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

I had heard of this book in passing, but really had no idea what it was about at all. I think I’d seen someone on Instagram post that their mother was listening to the audiobook and loving it, had told her it was hilarious. So when I was looking for a new audiobook at the library and saw this one, I figured why not? Well, whoever that person’s mother is…she was right. In addition to being a thoroughly entertaining story, the narrator was phenomenal! There were a number of times where, upon reaching my destination, I did not want to stop the book and get out of the car.

Starting with my quick synopsis: this book is, obviously, about Bernadette, an idiosyncratic middle-aged mother living in Seattle and choosing to leave behind a past of reasonable fame and drama. Her husband, Elgin, is a VIP at Microsoft and her daughter, Bee, is a precocious and…unique…middle schooler. The story is told through a collection of letters, emails, transcriptions, and various other documents written to/from/by neighbors, Elgin and his coworkers, the school administration, other school parents, a digital personal assistant, health care professionals, and even the FBI. These documents are interspersed with occasional asides from Bee, like stories about her friend Kennedy, time spent with her mother, their dog Ice Cream, and her excitement about the upcoming family trip to Antarctica (as she requested, in celebration of her wonderful grades and impending middle school graduation). So for all that this story follows Bernadette, and her gradual but mostly unavoidable descent to a mini break down and disappearance, followed by a dramatic search and rescue mission orchestrated by Bee, it’s all told circumstantially until the end, when we really, finally, get to hear from Bernadette herself.

First, let me just say that, even though this story telling format is not always my favorite and (I feel) can often become trite, it was well utilized here! It lent itself to the story’s exploration of different perspectives of the same events, and how mistakes and misinterpretations can run rampant, causing anything from humorous miscommunication to more serious misunderstandings. Plus, it was fun to hear all the characters individual thoughts/feelings come through in their writing, as opposed to the more limited way we’d hear from them in a normal third person narrative. Plus, with the narrator being so awesome (and OMG was she amazing), all the separate voices really came to life in a special way as I listened to the audiobook.

Overall, this was such a well told and developed story – fun and dramatic with snarky insights that I found myself giggle-smirking quite often. It deals with some deeper themes in a lighthearted and entertaining way, which is a tough line to walk, but is done well here. It’s got just enough hyperbole and caricature that it mimics life in a way that shouldn’t make anyone feel altogether called out and adds a great bit of humor to what is otherwise a fairly “normal” story about people living their lives. However, it’s real enough, addresses enough difficult circumstances, primarily regarding mental health and being a mother, that there is real substance. It makes you think, at least a little, about times where you possibly reacted to things a little excessively (or know someone that acted that way against you), and causes you to maybe give a little sympathy and benefit of the doubt to the opposite party. And it shows that everyone, no matter how perfect their life may seem or how much denial they’ve buried themselves under, has a lot to deal with and, in most cases, is doing their best in handling it.

This quirky novel is a bit of a satire for the modern age and carries with it a comical but impactful message.

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

“Ond Eldr. Breathe Fire.”

I have likely never been as excited to be approved for an ARC as I was for this one. Not that that should come as a surprise, since it’s billed as a mix of Wonder Woman and Vikings, so pretty much fierce fighting females, which is directly up my alley. Plus, this also seemed like the unicorn of YA books: a fantasy standalone. I have a soft spot for those, for lots of personal reasons that I won’t get all into here (and don’t get me wrong, I love series too). And what a gorgeous cover and title! But anyways, without further ado, here’s my review for this savage debut.

Eelyn, like every Aska clansman, if raised a warrior from childhood, in preparation to fight in the ancient rivalry against the Riki clan. Pain and death are a normal part of her life, but everything changes when she sees her brother one the battlefield…fighting with the Riki, after she had watched him die 5 years earlier. Without giving too much detail (no spoilers), Eelyn ends up in her brother’s Riki village for the winter, struggling to come to terms with her brother’s betrayal and the breaking down of the barriers she always had between her own people and the Riki. When a ruthless clan attacks the village, the same clan that years ago took her own mother’s life, things kick into high gear. And Eelyn’s burgeoning relationships with her brother’s adoptive family, and particularly his ‘brother’ Fiske, she faces her greatest battle yet: attempting to unite the Aska and Riki or face distinction in the face of this new enemy.

