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This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
This book fairly burst onto the scene recently. And I have to be honest and say that I was not originally that interested in reading it. I had seen comparisons to The Glass Castle, which I had read and enjoyed year ago, but just was not in the mood for. I figured I’d hold onto it in the back of my mind and wait til I was ready…and not be too worried if I never got there. But it seriously kept popping up. It seemed like literally everyone was reading it and loving it and every single review talked about how mid-blowing the story was, how no one could put it down. I confess, my curiosity got the better of me. I added myself to the library waitlist for the audiobook (my preferred method of “reading” nonfiction) and had it in my hands a couple weeks later. And seriously, holy mouth hanging open, Batman, this book was everything everyone was saying and more. Even if you are like me, if you aren’t sure you want to read it now (or ever), ignore all that and give it a go.
“The decisions I made after that moment were not the ones she would have made. They were the choices of a changed person, a new self. You could call this selfhood many things. Transformation. Metamorphosis. Falsity. Betrayal. I call it an education.”
I finished this over a week ago, but it’s taken me that long to work up the gumption to write this review. It’s never taken me that long before. I don’t even think I’ve really pulled it together enough yet, internally, but I’m starting to be nervous that I’ll leave something down if I don’t get my feelings out soon. This is nonfiction. It’s the author’s true story about her life and upbringing. But wow, is it the type of nonfiction that makes you say out loud “that cannot possibly be real.” Basically, her parents are Mormons, strict ones. Her father is (we learn as the story unfolds) probably bipolar, causing him to be paranoid, have delusions of conspiracy, and be a sort of doomsday prepper. Her family lived (lives) on a mountaintop in rural Idaho, fairly removed from community and modernity, and she never attended any sort of organized school. That is, not until an older brother (of which there are many) convinces her to study for the ACT and she gets into BYU. That’s right, college classes at BYU as a 17-year-old are her first time in classroom schooling, and really her first experience with any sort of broad range worldview awareness. As she moves through her education, from BYU to Cambridge to Harvard and beyond, we readers watch both her journey of personal growth and discovery and her struggle to compromise her new knowledge/self with her family and old life. The stress of that separation is visceral as Tara recounts her tale…and the conflict of education versus tradition, in her own life and in a larger sense, becomes the focal point of her development.
I’m not really sure that I have the words to tell you how jaw-droppingly shocking the majority of this book it. Seriously, I must have gasped and clapped my hand over my mouth probably 15 different times, for 15 different reasons, while listening. The story of Tara’s life is, in the literal sense, unbelievable. And, though at times I felt almost guilty about this reaction (because this is seriously her life, her family’s life, this is not a fictional story!), it had that “I cannot look away from this train wreck” page-turning quality. From her family’s insistence on not visiting doctors/using modern medicine (even in some of the most horrifying circumstances) to some of the insanely unsafe junkyard/construction practices her father used to the world events Tara had no idea about when starting college (things like The Holocaust) it was, truly, incredible. Then there were other things, like how big her mother got in the essential oil/chakra healing industry or Tara’s singing/acting “career” as a child or the small things she wasn’t prepared for in the “real world” (like needing a blue book for college exams – though honestly, I didn’t know about that either before my first exam, when do they actually tell you about those?), that were fascinating in completely different ways. Perhaps not as horrible or shocking, but still bordering on the unreal.
And then there is the biggest, most difficult storyline, the one running through the entire memoir, of Tara’s struggle to become who she is today. She dealt with so much shaming, physical and emotional trauma, and more at the hands of her family (primarily her father and one brother in particular) that caused her to completely shut down, to disassociate, to remove herself, a number of times. The psychological strain she was under from these abuses was immense, but she had no choice but to find ways to deal with all that alone…and even after she “left” her family, these claws were still in her and she still felt that she was on her own in dealing with it. Her lack of trust and general embarrassment about her past and her experiences was heartbreaking. And, though many of her specific situations are individual to her, in this particular sense her story is not unique (and to that end, I do want to include a trigger warning for physical and emotional abuse to anyone reading this).
