really enjoyed some of the smaller points discussed within the larger framework. For example, we all want to believe the fantasy that we are ageless and that doctors can fix everything, which, along with doctors training being primarily in exactly that, we are now facing a dearth of physicians capable of helping the elderly effectively “manage” the unavoidable decline…there is no cure for old age. I loved the discussion of dependency that is included. Gawande really shows us that as we age, it is not the loss of our own functions, of death, that scares us the most (usually), but the loss of our ability to make our own decisions. The loss of independency, of a reason to live, of autonomy; when safety and the prolongment of life become more important than the quality of that life – that is the real fear. The plagues of old age (loneliness, boredom, helplessness) lead to the loss of a reasons greater/beyond oneself for living. Relatedly, the look at perspective, that the amount of time you have left in your life really changes what is important to you, is so interesting and really further emphasizes how important it is to let people make those decisions for themselves when they reach those different stages of life. Each person knows best what matters to them, but these wants/goals of the patient are rarely ever discussed and spelled out because that would mean broaching the topic of mortality. I was also really absorbed by the point that we, and our care providers, always seem very concerned about the dangers of “too little,” but almost never concerned by the possibilities of equal or greater harm from doing “too much.” Is it better to potentially shorten a life or decrease quality of life by trying too much treatment? Or is it better to look past simply elongating life and look the quality of the remaining time as a more primary motivator? The exploration here of what hospice care can do to that end, and what it currently looks like in practice, was one of my favorite parts.

Honestly, this book is one I really recommend. Having worked both in an assisted living facility and on an ICU unit in a major hospital, something I have really seen a lot of is people who are unable to face the thought of death. The repercussions of this, on the physical and emotional well-being of everyone involved can be devastating and long lasting. And though I’m not saying it’s easy, it is something we can make less horrible. It’s something we need to brace ourselves for and think about because it’s literally unavoidable. Gawande does a great job talking about so many aspects of the journey towards our own mortality, from multiple perspectives, and we all (personal, patient, doctor, and loved ones alike) would benefit from considering the questions he poses. When we eventually face the situations he is presenting here, what will be important to us? And how can we first respect, and then help those around us find and achieve what is important to them?

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

This has been on my TBR for years, but I’ve heard some mixed reviews so I was never overly concerned about getting around to it. Then, they announced the movie. And my husband was like, “A movie about immersion video games? With 80s pop culture trivia? Um, we are going to see this.” So, we jointly decided to read the book first (mostly on my insistence) and then have a lovely movie night date when it comes out. He read it first and dude, it only took like 2 days. He couldn’t put it down. The only other books I’ve seen him read like that are LOTR. Needless to say, I picked it up soon after he finished (I, of course, never like to be out of the loop on awesome books).

What. An. Adventure. And the detail. Oh my goodness. This is going to be a short review for me (gasp) but that definitely is not a reflection on the book. It’s just that, truly, there are only so many ways to say that this was a completely immersive, non-stop escapade of fun, danger, humor, and all the nerdy and 80s pop culture references a person could ever hope for. And those references are all inclusive: music, movies, books, games (video, board, arcade, role play); you name it, it’s referenced. Cline also does an amazing job developing the absolute separation, but parallel existence, of the virtual world in OASIS and the real world. Each is just as important as the other, in their own way, to the plot. And the few points he is able to get in about how each can help and harm the other are meaningful in their sparseness, making you think but not overdoing it. They are layered and woven together perfectly and complexly – it’s incredibly impressive.

I can see why it may not be for some people. The depth of information on games and gaming systems, both old school and the updated complete virtual reality version in the book (OASIS), does border on the intense. As do, really, many of the hardcore references. However, as someone who would consider herself a borderline nerd, it definitely didn’t stop me from enjoying the journey. A basic level of nerdiness (Star Wars, some 80s rock/pop, X-men, and other general nerd pop culture) will be more than enough to get you through. Cline does a great job explaining the more obscure references for anyone who doesn’t immediately catch them, and of course if you want more, there’s always the internet. I definitely Googled a few things along the way. Plus, I truly feel like the details about the technology of OASIS and the specifics of the retro movies and arcade games can be skimmed, if they start to feel excessive and that’s not your cup of tea, without taking anything away from the overall pull and pacing of the novel. Maybe that’s blasphemous? But I’m just being honest. Don’t let the fact that you may not get every reference or care about every detail stop you from reading because it’s so worth reading!