These are so many things to love about this book. First, it’s ruthless. No punches are pulled in the gore and death that Eelyn sees every day (though rest assured, it is definitely not quite to a Game of Thrones level) and I appreciate that “reality” being fully acknowledged, within the boundaries of this storyline. The old school Nordic/Viking feeling is rock solid – I love it. In fact, I actually question, genre-wise, whether this is really a fantasy at all. I can see why it would be called that, it has that feel to it, but it is, in reality, more historical fiction than anything else. Not that that matters, really. I loved the atmosphere of the book either way – the bleak, cold and wild feel was written to perfection. And the thawing over time, of Eelyn’s heart, of the enmity between the clans, and even of the weather, with the emergence of spring on the other side of winter, is thematically solid and smoothly developed. To expand on that a little, the slow burn romance was the perfect style for this story, and was well executed – I really did ship Eelyn and Fiske.

As expected/hoped, I got my awesome lady power. It was everything I wanted. Plus, the added and unexpected bonus of great emotional allowance. In fact, I thought it was awesome how natural it was for all the women to be fighters...it's not like Eelyn was special because she could fight. And in turn that made her emotional development all the better. She was so fully developed: she was written to be strong, but also, when faced with her brothers “return from the dead” and the upheaval of things she’d believed her entire life, she was realistically upset and confused and angry and just generally super emotional. I SO appreciate this portrayal…that being strong and fierce does not mean that you are unemotional or coldhearted. Lovely. Plus, along with that, I felt that the emotional turmoil back and forth was written realistically; meaning I liked not just that it was present, but the way it was composed. Worth mentioning also, for me, is that I thought the themes of family and home, and what makes or defines that, as well as the difficulties in forgiveness, were nicely explored here. And finally, the standalone aspect: I think the author nailed it. First, it’s refreshing for this genre, and second, it is capably accomplished. I was left wanting a little more (always better leave us wanting more than to be overdo it), but with a fully realized and wrapped up ending – the perfect combination and a great emotional ride.

Now, for all that good, there was a little left slightly missing for me. It wasn’t much, and I cannot put my finger on it necessarily, but somewhere, the depth of feeling or development that would have made this a 5 star read just wasn’t there. However, I say that mostly as a cover my own ass sort of thing. I want to make sure it’s out there, that I’m not recommending this as one of my fav books of all time (because there was so much good to say that I think without this caveat my review would make it look like that). But that’s all it is, that feeling that some small spark was not fully there. Because otherwise, this is an upcoming release that you should keep your eye out for – a ferocious ride that I definitely recommend.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher, St. Martin’s Press and Wednesday Books, for sending me an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

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

I’ve never been particularly into politics – it just does not interest me. I mean don’t get me wrong, I have my opinions and morals and I vote according to them (and to that point – I vote consistently and informedly), but I have never been overly into the processes of bills becoming laws, campaigning, lobbying, etc. (And yes, I absolutely recognize my privilege in being able to say/live that.) But after the years I spent studying public health, I really made a connection I never had previously, about the pivotal role those processes take in increasing the health outcomes of and person or community in our country. And though it didn’t cause a full 180*, I became more invested than I had before, followed things more closely, spoke out more with friends/colleagues/acquaintances. And, currently being from NC (and, really, the US), I have had ample reason to need to speak up about some of the atrocious leaders/representatives we’ve had lately/currently. So when I saw this book offered for review on First to Read, saw that it addressed a massively underserved and marginalized population (a major focus of my public health training), would address and personalize a polarizing topic (particularly in my state) AND knowing that my favorite local bookstore (Flyleaf) would be hosting the author herself at the end of the month, I knew I had to request it. And having received my copy, which I finished reading just this morning, I cannot wait to see Sarah speak and recommend this book to everyone.