However, through it all, Tara continues to push at the boundaries of the life she was born and raised in. With support first from a brother, intermittently (and inconsistently) from other family members, and later from various professors and mentors, she takes step after step to become what she calls, in the end, “educated.” Her objectiveness in writing this story, her own story, is amazing. Although she tells things like they were, pulling no punches about either the situations or (as she sees it looking back – these evaluations of her own behavior/actions were one of my favorite parts) her reactions to them, she does it all with a lens of clarity that is beyond admirable. It is so clear from her writing how much her family means to her, how much she loves them, and how much she wants more than anything to give them the benefit of the doubt and portray them in as positive a light as she can (and her guilt when she cannot). And you can clearly see how much harder that gets as her story progresses and she learns more, both as far as general knowledge and self-actualization, but she never stops trying. It’s possibly one of the most real and heartrending aspects of this book.
I know, looking back, that my feelings and reactions while reading are not even close to fully captured. This is just one of those improbable tales of courage, persistence, support that is as inspiring as it is unlikely. But it’s also completely authentic – there or no rose-tinted glasses or preposterous accusations here – this is just a plain old “telling it like it was” story of an anything but plain old story. Seriously, this went beyond my expectations in so many ways and I absolutely recommend it.
This is yet another one with so many quotes highlighted that choosing which ones to share was nigh on impossible:
“I would never again allow myself to be made a foot soldier in a conflict I didn’t understand.”
“Not knowing for certain, but refusing to give way to those who claim certainty, was a privilege I had never allowed myself. My life was narrated for me by others. Their voices were forceful, emphatic, absolute. It had never occurred to me that my voice might be as strong as theirs.”
“First find out what you are capable of, then decide who you are.”
“Choices, numberless as grains of sand, had layered and compressed, coalescing into sediment, then into rock, until all was set in stone.”
“The past was a ghost, insubstantial, unaffecting. Only the future had weight.”
“You can love someone and still choose to say goodbye to them,” she says now. “You can miss a person every day, and still be glad that they are no longer in your life.”
“Everything I had worked for, all my years of study, had been to purchase for myself this one privilege: to see and experience more truths than those given to me by my father, and to use those truths to construct my own mind. I had come to believe that the ability to evaluate many ideas, many histories, many points of view, was at the heart of what it means to self-create. If I yielded now, I would lose more than an argument. I would lose custody of my own mind. This was the price I was being asked to pay, I understood that now. What my father wanted to cast from me wasn’t a demon: it was me.”
“But vindication has no power over guilt. No amount of anger or rage directed at others can subdue it, because guilt is never about them. Guilt is the fear of one’s own wretchedness. It has nothing to do with other people.”
“I had decided to study not history, but historians. I suppose my interest came from the sense of groundlessness I'd felt since learning about the Holocaust and the civil rights movement--since realizing that what a person knows about the past is limited, and will always be limited, to what they are told by others. I knew what it was to have a misconception corrected--a misconception of such magnitude that shifting it shifted the world. Now I needed to understand how the great gatekeepers of history had come to terms with their own ignorance and partiality. I thought if I could accept that what they had written was not absolute but was the result of a biased process of conversation and revision, maybe I could reconcile myself with the fact that the history most people agreed upon was not the history I had been taught.”
This book fairly burst onto the scene recently. And I have to be honest and say that I was not originally that interested in reading it. I had seen comparisons to The Glass Castle, which I had read and enjoyed year ago, but just was not in the mood for. I figured I’d hold onto it in the back of my mind and wait til I was ready…and not be too worried if I never got there. But it seriously kept popping up. It seemed like literally everyone was reading it and loving it and every single review talked about how mid-blowing the story was, how no one could put it down. I confess, my curiosity got the better of me. I added myself to the library waitlist for the audiobook (my preferred method of “reading” nonfiction) and had it in my hands a couple weeks later. And seriously, holy mouth hanging open, Batman, this book was everything everyone was saying and more. Even if you are like me, if you aren’t sure you want to read it now (or ever), ignore all that and give it a go.
“The decisions I made after that moment were not the ones she would have made. They were the choices of a changed person, a new self. You could call this selfhood many things. Transformation. Metamorphosis. Falsity. Betrayal. I call it an education.”