So, I recommend that, ASAP, you do yourself a favor, pick up this book and get ready for the adventure of a lifetime with Parzival, Art3mis and Aech (along with their various allies and enemies) as they race to solve Halliday’s posthumous, 80s-themed, virtual reality quests and be the one to win his unclaimed fortune!

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

“Happiness shouldn’t be this hard.”

My first Adam Silvera! I have been hearing so so much about him lately, especially with his newest release, They Both Die at the End. When I added that one to my TBR list, I looked back, saw that I had two others by him already on the list, and realized it was probably time for me to actually read one of them. So, more or less randomly (and by that, I mean based on what was available at my library…), I decided to start with More Happy Than Not. I really love the sexual and racial representation that Silvera is bringing to the YA literary genre (I wish more general/adult authors representing like this would get big) and am super happy to read and support his works. It definitely doesn’t hurt that they are super well written and relatable. And I just really wish that there were more authors writing these types of characters when I was actually a YA age reader – I think it would have helped me get to be where I am today (as far as understanding and acceptance) much faster.

This is the story of Aaron Soto, a high schooler living in the Bronx. His family is pretty poor and after his father’s recent suicide, he has struggled with some of his own mental health issues. But he has an amazing girlfriend, Genevieve, a job at a local market, and a pretty solid group of neighborhood friends. But then he meets a new guy, from an adjacent neighborhood, Thomas. And as he and Thomas start to spend more and more time together, he realizes that his feelings for Thomas are perhaps different than he thought, more along the types of feelings he should have (but maybe isn’t anymore) for Genevieve. Of course, being gay isn’t really acceptable in such a rough area of the Bronx (or, let’s be honest, most places) and Aaron finds himself really unhappy. So he starts considering Leteo, a new memory adjustment technology that can erase memories…and make you forget the parts of yourself that you wish were more ‘normal.’

I went into this expecting an emotional ride, but one that I could more or less predict the course of.
Well, I was definitely wrong – almost none of this plot was predictable. And though the expected topics are definitely the focal point, particularly sexuality and social class, there is a lot more going on here. We definitely get the anticipated challenges and trauma related to being gay: Aaron’s original “discovery” of this facet of himself, his coming out to his family (the good and the… very bad), the things he does and people he uses to pretend he’s straight, the harmful reactions of his friends and community, etc. But there is also quite a bit on top of that that I hadn’t necessarily predicted, like Thomas’ reaction to his confidence, the complications of Genevieve’s role and feelings for him, his own “re-discovery” of his gay-ness. Honestly, this was a story with a much deeper message about complexity and profundity of sexuality than it seemed like it would be. The themes of sense of self and self-acceptance are intense and difficult, because the choices between social ostracization versus oblivion are completely unfair (and totally fabricated). And though forgetting may seem like the easiest way to achieve happiness, there is also a deep-seated unhappiness in having to pretend or forgetting your true self that will, eventually, win out. And in the end, perhaps that “more happy than not” feeling that you get when you choose to accept both yourself and the suffering that includes in still better than the alternative options. Aaron is a wonderfully flawed (in all your typical teenage ways, though with admittedly extreme circumstances) and haunted hero for anyone who had grieved and lived through pain on their way towards trying to find their own happily ever after. And he is also the model icon for everyone who has learned that happily ever after is not a perfect ending of total happiness, but a compromise of happiness while accepting who we truly are (no more hiding or pretending) and learning to live with loss and a normal amount of self-loathing. But we adjust. And we make the best of it.

As far as the writing itself, this was solidly done. Aaron’s voice is strong and alive, the dialogue is realistic, and the characters’ relationship developments are nuanced and well-paced. I loved some of the little details that Silvera added, like Genevieve staying up to watch the clocks turn on time change nights or Aaron’s mom’s swear word spelling bees, that really brought these characters to life. And there were some really cute over-arching details, like Aaron’s comic book storyline or inability to ride a bike, that transcended his memory and stayed constant through each narrative. Although Aaron was an imperfect, partially unreliable, narrator, he told his own story with strength and honesty. And it was beautiful for that. Also, I don’t really know anything about the author’s story, other than the inside cover description and the acknowledgements at the end of the novel. However, based on just that, I am willing to bet this is at least partially told out of personal experience – the strength of feeling really shows throughout. Hats off and giant bear hugs sent.

“In that moment, I wish my existence were as simple as being set on fire and exploding in the sky.”