Sarah McBride was born and raised in Delaware, where she was passionate about and involved in politics from a very early age. She went to American University in DC for college, where she served as student body president for a year and was her home when she came out as transgender. She’d known she was woman since she was a child, but she was unsure about and afraid of acknowledging and sharing that part of her. It took her until she was a senior in college to feel comfortable coming out, living her entire life up to that point as someone other than who she really felt she was. Which is honestly just…impossible to even comprehend and heartbreaking to think about. Though she tells this story herself, and much better, the long and short of it is that, after coming out she finds a way (with much support from family and friends) to continue pursuing the dreams she had thought would be snuffed out by her admission. One of those goals was to have a career in politics, which she is achieving with flying colors it seems. And the other, to love and be loved for who she is (both in general and by a special someone) also, at least for the most part, was/is being fulfilled. But in a twist that seems almost unreal, her partner and eventually husband, a transgender man named Andy, was diagnosed with and succumbed to cancer. I mean, for someone only in their late 20s, she has lived more life, been through more, than most people who have lived to the full US average of 80 years old. It’s phenomenally inspiring.

This book starts with Sarah’s coming out note, with some flashbacks to her time growing up, and follows her life through the present day. In that way, it is definitively an autobiography or memoir type book. But it is also so much more than that. Sarah is able to provide a voice for a group of people that, for pretty much always, have been voiceless. And even worse than that, actively discriminated against and silenced. She’s able to voice for a community that until recently very limited people even knew about, since they spent their whole lives hiding/lying for their own safety. And before moving on, it’s important to just note how categorically heartbreaking that is. This book is not only a beautiful story about one person’s life, struggle for acceptance (personal and otherwise), and the highs and lows of both finding love and the grief in losing it. No, it is all that and more: a spectacular primer on the beauty of the transgender community, what it means to be transgender (and the associated vocabulary and concepts), and a short primer on the history/current events for transgender people in the United States. This is both an educational piece and a personal testament, providing the reader general background information while simultaneously putting a humanizing face on it. It’s something that absolutely everyone should read…and if not this book exactly, something like it from another representative of the community.

Some things that I loved were Sarah’s ability to both tell her story in a straightforward way that made it absolutely impossible to avoid/deny the unbelievable challenges faced by herself during her time before coming out, the stress of actually coming out, and the post-transition experiences. While she is honest and quick to point out all the support and positivity she had in her life, she also does not hold back in sharing the fear and discrimination as well. In addition, I greatly appreciated the way she worked hard to make sure the reader knows that her own experience, for all its overwhelming difficulty, is still nothing in comparison to what many face. She did have support of family and friends, she had a stable financial situation and access to many opportunities and resources that many people do not have. In fact, her ability to be a voice for the transgender community is, in fact, born from the privileges she has from where she grew up and the people she was able to meet along the way. Her descriptions of what often happens to transgender people across the country without the same support resources, or to certain groups just because of who they are specifically (for example, how much worse things are for the black transgender community) are eye-opening and very significant. Throughout everything she faces, even through the health crises and death of her husband, she never once forgets to say how much worse things could be. A line beautifully walked and admirable to the highest degree.

The one complaint I have is directly related to the writing itself. It was a bit juvenile, with basic and jumpy writing and transitions. There was nothing grammatically wrong, necessarily, it just seemed less polished than it could have been. And though the story and information are absolutely strong enough to overcome this weakness (in fact, for the last quarter-ish of the book, I found myself pretty constantly teary-eyed, from emotions both super uplifting and horribly heartbreaking), I feel like perhaps it could be even more striking if the writing was a bit smoother or the language a little more emotional in its own right… Regardless, as I mentioned, the emotion of the story itself broke through anyways, which, more than anything else I’ve said, truly speaks to its power.

Sarah McBride is an example of the perfect person in the right place at the right time to make a dramatic difference in our world. She had the exact combination of support, career interests, privilege, experiences and passions that could do great things. And all the credit to her for everything she’s been able to accomplish with what she’s been given. It’s not just anyone that could have taken those pieces and made them into what she has - her effort, heart, and pure bravery did that. And her positivity and continued hope for the future of our country, and what our upcoming generations and new leaders will be able to do (may I add, including herself), is encouraging. I truly recommend this book; pretty much everyone should read it (especially our nation’s, and state’s, leaders) – it’s compelling, motivational, informative and will absolutely want to make you do something. It’s a moving testament to the power of people, of individuality, of pride in who you are, and of what we can make happen if we only felt safe and accepted enough to try. Thank you, Sarah, for sharing your story.

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

“…just because something isn’t surprising doesn’t mean it’s easy to deal with.”

This one has been on my TBR for awhile now, and I jumped it to the top after it was one of the most recommended books on a “what to read next by diverse authors” bookstagram post (link) that I put up about a week ago. And thank you to all the voters – they were right, this was something special.