I finished this over a week ago, but it’s taken me that long to work up the gumption to write this review. It’s never taken me that long before. I don’t even think I’ve really pulled it together enough yet, internally, but I’m starting to be nervous that I’ll leave something down if I don’t get my feelings out soon. This is nonfiction. It’s the author’s true story about her life and upbringing. But wow, is it the type of nonfiction that makes you say out loud “that cannot possibly be real.” Basically, her parents are Mormons, strict ones. Her father is (we learn as the story unfolds) probably bipolar, causing him to be paranoid, have delusions of conspiracy, and be a sort of doomsday prepper. Her family lived (lives) on a mountaintop in rural Idaho, fairly removed from community and modernity, and she never attended any sort of organized school. That is, not until an older brother (of which there are many) convinces her to study for the ACT and she gets into BYU. That’s right, college classes at BYU as a 17-year-old are her first time in classroom schooling, and really her first experience with any sort of broad range worldview awareness. As she moves through her education, from BYU to Cambridge to Harvard and beyond, we readers watch both her journey of personal growth and discovery and her struggle to compromise her new knowledge/self with her family and old life. The stress of that separation is visceral as Tara recounts her tale…and the conflict of education versus tradition, in her own life and in a larger sense, becomes the focal point of her development.
I’m not really sure that I have the words to tell you how jaw-droppingly shocking the majority of this book it. Seriously, I must have gasped and clapped my hand over my mouth probably 15 different times, for 15 different reasons, while listening. The story of Tara’s life is, in the literal sense, unbelievable. And, though at times I felt almost guilty about this reaction (because this is seriously her life, her family’s life, this is not a fictional story!), it had that “I cannot look away from this train wreck” page-turning quality. From her family’s insistence on not visiting doctors/using modern medicine (even in some of the most horrifying circumstances) to some of the insanely unsafe junkyard/construction practices her father used to the world events Tara had no idea about when starting college (things like The Holocaust) it was, truly, incredible. Then there were other things, like how big her mother got in the essential oil/chakra healing industry or Tara’s singing/acting “career” as a child or the small things she wasn’t prepared for in the “real world” (like needing a blue book for college exams – though honestly, I didn’t know about that either before my first exam, when do they actually tell you about those?), that were fascinating in completely different ways. Perhaps not as horrible or shocking, but still bordering on the unreal.
And then there is the biggest, most difficult storyline, the one running through the entire memoir, of Tara’s struggle to become who she is today. She dealt with so much shaming, physical and emotional trauma, and more at the hands of her family (primarily her father and one brother in particular) that caused her to completely shut down, to disassociate, to remove herself, a number of times. The psychological strain she was under from these abuses was immense, but she had no choice but to find ways to deal with all that alone…and even after she “left” her family, these claws were still in her and she still felt that she was on her own in dealing with it. Her lack of trust and general embarrassment about her past and her experiences was heartbreaking. And, though many of her specific situations are individual to her, in this particular sense her story is not unique (and to that end, I do want to include a trigger warning for physical and emotional abuse to anyone reading this).
However, through it all, Tara continues to push at the boundaries of the life she was born and raised in. With support first from a brother, intermittently (and inconsistently) from other family members, and later from various professors and mentors, she takes step after step to become what she calls, in the end, “educated.” Her objectiveness in writing this story, her own story, is amazing. Although she tells things like they were, pulling no punches about either the situations or (as she sees it looking back – these evaluations of her own behavior/actions were one of my favorite parts) her reactions to them, she does it all with a lens of clarity that is beyond admirable. It is so clear from her writing how much her family means to her, how much she loves them, and how much she wants more than anything to give them the benefit of the doubt and portray them in as positive a light as she can (and her guilt when she cannot). And you can clearly see how much harder that gets as her story progresses and she learns more, both as far as general knowledge and self-actualization, but she never stops trying. It’s possibly one of the most real and heartrending aspects of this book.
I know, looking back, that my feelings and reactions while reading are not even close to fully captured. This is just one of those improbable tales of courage, persistence, support that is as inspiring as it is unlikely. But it’s also completely authentic – there or no rose-tinted glasses or preposterous accusations here – this is just a plain old “telling it like it was” story of an anything but plain old story. Seriously, this went beyond my expectations in so many ways and I absolutely recommend it.