“Sometimes pain is so unmanageable that the idea of spending another day with it seems impossible. Other times pain acts as a compass to get you through the messier tunnel of growing up. But the pain can only help you find happiness if you can remember it.”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

This is one of those books that I just kept seeing around. It was all over bookstagram – like every third book stack had it in there. And maybe other books were similarly present, but I mean, just look at the colors on that cover: bold and proud. It does more than catch the eye, it jumps right into them. So this was one of those impulse library checkouts for me. It jumped out at me from the shelf and pretty much forced me to add to my bag. Well, I’m not complaining.

I really had no idea what this book was about before I started. And after finishing, I compared what I had just read to the inside cover blurb and realized that even if I had read that, I still wouldn’t have really known what awaited me between the covers. This is the story of Yejide, a (when we meet her at the beginning) young Nigerian woman. She is just out of university, owns and operates a salon and is married to Akin, who she fell in love with at school. Things are good until, a few years into marriage, Yejide still isn’t pregnant. Now, the blurb makes you think that, when at this point Akin takes a second wife at the urging of his mother and to the horror of Yejide, this is the crux of the tale. It suggests that the threat to Yejide and Akin’s relationship is from this new wife. But let me tell you, it is much deeper, much more painful and much more personal than that. And I would argue too that any threats to their relationship are still not the crux of the story. For me, this is the story of Yejide’s personal journey and struggles.

This novel is written mostly from Yejide’s point of view. However, there are six or so sections that are told in Akin’s voice. Since they come up so infrequently, I wasn’t sure they were really necessary, and that perhaps they took away from the journey we are on with Yejide. After finishing, I have changed my mind and do think they add something. I’m not sure what, whether it is nuance to the full picture of Yejide’s character, an extra level to our understanding of the whole story, additional insight into Nigeria and its’ culture, or just confirmation that Yejide is a reliable narrator despite some evidence to the contrary. Perhaps some combination of them all. But regardless, I did come away with a fuller experience due to their presence. The writing itself is sparse and harsh, but still emotional and rich. The vernacular of the speech, which I have no personal experience with but trust was correct, really set the ambience more than anything else, even the descriptions of the environment/culture/traditions themselves. And I loved the little details, insignificant in the overall development of the story, but essential to keeping us in that ambience; things like “…when I was a little child, before my right hand was long enough to touch my left ear.” These are the small pieces that serve as reminder that we are in a different space than one we know.

Yejide’s emotional struggles with conception, pregnancy, childbirth, motherhood and loss are the center point of this novel. The relationship she has with herself and the world around her, due to these struggles, is the relationship that most moved and upset me, as a reader. Much more so than her relationship with her husband, Akin. How far one would go, what costs one would incur, to save your family by having a child is explored from both Akin and Yejide’s point of view. Each of them makes decisions or keeps secrets from the other to have a child. And though those deceptions and extremes most assuredly create the breaking point in their relationship, there is so much more going on that contributes, and even sets the stage, as well. The power of cultural importance in dictating happiness (in this case, the importance put on motherhood), even over personal preference and interrelationship truth, is fascinating and, truly, universal. Although in different cases or places the dictates of culture may change, the power in wields holds consistent. In this case, the focus on having a child, almost to the exclusion of anything else that could make you successful as a woman in the eyes of your culture, is something that resonated with me deeply. Although Yejide and I actually want the opposite on this point, her to be a mother and myself to not be one, that does not change the pressure from our societies and the mental and emotional strain those pressures can cause. In fact, I was surprised at how much I felt parallel to her, despite our opposing desires. That spoke to me deeply and I was very impressed with the author and this novel for its’ ability to unite such opposing views in such a way. It is a sign, in my opinion, of great talent.

My one complaint is around the political pieces of the story. As I mentioned earlier, the descriptions of the environment do less to create that ambience of the story than other elements. And this is definitely the case here. I do understand that culturally and historically the politics of the country are important, and they play a role in painting a picture of the country in general, I do not think they played a large enough part in this story to be worthy of including. The little sections about the coups and military control and bought policemen were mostly background, or sidelined, to the main stage for me. They were interesting, to be sure, but not strong or compelling enough, or interwoven effectively enough, to compete with the interpersonal and emotional issues that this story was built around.

However, overall, this is a forceful and expressive debut. It tells of the strengths and vulnerabilities of womanhood and motherhood in an incredibly evocative, yet perfectly unsentimental way.

Some of that gorgeous, sparse, unsentimental writing about love and loss:

“If the burden is too much and stays too long, even love bends, cracks, comes close to breaking and sometimes does break. But when it's in a thousand pieces around your feet, that doesn't mean it's no longer love.”