Binti is the first in her family, the first of her kind even, to be admitted to the great Oomza University. And though she has to run away, betraying the wishes of her family and the traditions of her people, in order to go, the call is too great for her to ignore. Although she is looked down on by most of her fellow travelers for her “tribal” customs, she is able to become friends with other students on their way to Uni…the power of mathematical curiosity bonding them and proving stronger than cultural differences. But during the weeks long journey from Earth to Oomza, the ship is attacked by Meduse, a feared alien race with plans to attack Oomza to retrieve an important stolen artifact. Binti knows that she is special, is meant for more, and she will have to use all her intelligence, resourcefulness and inner harmonization to bring about a peaceful solution.

This was really my first foray into novellas – longer than a short story but definitely not novel length. And I jumped in head first, reading the entire piece in a single sitting. Honestly, it probably took no longer than 90 minutes to read, but that 90 minutes was packed full of culture and creativity. I know this type of story will not be for everyone, as I can definitely understand those who be frustrated with only this small peek into this world that Okorafor has created. In fact, I too would love to read more about the different civilizations and philosophies that inhabit the planet of Oomza and its university, the scientific “magic” that Binti specializes in, and Binti herself, because I just know that her story is not over yet. But at the same time, I respect the scope of what Okorafor was able to build and communicate in such a limited time. And my wish for more does not diminish the enchantment of this small glimpse we are given. Each piece of information and interaction must be that much more finely crafted because the time for development and creation is so short and therefore each piece we are given means that much more. There is a finesse and skill there that cannot be denied and is its own type of mastery.

As for the story itself, it is a wonderful blend of lessons that we can, and should, apply to the real world. There are parallels, in violence, intolerance and one-sidedness, with so many situations that we face here on Earth today. The connections and commentary are unmissable. But it is not just a condemnation of the way things are…the answers for how to do/be better are there as well. There is a definite suggestion of hope and cooperation in the moral of the story.

Binti is a believable and relatable heroine, having left behind everything she knows for the hope of a greater future, she is completely unprepared to deal with the situation she ends up in. She has moments of self-doubt, overwhelming terror, succumbs to her own prejudices, but in the end is able to just barely pull herself together to work for something larger than herself. She is not a “chosen one” in any way, but a fish way out of water that finds herself in a near impossible situation and has no choice but to cope if she wants to survive.

Imaginative and fascinating, this is a short (and sweet) futuristic story of the power of communication and mutual respect in ending conflict.

“But stories are like people, Atticus. Loving them doesn’t make them perfect. You try to cherish their virtues and overlook their flaws. The flaws are still there, though.”

Ok, full disclosure. I had never heard of this book until last month. And even then I had essentially no idea what it was about except for something to do with horror writer H.P. Lovecraft (I am so not into horror, and not really pulp sci-fi either, and have never actually read anything by him) and racism. This was a book club choice and definitely way outside my awareness zone. Which, honestly, is part of the reason I like book clubs. In any case, before I started, I read up a little on the book and author. That mostly didn’t help me get any better hold on what the book was actually about. But it did give me some insight into the author – who apparently is a cult classic sort of writer (which made me even more nervous to read this – I’ve never really been into cult classic type stuff). After reading this, I totally get why...

Let me try to explain what this is about… The entire story takes place during Jim Crow in America – although the actual setting is up north (in and around Chicago and Boston), the sentiment is more or less the same, even if it wasn’t lawfully enforced. Atticus is a young black man, coming home after serving in Korea, after hearing his father (Montrose) has disappeared. His Uncle George and childhood friend Letitia accompany him on his journey to find his father. In the course of that adventure, they meet Caleb Braithwhite, a “natural philosopher” (a euphemism for magician if I’ve ever read one) who has some serious and intense long-term plans at taking over the Order of the Ancient Dawn, some kind of national natural philosopher society...plans that end up centered around Atticus, Letitia and their two families. As the book progresses, these family and friends become ever more embroiled in Caleb’s plots, fighting against magical “spells” and malevolent spirits, while simultaneously just trying to survive in white America. It’s ambitious as hell, but damned if Ruff doesn’t pull it off (pardon my language, but there’s truly no other way for me to express it).