This is yet another one with so many quotes highlighted that choosing which ones to share was nigh on impossible:
“I would never again allow myself to be made a foot soldier in a conflict I didn’t understand.”
“Not knowing for certain, but refusing to give way to those who claim certainty, was a privilege I had never allowed myself. My life was narrated for me by others. Their voices were forceful, emphatic, absolute. It had never occurred to me that my voice might be as strong as theirs.”
“First find out what you are capable of, then decide who you are.”
“Choices, numberless as grains of sand, had layered and compressed, coalescing into sediment, then into rock, until all was set in stone.”
“The past was a ghost, insubstantial, unaffecting. Only the future had weight.”
“You can love someone and still choose to say goodbye to them,” she says now. “You can miss a person every day, and still be glad that they are no longer in your life.”
“Everything I had worked for, all my years of study, had been to purchase for myself this one privilege: to see and experience more truths than those given to me by my father, and to use those truths to construct my own mind. I had come to believe that the ability to evaluate many ideas, many histories, many points of view, was at the heart of what it means to self-create. If I yielded now, I would lose more than an argument. I would lose custody of my own mind. This was the price I was being asked to pay, I understood that now. What my father wanted to cast from me wasn’t a demon: it was me.”
“But vindication has no power over guilt. No amount of anger or rage directed at others can subdue it, because guilt is never about them. Guilt is the fear of one’s own wretchedness. It has nothing to do with other people.”
“I had decided to study not history, but historians. I suppose my interest came from the sense of groundlessness I'd felt since learning about the Holocaust and the civil rights movement--since realizing that what a person knows about the past is limited, and will always be limited, to what they are told by others. I knew what it was to have a misconception corrected--a misconception of such magnitude that shifting it shifted the world. Now I needed to understand how the great gatekeepers of history had come to terms with their own ignorance and partiality. I thought if I could accept that what they had written was not absolute but was the result of a biased process of conversation and revision, maybe I could reconcile myself with the fact that the history most people agreed upon was not the history I had been taught.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures – flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment’s carelessness. If I had ever believed it, I no longer did.”
*Thanks to Goodreads and the publisher, I won an ARC copy in a giveaway! This does not affect the honesty of my review in any way.*
Don’t be mad at me (cause trust me, as a reader I feel bad enough about this as it is), but I don’t think I’ve ever actually read The Odyssey. *GASP* However, I do of course know the story. And I love mythology. And feminism. And Madeline Miller (I think I, like everyone else with a heart who read it, loved her first novel, The Song of Achilles – it put such a humanizing face on one of history/mythology’s greatest heroes). Anyways, the point is, since I love all those things, when I saw her next book would be about Circe, who was really just a cameo in Odysseus’ greater story, I was pretty much, immediately, all in.
Circe is a daughter of the sun god and Titan Helios, immortal, but without power or companions. She grows up mostly alone, crouching and hiding and generally in the shadows (if you will). But as she gets older, she discovers something about herself, that she does a certain type of power – witchcraft. A power that scares even the gods, Zeus banishes her to the deserted island of Aiaia. And it is here that she really begins to discover herself, honing her craft, taming wild animals, and crossing paths with many of the famous names in mythology from Daedalus to the Minotaur to Scylla to Athena and, of course, Odysseus. She draws the wrath of many, throughout her journey, and in the end must make some difficult choices about the world she comes from and the one to which she has come to belong.
This is, perhaps, one of my favorite books of all time. It’s a book to savor and read slowly, rich and full of vivid characters and descriptions, I absolutely did not want it to end. In fact, I slowed down my reading the closer I got to finishing, and by the end I was only letting myself read one chapter per night before bed. It was that good. Miller brings to life a woman whose story has hitherto been a footnote in others’ tales and gives her a voice and a purpose and a legend all her own. And she does it with such precise and gorgeously crafted prose. The characterizations are complex and flawless, the descriptions are beyond lush and the story itself is full of all the bloodshed, power struggle, and adventure you could want (welcome to mythology). Each word and line and action and detail feels as though it was individually chosen to be the perfect one for that moment. I can see why it was seven years between the publication of The Song of Achilles and this novel…to be honest, I’m in awe that it only took that long to create such a vibrant, captivating account of such a life, a place, a time.