“It’s the truth – stretched, but still true. Besides, what would be left of love without truth stretched beyond its limits, without those better versions of ourselves that we present as the only ones that exist?”

“…I realized that the ground under our feet had just been pulled away, we were standing on air, and my words could not keep us from falling into the pit that had opened up beneath us.”

“The days passed slowly, each minute pregnant with hope, each second tremulous with tragedy.”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

This is where I usually try to have a little quippy introduction, or a short story about myself and how I ended up reading this book, before I start the actual review. I find that it adds a little personalization to what is otherwise, hopefully, a fairly objective review (though I suppose that a review, in and of itself, can be considered nothing if not subjective). Regardless, I have nothing cute to say here. This is a nonfiction piece that has been on my TBR list for far too long, and I finally fulfilled what I consider as my societal obligation to read it. And I mean obligation in the sense that I am morally bound to do so, as a citizen of the US and the person I believe myself to be, not in the sense that I am forced to do something that I am opposed to, but must anyways because it is so prescribed (like taxes).

Going into this, I had large expectations. I had yet to hear anything negative about it. And it has received much recognition and many awards. I was nervous, as a result, because sometimes these extreme expectations result in a letdown after experiencing it oneself. However, when just partway into the book I realized that I had already wanted to highlight/record/earmark almost every passage, I knew this would be a case of fully filled, and possibly even exceeded, expectations. In fact, although I did manage to pull some quotes and have added them to the end, it is really only a small representation of how many parts of this book struck me strongly. And the only way for you to really understand (and along the way to learn and grow) is to read it yourself. So please, please do it.

Although it is written in the form of a letter to his son, this work is really a letter to us all; written to and for black men, but no less (and probably even more) illustrative and revelatory for the rest of us as well. Coates reflects on numerous profound questions from the origins of the man-made construction of “race” to how that invention has led to a history of exploitation of the bodies of black men and women. From slavery to segregation to the new age systemic racism of today, Coates speaks of the suppression and oppression of black history and culture and pride and bodies. This history is a burden that falls primarily on the shoulders of black people in America, but whose responsibility falls squarely on those of us who have convinced ourselves that we are white, that that that means something, and gives us to right to use, mistreat, discard black people, and then be allowed to forget that we have done so. The illumination of the depth of the delusions we (white people) live under in the US is intense and necessary. Coates speaks of these topics both in an academic and a personal way – speaking from his studies, his interviews and observances and his own experiences. And along the way we see how his own opinions and outlooks have developed and grown, along with his reflection that the room to make these mistakes or believe these misconceptions, and then the chance to recognize and grow from those, is something we all deserve, but do not all receive. It’s not easy to hear everything Coates has to say, but that is precisely why we need to listen. The cognitive dissonance created by his words must be embraced.

I first listened to this as an audiobook and then followed that up with a review of the printed version, in order to revisit some of the most affecting passages (the writing is expressive, powerful, almost tangible – every single word has value and carries a heavy weight, there is no extravagance of language or unnecessary ornament here). I was pleasantly surprised (I love when this happens) when Coates himself was the narrator. And the flow of the writing, like written spoken word (or just really spoken word, on the audiobook) is surprisingly soft and melodic for all the harsh realities and experiences it contains. That juxtaposition leaves you with a simultaneously shattered and redemptive feel, a proper post-read mood for this piece.

The blurb on the back of the print copy of this book, from Toni Morrison, says “This is required reading.” I could not agree more. And then once read, it must be shared – recommended, taught, discussed. It must be acknowledged and accepted. And then, it must be acted upon.

Just a small selection of the many passages I highlighted:

“But race is the child of racism, not the father. And the process of naming “the people” has never been a matter of genealogy and physiognomy so much as one of hierarchy. Difference in hue and hair is old. But the belief in the preeminence of hue and hair, the notion that these factors can correctly organize a society and that they signify deeper attributes, which are indelible—this is the new idea at the heart of these new people who have been brought up hopelessly, tragically, deceitfully, to believe that they are white.”

“I was made for the library, not the classroom. The classroom was a jail of other people’s interests. The library was open, unending, free.”

“But all our phrasing—race relations, racial chasm, racial justice, racial profiling, white privilege, even white supremacy—serves to obscure that racism is a visceral experience, that it dislodges brains, blocks airways, rips muscle, extracts organs, cracks bones, breaks teeth. You must never look away from this. You must always remember that the sociology, the history, the economics, the graphs, the charts, the regressions all land, with great violence, upon the body.”