Before I start, and as a caveat to this whole review, I’d like to point out again that I have never actually read anything by Lovecraft – just bear that in mind and know that there’s a lot I may have missed while reading and won’t know to mention. On the flipside, let me also say that my lack of experience therein did not, in any way, prevent this book from being completely absorbing. Here we go. This book was just plain bizarre. A strange, non-stop, twisting and turning adventure of the peculiar. The elements of the mystical and enchanted that were a thread throughout the novel were strong and consistent, but also creepy. I see the horror aspects, for sure, but it was never bad enough to keep me awake at night or anything like that (and I have a low tolerance for terror). I really appreciated that. And it was really cool how many different types of “magic,” were involved – mystical languages and spells, communicating with ghosts, parallel universes, other planets, blood and physical magics, and more. The breadth kept things intriguing and moving forwards.

“He wasn’t afraid for himself. He was afraid for me. He wanted to protect me. He had: He saved my life, getting me away from that gunfight. But the night wasn’t over and he knew he wasn’t going to be there to see me through it. That’s the horror, the most awful thing: to have a child the world wants to destroy and know that you’re helpless to help him. Nothing worse than that. Nothing worse.”

At the same time as all that was going on, the author really put a spotlight on the fear and terror of actual life racism in America. (Granted, and worth mentioning, he’s writing from a completely opposite #ownvoices place, as a white man, but it was such visceral writing that the representation seemed at least fair. In addition, as he mentions in his afterward, he went in with the goal of highlighting the disparity particular to black representation in sci-fi, which is a unique niche and was impressively well explored here, at least in my opinion.) In any case, this juxtaposition of themes was really masterfully crafted, the one serving to really underscore the other in distinctive way. I have a little bit of apprehension about this. I worry that perhaps the fact that this book is so weird, so unreal/unnatural, that the truth he describes regarding being black in America could potentially backfire – instead of calling attention to the problem as it still exists, it may cause people to associate it with the real of the unnatural, and therefore not happening in real life and not worth worrying about, events of this story. Maybe I’m thinking too hard about it? I don’t know about everyone else, but at least in my opinion, the two kinds of horror presented side by side here was absolutely striking.

In a slight change of focus, I want to mention that I loved the structure of this book. Each section was written as a sort of short story, a format commonly used by Lovecraft himself. Each family member’s introduction into Caleb’s plot, their individual “how I got involved” story, was told in a separate POV chapter. Sometimes there’d be cameos from other family members or details from other stories, and sometimes not. This vehicle for plot development allowed for easy transitions between types of mysticism and perspectives of racism that allowed for a lot of “world” expansion and depth. It was also very cool that they could mostly be read on their own and be full tales, but also worked together towards something greater: the last section, where all characters and details came together for the dénouement. It would be even more awesome if each of these sections/stories were a sort of homage to different Lovecraft stories, but alas, I cannot tell you if that true or not. It would just be a really splendid if it were true. No matter the case, the control of the story-telling and plot advancement is masterful.

“But for a long while they were laughing too hard to answer. […] ‘What is it you’re trying to scare me with? You think I don’t know what country I live in? I know. We all do. We always have. You’re the one who doesn’t understand.’”

This quote/moment at the end that just truly sums things up, that carries the weight of the message about the legacy of slavery and racism in the US that brings it to the forefront of the reader’s mind at the end in a way that is both snarky and heartbreaking, though the moment also carries some hope for freedom and the future (the perfect sentiment for the tone of this novel). The levels to that moment are ones that the whole book had been building to and, for me, really makes the final call, as far as what the “goal” of this book is.

This book is like the Donnie Darko or Pulp Fiction of literature (except with a greater message – like, vibes of Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad). And, in the same way I like, respect, and am entertained by those movies, I liked, respected and was entertained by this book. It took me a little bit to get into it, but I’ll be honest, once it happened, I was totally hooked. I do not at all regret reading it and, depending on the person, I would totally recommend it. However, for the record, I also have to say this is never going to be a book I head back to for a reread.

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

“…and even though it’s a laugh, it doesn’t sound like one. There’s no happiness in it, just dry air and hard red clay where the grass won’t grow.”