I also just love how quietly feminist this book was. Nothing was ever explicit or in your face (nor is it perfect/absolute, but in life, what is?), but over the years, Circe has a chance to experience life and experiment with it in a way that is (outside of the fact of her exile which, I grant you, is a large caveat) completely under her own power. She is able to spend time on what means the most to her, use her time and space to find what truly matters to her, react to her circumstances (the good and the bad, even when she had no control over being in them in the first place) in the ways she feels appropriate, choose who/what/when to love, defy gods and man to protect that which she loves, come to terms with her own past and darkness, and, in the end, uses all that to wield the final power to choose her own fate. She experiences (and causes) some terrible things, true, but some great ones too. One moment at a time, she learns how to twist her own skills and advantages into the power she needs to control her own fate. Each tool or piece of knowledge that she gains, she uses, when the time comes, to make her biggest and most important decision – completely on her own terms. In the world of mythology, especially for women but really for everyone, this is almost unheard of and it made me want to cheer out loud for her awesome woman-strength.
Miller uses her own kind of witchcraft in telling this story – her may be words and will instead of herbs and will like Circe, but the magical, mystical, mesmerizing outcome is the same. I was completely transported while reading this and I can honestly say that I do not remember the last time I was so entranced by a novel. This is a masterpiece.
“I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open.”
“That was the moment I lived for, when it all came clear at last and the spell could sing with its pure note, for me and me alone.”
“Whatever you do, I wanted to say, do not be too happy. It will bring down fire on your head. I said nothing, and let her dance.”
“We bear it as best we can.”
“But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation he was to me.”
“He showed me his scars, and in return let me pretend that I had none.”
“I have a better idea. I will do as I please…” (This is our culmination of the years – yassss girl!)
“It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures – flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment’s carelessness. If I had ever believed it, I no longer did.”
*Thanks to Goodreads and the publisher, I won an ARC copy in a giveaway! This does not affect the honesty of my review in any way.*
Don’t be mad at me (cause trust me, as a reader I feel bad enough about this as it is), but I don’t think I’ve ever actually read The Odyssey. *GASP* However, I do of course know the story. And I love mythology. And feminism. And Madeline Miller (I think I, like everyone else with a heart who read it, loved her first novel, The Song of Achilles – it put such a humanizing face on one of history/mythology’s greatest heroes). Anyways, the point is, since I love all those things, when I saw her next book would be about Circe, who was really just a cameo in Odysseus’ greater story, I was pretty much, immediately, all in.
Circe is a daughter of the sun god and Titan Helios, immortal, but without power or companions. She grows up mostly alone, crouching and hiding and generally in the shadows (if you will). But as she gets older, she discovers something about herself, that she does a certain type of power – witchcraft. A power that scares even the gods, Zeus banishes her to the deserted island of Aiaia. And it is here that she really begins to discover herself, honing her craft, taming wild animals, and crossing paths with many of the famous names in mythology from Daedalus to the Minotaur to Scylla to Athena and, of course, Odysseus. She draws the wrath of many, throughout her journey, and in the end must make some difficult choices about the world she comes from and the one to which she has come to belong.
This is, perhaps, one of my favorite books of all time. It’s a book to savor and read slowly, rich and full of vivid characters and descriptions, I absolutely did not want it to end. In fact, I slowed down my reading the closer I got to finishing, and by the end I was only letting myself read one chapter per night before bed. It was that good. Miller brings to life a woman whose story has hitherto been a footnote in others’ tales and gives her a voice and a purpose and a legend all her own. And she does it with such precise and gorgeously crafted prose. The characterizations are complex and flawless, the descriptions are beyond lush and the story itself is full of all the bloodshed, power struggle, and adventure you could want (welcome to mythology). Each word and line and action and detail feels as though it was individually chosen to be the perfect one for that moment. I can see why it was seven years between the publication of The Song of Achilles and this novel…to be honest, I’m in awe that it only took that long to create such a vibrant, captivating account of such a life, a place, a time.