“So I feared not just the violence of this world but the rules designed to protect you from it, the rules that would have you contort your body to address the block, and contort again to be taken seriously by colleagues, and contort again so as not to give the police a reason. All my life I’d heard people tell their black boys and black girls to “be twice as good,” which is to say “accept half as much.” These words would be spoken with a veneer of religious nobility, as though they evidenced some unspoken quality, some undetected courage, when in fact all they evidenced was the gun to our head and the hand in our pocket. This is how we lose our softness. This is how they steal our right to smile.”

“The forgetting is habit, is yet another necessary component of the Dream. They have forgotten the scale of theft that enriched them in slavery; the terror that allowed them, for a century, to pilfer the vote; the segregationist policy that gave them their suburbs. They have forgotten, because to remember would tumble them out of the beautiful Dream and force them to live down here with us, down here in the world. I am convinced that the Dreamers, at least the Dreamers of today, would rather live white than live free. In the Dream they are Buck Rogers, Prince Aragorn, an entire race of Skywalkers. To awaken them is to reveal that they are an empire of humans and, like all empires of humans, are built on the destruction of the body. It is to stain their nobility, to make them vulnerable, fallible, breakable humans.”

“Then the mother of the murdered boy rose, turned to you, and said, “You exist. You matter. You have value. You have every right to wear your hoodie, to play your music as loud as you want. You have every right to be you. And no one should deter you from being you. You have to be you. And you can never be afraid to be you.”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

"Ideas are the asexual reproduction of the mind."

"The things you care most about are the ones that leave the biggest holes."

I’ve been in the mood for some good contemporary YA recently, so I spent a little time browsing in the YA section of my library last week. I didn’t necessarily go in with a plan to get anything in particular (other than the Silvera that I just recently finished/reviewed) – I planned to just see what jumped out. First, let me just say that one of the perks of a small-ish town library is that there is usually not a long wait list for new releases. And on top of that, it meant that this particular browsing trip was incredibly successful. I found like 7 or 8 pretty new and very popular YA titles and it was a struggle to limit myself to just 3. In fact, in retrospect, I am impressed with my own self-restraint. In any case, this was one of the winners…

This is the story of Eliza Mirk – creator of the hugely popular Monstrous Sea web comic (anonymously known at LadyConstellation in the online forums and fandom) and painfully shy and awkward high school senior. Her only two friends (and the only people who know her real identity are online) and she is ok with mediocrely skating quietly through the last year of school and trying to restart herself in college. But then a new kid comes to school, Wallace, and he is a huge MS fan (arguably the biggest one) and they bond over his fanfiction and her “fanart.” Both quiet, they find ways to communicate that make things easier for them both and Eliza decides that perhaps trying a little more in real life could be worth it. But then something happens, the worst thing happens (in Eliza’s opinion) and her identity as LadyConstellation is leaked. And the fallout she faces at school, in her family, with Wallace and, most challengingly, internally, threatens to break her and the world of MS.

There were so many things that I loved about this book. First, how current it is. With the technology of the present day, the omnipresence of the internet, this story really gets to the heart of being young today. There are so many positive sides to this interconnectedness and ready availability of communication, bringing together people that love the same things and providing refuge and support for those that cannot always make that happen in real life. However, there are many downsides as well, like the fact anonymity is so hard to maintain and so easy to lose, the inability to fully block the negative commentary and feedback, etc. And the portrayal of parents who did not grow up with the benefits/downsides of the internet, and are perhaps unable to completely grasp its role (partially because it is a concept nigh on impossible to explain) is spot on. The exploration of mental health and what a deterioration/breakdown looks and feels like was, while short, fairly realistic. And I was happy with the way it was written and how it (and the story overall) ended. Finally, I cannot get over the descriptions and role of Eliza’s brothers. I am also the oldest girl with two younger brothers, and I feel like Zappia nailed it. There were so many times growing up that I felt they were distant from me, as people, or I didn’t really know about them/what mattered to them. But at the same time, and especially now that I’m older and looking back, the role they end of playing when the ball drops on Eliza’s identity is absolutely true and perfect. And it’s the part of the story that made me cry. I read it like 6 times. Love.