Winner of the National Book Award in 2017 and currently long-listed for the 2018 Women’s Prize for Fiction, among a multitude of other awards, and not a single negative review from my fellow bookstagrammers, this is one of those books that I just knew I had to read. So I bought the book, but it sat unread for months on my shelf (because life happens). When I saw it on the “popular books” audiobook display at the library right as I was going to need a new one, I took it as a sign and snatched it up.

Sing, Unburied, Sing is the story of a family in rural 21st century Mississippi, with echoes and memories of bygone years and generations. Told from three perspectives, we learn a lot about this family over what is, technically, only a few days. Jojo is 13 years old and struggling, but dealing with, his mother’s disinterest, his father’s absence, his grandmother Mam’s grave illness and his 2-year-old sister Kayla’s well-being. All the while Jojo is trying to follow and learn as much as he can, from stories of the past to day to day workings of the farm, from his grandfather, Pop. Leonie is Jojo’s mother, internally struggling with everyone’s expectations of her, including her own wishes to be a better mother, but consistent only in her inability to put those needs above her own (particularly her drug use). She has never gotten over her brother Given’s death (murder) years before and she too is struggling with how to handle her mother’s impending death. And last, we have Richie, the ghost of a young boy who died while an inmate at Parchman, the same prison at which Pop was incarcerated and where his father is currently serving time. When Leonie packs up Jojo and Kayla to go pick up their father as his sentence is ending, Richie “tags along” on the way home, where heartbreaking details about the connection between him and Pop emerge, throwing into sharp relief the ugly history of the American South.

This novel is less action based than it is illuminative. It’s a mix of an intimate family saga, ghost story, and a searing snapshot of the legacy of slavery and racism. Even though the events of the modern-day story take place over only a few days, we learn so much during that short time and from the memories of our characters. The portrait this novel paints of rural Southern life today is profound and affecting. Although years, decades, have passed since the time Pop spent time in Parchman with Richie, we see that though the form has perhaps partially changed, the reality of racism in the South is the same. Pop’s stories to Jojo, Leonie’s memories, and Richie’s emotional pain, all work together to give a sweeping elucidation to an often ignored, aspect of the American experience. Both within and outside of racial contexts, issues of grief and loss, interracial couples/families (and generational intolerance therein), the presence and use of drugs, “untraditional” and imperfect family structures and relations, fear-laced interactions with law enforcement, and the general tension of race and limited income/family resources are all adroitly and palpably illustrated. In addition, there is an entire spiritual and connectedness aspect of the book that has tendrils throughout, but really comes into its own at the end. Mam and Pop each have their own connections to the earth and the spirits, but it’s not something that Leonie was ever interested in or showed affinity for, except for visions of her brother Given when she is high. But Jojo and Kayla seem to have inherited the ability. When Richie makes himself known to Jojo and Mam is in her final days on earth, the ghosts and spirits of the past, including Given, descend upon the family, both giving closure and opening old wounds in equal measure.

As far as the writing, Ward’s ability to show these inequities and stressors, to make the reader truly feel them, without directly spelling anything out, is unparalleled in anything I’ve read before. The language is evocative and lyrical, caressing your ears and washing over your brain with matchless grace. To be honest, it’s some of the most lovely, expressive writing I’ve ever read. And as I mentioned, I did listen to this as an audiobook. To that end I know listening and physical reading books are two different experiences, at least for me, but to be honest this turned out to be a great one to listen to. The narrators (there was a different one for each POV) were absolutely phenomenal – their tones and cadences perfect for this poetic style of writing – and really brought the book to life, allowing me to truly fall into the story, in a way that I don’t think I would have just from reading.

This novel tells the story of a part of America that many people would like to pretend doesn’t exist, isn’t happening, or is a relic of the past. And that’s why it’s so important that as many people as possible read and recognize and share its message. It’s very hard to read at times, it hurt my heart in more ways than I can list (not least of which because for all that it ends with a message of hope, there is not near enough being done to make that hope turn into a reality). There are difficult themes, characters that may be hard to understand or sympathize with, perspectives that you may take issue with. But again, that’s why it’s such an important book. It’s a picture of reality, and will continue to be so, until real support is given to truly affect the circumstances, the environment. Only then will change be possible.