I also just love how quietly feminist this book was. Nothing was ever explicit or in your face (nor is it perfect/absolute, but in life, what is?), but over the years, Circe has a chance to experience life and experiment with it in a way that is (outside of the fact of her exile which, I grant you, is a large caveat) completely under her own power. She is able to spend time on what means the most to her, use her time and space to find what truly matters to her, react to her circumstances (the good and the bad, even when she had no control over being in them in the first place) in the ways she feels appropriate, choose who/what/when to love, defy gods and man to protect that which she loves, come to terms with her own past and darkness, and, in the end, uses all that to wield the final power to choose her own fate. She experiences (and causes) some terrible things, true, but some great ones too. One moment at a time, she learns how to twist her own skills and advantages into the power she needs to control her own fate. Each tool or piece of knowledge that she gains, she uses, when the time comes, to make her biggest and most important decision – completely on her own terms. In the world of mythology, especially for women but really for everyone, this is almost unheard of and it made me want to cheer out loud for her awesome woman-strength.
Miller uses her own kind of witchcraft in telling this story – her may be words and will instead of herbs and will like Circe, but the magical, mystical, mesmerizing outcome is the same. I was completely transported while reading this and I can honestly say that I do not remember the last time I was so entranced by a novel. This is a masterpiece.
“I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open.”
“That was the moment I lived for, when it all came clear at last and the spell could sing with its pure note, for me and me alone.”
“Whatever you do, I wanted to say, do not be too happy. It will bring down fire on your head. I said nothing, and let her dance.”
“We bear it as best we can.”
“But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation he was to me.”
“He showed me his scars, and in return let me pretend that I had none.”
“I have a better idea. I will do as I please…” (This is our culmination of the years – yassss girl!)
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
After reading Love and Other Words a few months ago, I was really feeling another contemporary romance. I sometimes get in genre moods and this one hit hard. I think it might be the summer weather. In any case, I saw this one came highly recommended from someone whose reviews I super trust (Christine, IG - @readingismagical) and that lots of people were giving it really high ratings for steaminess. Pretty much a no brainer…and boy did it deliver.
The Kiss Quotient is about Stella Lane, mid-twenties, on the autism spectrum, super financially successful as an econometrics analyst, and looking for someone to help her practice with relationships and sex. Enter Michael Phan, a male escort hired by Stella to assist her in her educational journey. He’s super attractive and talented (no spoilers!), but struggles with self-esteem due to a less than supportive father figure and under financial stress trying to make ends meet supporting his mother.
What a completely unique story this is, with its protagonist on the autism spectrum and a flipped script successful female meets/saves struggling male story line. And I liked it even more after I read the author’s afterwards and realized that both those aspects were done personally and on purpose. Hoang herself was diagnosed on the spectrum as an adult, after a self-realization that perhaps not all of her quirks were totally “normal” but that she also was definitively not alone in them the way she had always assumed she was. This story is, at least in part, based on personal experiences and that underrepresented perspective is wonderfully portrayed here. Also, she said she had been wanting to write a reverse Pretty Woman story for awhile and it just fell into place for her after her diagnosis. I mean, what is not to love there?!
Other than the sex scenes (and people did not lie, they really do start right away!), which were definitely enjoyable to read (no lies in this review – they got me excited), the details of this story are what really make it special. Seeing the way that Stella does everything she can to blend in and succeeds to the point that she sort of loses herself in the process, juxtaposed with Michael’s own low self-regard and sacrifice, is just so touching. They are the types of characters that are so real, that you warm up to so quickly, that you just cannot help but get sucked into their story and cheer for their “fairy tale” ending. Each is so genuine and unique – it’s almost too much that they are able to find someone so perfect and deserving of their love. Almost.
Honestly, this is just the perfect mix of sweet and sexy. I literally could not put it down and finished it in less than 24 hours. If you are looking for something to make your heart pound, with a seamless (pun intended – read the book and you’ll get it!) and tender love story, and tons of steaminess and sensuality, then this is the book for you. And even if you aren’t looking for that specifically, I still recommend it. I just loved this book - it was such as a refreshing summertime contemporary romance!