As far as writing and presentation, I thought that each of the voices were vibrant and quick and authentic. They were wonderfully geeky and self-conscious and I recognize real people in their cadence and words. I also loved (like, loved) the stylistic pieces of this novel. The sections set up like chat room discussions, the written conversations between Eliza and Wallace, the (rough, pre-published) sketches of comic pages, the final version/published pages from MS, the sections of what I assume are Wallace’s fanfiction and transcriptions of the MS story, the forum home page view/comment counts, the ads for MS gear. All of it added a phenomenal extra dimension to the story that really brought it to life. I also loved the challenge of working to piece together the characters and storyline of Monstrous Sea, at the same time that I was reading and following the story of our “real life” characters. I love that type of creative and layered reading experience.

This is a truly artistic ode to geekiness and fandoms – the family and security they can provide – and those that give them to us. It covers the dark side of these groups as well, in a way that really provides insight into the pressure on the creators, the joint responsibility on the artists and the fans to support each other, and what can happen when they don’t. And it does all that while painting an authentic picture of the unique challenges of being “weird” as a young adult today.

Ahhhhhhhh yes...this was the conclusion I was looking for. I love each of the characters Schwab created and developed and it was so EASY to slip back into their stories. And I read this slow, like it took me almost 5 days, because I just wasn't ready to say goodbye. I dragged it out like nobody's business. But, as they say, all good things must come to and end. And what an end it was. [WARNING: moving forwards, there will likely be spoilers.]

It's hard to write through all my feelings, but bottom line is: what a whole lot of growing up happened here. I mean, the most obvious was Rhy, in his interactions with Alucard, his "for the people" attitude, his ascension after his parents deaths (and hot damn, that was a blow) - he just stepped right up and became the leader he was always meant to be (prior rogueish-ness falling fully into his past). And coming to terms with, re-learning, who/what he is after Kell's life-saving spell/connection. For Lila, the ability to admit that creating connections is worth it - the consistency and support and, possibly (though sneakily, and within character for her, it's never confirmed), love - it's worth the fear of loss that comes with it. But she keeps her snark, her spark, and her impossible-ness...the borderline anti-heroine that we fell in love with was never lost or compromised. And THAT, honestly, might be the most impressive part of this saga and something I respect the hell out of the author for being able to make happen. Kell, well he learned a bit about his own limits and fallibility, which as clearly sobering, but was also able to come to accept himself, his gifts and his role, and that, in the end, he deserved the place and the family he had. I LOVED that he, and we, never never found out about his past (that he chose not to). What an acceptance from him, to settle into the full knowledge that what he has/had was enough. It was worth fighting and losing everything for, for him, so what more could you ask for/need? And then, after that (and with the super sad loss of Maxim and Emira), his chance to let go of the responsibility and fear and be able to take a chance to go see the world, to travel, to spend time with Lila and go on adventures with her, for himself. Good for him. And for Rhy, in understanding and letting him go. Alucard, I mean his was letting go of his past (his family, his mistakes, his weaknesses) and working to be brave/ready enough to share his truth, so that the past would stop affecting his present and his future. He fought for his love. And he and Rhy just make my heart smile SO big. Two such intense, confident, outward rogues who are so tender and unsure with each other. It's beautiful. Parallel-ly, I enjoyed the Kell-Alucard interactions, both with Rhy as first in their heart and the protection and jealously they harbor against each other because of it was very real and very fun to read. And finally Holland. Oh, Holland. I loved his character from book 1 and he just became more and more the gold standard of character development throughout the trilogy. What a tragic character he is - romantic (in the traditional sense, not with the ladies, of course), abused, betrayed, let down, hopeful and, in the end, redeemed and exhausted. He is everything. I enjoyed so much the snippets of his past, how much more we got to know him and his story, and how much insight they gave. His already sympathetic character was even further developed down that line. He wasn't able to save his own world the way he wanted to, but he was able to save another, and then he was able to end his life on his own terms. His own terms - something he'd been denied his whole life. His interactions with every single character, both upon (generally negative) first meeting and all the way through to the end, when they all began to "trust" him. He came the farthest, the others came the farthest for him, and he was both the secret and not so secret focal point of this story. I just can't say enough about him. Then there's Osaron, his actions and goals and final defeat. What a cool "big bad." All ethereal, intangible power. Really interesting. And Ned, I loved his cameos and the role he played. Just adorable. And, as a person living in a world without magic, definitely someone I identify with. I'd worship Kell too. Maris was an awesome new side character...like of all the characters in this trilogy, if given the choice, I think I'd be her. She has to have seen SO much, she must know so much - what a cool character. Hastra - oh, my heart. I still can't deal.

Just all in all, a rousing adventure, a gorgeously written set a relationships, an exciting plot line. The pacing was perfect (I love the short chapters - compulsively page-turn-able.) The writing and dialogue was on point. A perfect wrap-up with the exact right number of happy and sad endings.