I looked and looked for some quotes to give you that would sort of encapsulate the beauty and lyricism of the language Ward uses, but it’s just not possible. I mean yes, there are many gorgeous passages, but every time I tried to write them here I have trouble deciding where to start and end them. Every time I thought I had a cutting spot, I realized that there was more on either side that I just didn’t want to leave out. And I realized that’s just part of the beauty of this novel, and it has to all be taken together in order to really give the full effect. I don’t want to lessen or cheapen the impact by chopping it up. So instead, I’ll reiterate the exquisiteness of the writing and urge you to read for yourself. And in the meantime, I pulled out a few short quotes that help illustrate that, wrapped up amidst all the longer magnificence of her words, there are also many hard, important, truths:

“Sometimes the world don’t give you what you need, no matter how hard you look. Sometimes it withholds.”

“Sorrow is food swallowed too quickly, caught in the throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe.”

“Ain't no good in using anger just to lash. You pray for it to blow up a storm that's going to flush out the truth.”

“It’s like a snake that sheds its skin. The outside look different when the scales change, but the inside always the same.”

This book was heartbreaking. As a public health student, you hear a lot about "disparities" in the system...so much so that, in fact, they start to lose meaning. But this book, this book really brought home what that meant. And not just in the main story, which was heartrending enough - a violent rape, attempted murder and an actual murder - but the side plots along with it and how each person is affected by and responds to these events. And nowhere throughout the whole book is there even mention of psychological help - it's all a focus on how even getting legal justice is impossible. And you see how that effects the family in question, how the narrator gets to the point where he makes his fateful decision, and the consequences for everyone from that. How many times can this community be let down? Looking at the low income on the reservation, the lack of resources for the Natives there combined with the way they are treated when trying to use off reservation options, the lack of respect for their culture and religion, the inability to defend themselves through the justice system, how little hope there is for the children and future generations, as they keep getting overlooked and bad decisions are built on previous bad decisions. And, through it all, a lack of caring from everyone outside the reservation - from the federal government to the local government to anyone living around the reservation and beyond. So, I think, there is your answer - there is no limit to how many times our country let's this family, and their people, down. This books really brings home a personal note to these many issues. Issues that should be much more prominent in all our minds and on all agendas. A whole population overlooked by our country and no one knows and no one is aware. That, almost more that the story itself, is what breaks the reader's heart. This book is fiction, but the question is, is it really?

This book was super impressive. I enjoyed the mix of a Jane Austen like writing style (a bit satire-like in its social commentary but in a light, amusing way) and a magical journey similar in depth of development to a Tolekin or Martin. Nothing quite as expansive of course, but a wonderful retelling of a part of British history with a magical twist. Perhaps very reminiscent of The Magicians by Grossman (or the other way around, I don't know which was published first). I also did enjoy the way she used/described magic and the effort she put into the small details, like the footnotes telling all sorts of "historical" magic anecdotes. A very impressive story in which the many facets came together beautifully and the way they were adressed theroughout the book hept me from getting too "tired" with any one aspect or set of characters. I really enjoyed this book and while it was extensive, it was totally worth the time.

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

“To the men the earth, to the women the sky, as God willed it.”

The description of this book sounded right up my alley. A mix of magic, history, science and more with a whole flipped gender role aspect. I mean seriously, sign me up! And though it took me much longer than I had originally anticipated or hoped to get around to reading it, I was right. (Congratulations to me for knowing my own reading preferences by now, I guess. Haha.) This was nothing if not thoroughly entertaining, fascinating and wildly imaginative.

Robert Weekes is a male sigilrist, a branch of empirical philosophy that is dominated by woman practitioners. He dreams of being the first male member of the elite US Sigilry Core Rescue and Evacuation Service, but no man has the skills for that…so he is stuck spending his time assisting his mother in her local service position in rural Montana. However, after he is (finally) about to showcase some of his abilities in an emergency situation, he earns a scholarship seat at the all-female Radcliffe College. While there, Robert faces all sorts of discrimination, makes some lifelong friends, falls in love with a young war hero turned activist and works harder than anyone in the school to try and achieve his Rescue and Evac dreams, all while drawing the ire of female philosophical traditionalists and a fanatic group of anti-philosophers.