Also, don't think I didn't notice that Lila still owes Maris a favor that wasn't called in on during this book. Honestly, I loved that - it's a bit of a loose end, you could argue that, BUT it's one of those open ended favor/promises that always tends to come up at the worst/best time and, often, is a super transparent plot device. I like that way it was handled differently here. And reasonably so...Maris is an experienced, calculating person and that favor is the kind of thing you hold onto. It would have been outside her character to call it in as quickly as it would have had to be, in order to fit within the time scope of this novel. Plus, it gives me hope that we'll see Lila and Kell back again...maybe a spin off, chronicling their travel adventures? My fingers are crossed.

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

“A clockwork forest grew in the front window, its branches warped and host to a flock of tiny birds, its floor carpeted in the white, coralline moss that grew in Scandanavia […] Mori walked around the workshop with a basket of tiny glass balls, each magnetized and charged with phosphorescent dust, lobbing them gently into the air, where they hovered and formed constellations around the orrery. One afternoon, a swarm of clockwork fireflies soared in through the kitchen door and arranged themselves into a bell jar, where they pulsed different shades of yellow and orange.”

This one has been on my TBR for a while, over a year for sure, and I’m not sure what made me finally pick it up. I’m also not sure what I thought it was about when I added it to my TBR, because after starting to read it, I realized it was absolutely nothing like what I had been expecting. Maybe it was the title? Maybe the cover (which is the just gorgeous in color and detail, but in hardcover, it’s a keyhole design – a circular cutout over the face of the timepiece – and I just have a large soft spot for those since the literary magazine that I was co-editor of in high school had a keyhole cover on our award-winning edition)? Regardless of why I decided to read it or why I picked it up now, I’m very glad I did.

Thaniel lives alone and works as a telegrapher in the Home Office in London. Pretty tedious life. But when he comes home one day to find a watch on his bed, a watch that saves his life a few months later, he is drawn into a sweeping journey through London that involves extreme nationalistic Irish groups (and bombs!), civilian spy work and a huge promotion at work, learning Japanese, a female physicist named Grace, a new friend in the strange watchmaker Keita Mori, and a whole bucket full of coincidences that he needs to try and unravel.

This is one of the most atmospheric books I’ve ever read. From page one, a fog seemed to settle around me as I read, pulling me far from the couch in my house where I usually read and into a mysterious, mystical, parallel history of Vistorian England and the end of feudal Japan. The air of mystery and all-knowing/seer-ness (I cannot think of a better way to describe it) hangs over every page, even the ones that are simply describing everyday details and events. It was the perfect tone and ambiance for this tale. I also loved the pacing. It was steady and smooth and refused to be rushed, with characters and plotlines unfolding at exactly the peed the author intended and not a moment sooner or later. It was so deliberate and masterful. The writing lends itself to this atmosphere and pace perfectly…with a sort of disconnectedness paragraph to paragraph and vague antecedents that make you think, as a reader, and slow down your reading to match it to the intended pace of the story. (As someone who usually reads rather quickly, this was an interesting and refreshing experience...I think it allowed me to more fully enjoy being in the world that had been created and watch the developments as they unfolded.)

The mix of science and magic used to create steampunk is balanced flawlessly here. The clockwork elements and the science of ether are seamlessly interwoven with the more magical aspects, like Mori’s clairvoyance/special skills (weather realted, for example) or Thaniel’s ability to see sound in color. And Katsu, Mori’s pet octopus, is himself a perfect example of the smooth combination of science and magic. (Side comment: I loved Katsu’s preoccupation with socks!) Of note, I really enjoyed the moral and metaphysical exploration of the idea of clairvoyance. It makes its presence in the story more than just a plot device (which is a role it also fills quite successfully). The advantages and dangers as a result of being able to see the future, or possible futures, are both considered. And they are considered fairly and evenly, without a clear preference or answer on the part of the author (and I love when authors are able to do that!) all within the natural scope of the story.

The relationships that grow (or are “manipulated” into being, depending on your perspective, I suppose) are each individual and natural. The characters are written into a beautiful and eccentric reality in a way that makes you feel as if you have known them forever. They are complex and nuanced and I was truly delighted at where they all ended up. Truly. That, along with a fitting denouement that wrapped things up smoothly and without any over-celebration that would have been at odds with the tone of the rest of the story, and a cheeky last action that left me smiling, this ending was a most satisfying conclusion to a spectacular narrative.

This is the type of genre-bending novel that I just love. History, magic, mystery, philosophy (in the scientific sense) and a little romance all thrown together, it’s got a little bit of everything and a whole lot of something special.

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

This. Book. Was. Gorgeous. I laughed. I cried. I did both again. And I got completely swallowed up by the stories and the characters and never wanted the book to end. I honestly don't remember what being 8 was like, well almost 8, and maybe some people who remember better may say this wasn't the most authentic 8 year old voice, but I'll tell you, I bought into every precocious second of it. Elsa was a phenomenal narrator. Her grandmother's fairy tales, and how they translated into the real life people in Elsa's life, was one of the most interesting devices and use/non-use of suspension of disbelief that I have ever encountered. Each character had their own story, their own growth and transformation, and they all made sense within the confines of the story and the timeline, nothing too much. And even Granny, even in death, her character matured and grew as you read about her and her relationships with each character in turn. This is one of those special coming of age fairy tales that is able to completely transport you and keeps a hold on your heart long after you read it. There is really nothing I can write that would give this story enough credit. This book was out of this world. It was the Land-of-Almost-Awake. And everyone should take the time to visit.

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

“If you travel long enough, every story becomes a novel.”

I picked up this book, well actually, audiobook, because a couple of the “feminist” pieces I’ve read this year referenced Steinem, her writing and her work. I had heard of her, of course, and had some inkling of what she has done, but decided that perhaps I should know more. It’s always a richer contemporary reading experience when you truly understand the references they’re making. In any case, long story short, I just finished listening and I truly enjoyed the experience.

Steinem was there for what was (is?) the history of the modern feminist movement in America. And hearing her observations and experiences from the 1970s to today was fascinating. She tells her story, if you will, through the lens of being on the road. From the constant travels of her childhood (her father was quite restless) through the itinerant organizing of her adulthood, she shows us how much a person can learn and do simply by not settling down. The narrative jumps around a lot, in much the same manner as her life, which is both a little confusing (there is no true timeline) and probably an accurate story-telling parallel to the way her life actually flows. I thought that the way she wrote, in a sort of conversational stream of conscious, did help to smooth out some of those quick/numerous transitions, but definitely be prepared.

There were a few sections I particularly enjoyed. One was the part where Steinem highlighted why, for all her traveling, she never drives. She talks about everything she has heard and learned from taxi drivers and on public transportation and really does show how much you would miss if you insulate yourself in your own vehicle while on the road. The stories she tells about what she hears from drivers, and the changes she has seen when she’s bumped back into them years later (by chance) are so interesting and entertaining. On a more emotional level, I’ll be honest and say that the passages about the cooperation and ground-breaking at the National Women’s Conference in Houston were so inspirational and beautiful that I totally teared up while listening. That conference changed so much for women in this country and it’s the basis for a lot of women’s health rights that we covered in my own studies. So hearing about how powerful it was from someone who was not only there, but helped organize it, is something I am incredibly grateful for.

In a general sense, the breadth of what Steinem has lived through and worked on is mind-blowing. She covers so many aspects of feminism, from the basics and the start of the modern movement to the issues of intersectionality in race and gender and culture (including the internal conflicts regarding those crossovers) to the grassroots political movements involved (and then the larger political movements…) to her own personal journeys in speaking about these topics. She particularly does a great job in addressing those issues of intersectionality and giving voice and focus to groups that are even more marginalized than women in general, like Native American, black and homosexual women. Plus, there were some wonderful cameos from other up and coming powerful women, now household names, like RBG and Hillary Clinton and Wilma Mankiller. Seeing their connections to one another before they became as “famous” as they are now was thrilling and a little surreal.

Overall, Steinem’s life and stories are mesmerizing. And the knowledge she drops, born of experience, is remarkable. Here’s a couple examples to whet your appetite:

“You're always the person you were when you were born," she says impatiently. "You just keep
finding new ways to express it.”

“Decisions are best made by the people affected by them.” and “Anybody who is experiencing something is more expert in it than the experts.”

“No wonder studies show that women's intellectual self-esteem tends to go down as years of education go up. We have been studying our own absence.”

“Human beings have an almost infinite capacity to adjust to the expectations that surround us, which is both the good news and the bad news.”

“Women of all groups were measurably more likely than their male counterparts to vote for equality, health, and education, and against violence as a way of solving conflict. It wasn’t about biology, but experience.”

“The first step towards speaking for others is speaking for ourselves.”

“The root of oppression is the loss of memory.”