This is, without a doubt, one of the most well developed alternate history novels I have ever read. When I originally looked at the description of the novel, I thought it might ring similar to Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, which is another sweeping magical historical reimagining. And while I did enjoy that book, I liked this one so much better! It’s pacing is considerably faster and everything just feels much more high stakes. If I had to compare the two, I’d say Strange and Norrell is sort of a slow-sip neat pour of a strong whiskey, while Philosopher’s Flight is more of a whiskey sour. Anyways, back on track, this book was absolutely impressive in it’s creative scope. It’s a bit like steampunk, with it’s addition of technologies and customs to a time period that was, in reality, much more primitive, but with a more scientific than technological bend to the additions. The weaving of philosophical “magic” into all aspects of life, from transportation to politics to religious zeal to war was seamless and comprehensive. And the little passages/quotes from “history” books that started each chapter, retelling parts of the past with philosophical supplements, were a fun way to add even more depth to that world development. Also, the detail included in everything philosophical was mind-boggling, like the specifics of flying (or hovering), sigil drawing methods and theory, the medical uses, the “secret” university societies around it, the societal norms around it, and the serious vs sport type uses of it. Honestly, I cannot even begin to guess how long it took the author to map out and think through all the details, but you can tell how much went into it by how effortlessly the history and plot unfold.

As far as the characters, I definitely got into their stories. There were a lot of them, and their backgrounds and personalities were all just as fleshed out as the world-building, so it took some time to get a handle on it all after meeting them. But I didn’t mind the effort because it all just seemed so real that it was worth doing. I cannot say that there were any serious character development moments, and to that extent this was definitely a setting and plot driven novel, but I don’t think that was a particular problem for me. We really only spend about a year with of them, and they are all university age or adult already, so much of their major changes are already complete. This is really just a chance to live in and experience a fantastic “new” world with a great set of already formed characters. But despite that more or less static character development arc, that plot that drives the story is worth reading. Things start up fast and serious, though they slow down a little once Robert gets to Radcliffe and he is forming new friendships. I respect the need for this change in pace in the middle, but I did have to skim just a little through some of it so it didn’t drag too long (particularly regarding some of the particularly in depth about sigil theory and flying techniques). And the last third or so is just great – the pace picks up, the action stays constant, and by the end I couldn’t read fast enough.

I loved the upending of social norms and gender roles as they were in the 20th century. This kind of flipped story is something I love (which is why The Power was one of my absolute favorite recent reads) and it’s creatively and intuitively done here. There are many moments of small discomfort as Robert challenges these roles that are incredibly poignant and recognizable. And when arguments against his participation in certain aspects of life and philosophy strike the reader as absolutely ridiculous, it’s provides a stark and ideal opportunity to examine the gender role prejudices we have today. That’s what good writing can do – and I am so grateful for it.

This is a phenomenal mix of history, social commentary, political intrigue, and some budding romance, all with a great side of magic. It has a little something for everyone and is incredibly well written. A very, very impressive debut.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher, Simon and Schuster, for sending me an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

"I lifted my eyes to his again and found stars and darkness waiting. Found home waiting."

I'm not going to do a "real" review for this, because it's not really a book that needs/deserves that. This novella was written as a bridge between the first three books in the ACOTAR series and the ones that are to come. It's giving us, as readers, one last chance to see the world of Prythian, the Night Court, through Rhys and Feyre's eyes. And it's setting up the books to come, giving us chapters from far more perspectives than we have ever gotten before (like Mor, Cassian, a little Nesta, etc.), and giving some background/baseline for upcoming complications (like the security between human and Fae lands now that the wall is gone, unsettled Illyrian camps, encroachment from members of the Hewn City in Velaris - plans from Kier and Eris, the state of old enemies - Tamlin, and whatever the heck is going on with Jurian and the cursed human queen Vassa).

Other than that, it's just a very sweet story about our beloved Night Court family rebuilding after the events at the end of ACOWAR celebrating the Winter Solstice together. All the banter and play that we all love is there, and Feyre and Rhys continue to be everything good in the world. This is not a deep or particularly action-packed novella, but it is everything we were promised and if that's what you go in expecting, you'll enjoy the experience.

Honestly, for me, reading this was like coming home. I love every single one of these characters and though I am excited to see where things go next, I won't lie, I'm totally in mourning after finishing (Nesta and Elain totally do not interest me in the same way that Feyre, Rhys and the others do, so here's to hoping their roles are not too small in the next installments). My heart is super full of bittersweet right now, but I wouldn't trade it for anything (except maybe more Feysand, haha).