After reading Love and Other Words a few months ago, I was really feeling another contemporary romance. I sometimes get in genre moods and this one hit hard. I think it might be the summer weather. In any case, I saw this one came highly recommended from someone whose reviews I super trust (Christine, IG - @readingismagical) and that lots of people were giving it really high ratings for steaminess. Pretty much a no brainer…and boy did it deliver.
The Kiss Quotient is about Stella Lane, mid-twenties, on the autism spectrum, super financially successful as an econometrics analyst, and looking for someone to help her practice with relationships and sex. Enter Michael Phan, a male escort hired by Stella to assist her in her educational journey. He’s super attractive and talented (no spoilers!), but struggles with self-esteem due to a less than supportive father figure and under financial stress trying to make ends meet supporting his mother.
What a completely unique story this is, with its protagonist on the autism spectrum and a flipped script successful female meets/saves struggling male story line. And I liked it even more after I read the author’s afterwards and realized that both those aspects were done personally and on purpose. Hoang herself was diagnosed on the spectrum as an adult, after a self-realization that perhaps not all of her quirks were totally “normal” but that she also was definitively not alone in them the way she had always assumed she was. This story is, at least in part, based on personal experiences and that underrepresented perspective is wonderfully portrayed here. Also, she said she had been wanting to write a reverse Pretty Woman story for awhile and it just fell into place for her after her diagnosis. I mean, what is not to love there?!
Other than the sex scenes (and people did not lie, they really do start right away!), which were definitely enjoyable to read (no lies in this review – they got me excited), the details of this story are what really make it special. Seeing the way that Stella does everything she can to blend in and succeeds to the point that she sort of loses herself in the process, juxtaposed with Michael’s own low self-regard and sacrifice, is just so touching. They are the types of characters that are so real, that you warm up to so quickly, that you just cannot help but get sucked into their story and cheer for their “fairy tale” ending. Each is so genuine and unique – it’s almost too much that they are able to find someone so perfect and deserving of their love. Almost.
Honestly, this is just the perfect mix of sweet and sexy. I literally could not put it down and finished it in less than 24 hours. If you are looking for something to make your heart pound, with a seamless (pun intended – read the book and you’ll get it!) and tender love story, and tons of steaminess and sensuality, then this is the book for you. And even if you aren’t looking for that specifically, I still recommend it. I just loved this book - it was such as a refreshing summertime contemporary romance!
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“Sometimes the loneliest you could be was surrounded by people who didn’t understand you.”
I think I’ve said this before, but it’s super true, so I feel like it’s worth repeating. I LOVE Jane Eyre. It’s probably my favorite classic. And not only that, but I cannot get enough Jane Eyre retellings. Jane Steele by Lyndsay Faye is probably my favorite, but I own and/or have read at least 4 others. Straight up, I think Jane Eyre retellings might be my favorite literary genre. In any case, when I first heard of this one over a year ago, a YA retelling of Jane Eyre in space, I was pretty much like “I need it now.” Too bad it wasn’t set to be published until now. And even after publication, I had to put in a request for my library to purchase it, then request it, and then wait for it to arrive. So basically, I think I’m the first person to have checked it out. Which makes me feel both very cool and very nerdy. Anyhoo, without further ado, here’s my review!
So we all know the story of Jane Eyre: rich, single, mysterious estate owner falls in love with the bold (read: honest) governess he hired for his young charge, she falls back after initial consternation about his sullen broodiness, they try to get married but crazy current wife in the attic breaks it up, governess runs away heartbroken and disillusioned, time passes, governess is emotionally called back to estate somehow, finds that fire has disfigured her man and destroyed his estate, but the crazy woman is gone and the love is still there so they live happily ever after. (That was a fun recap to write.) Well, that story is basically all there in this retelling. Meaning there are no major plot surprises, but isn’t that what one wants/expects in a retelling?
This was a really well-paced retelling, with smooth, competent writing that does not overly rely on you knowing the original to fill in holes in its own development (which is my biggest pet peeve in retellings). I felt like Stella and Hugo (our Jane and Rochester) were a good match for each other, with some fun new characteristics in addition to the throwback ones (like Stella’s art and Hugo’s self-deprecation, though at times that did get a bit too much to handle). I also really enjoyed some of the other extra characters, again both in throwback for (Officer Xiao, Jessa) and new (George, Sergei, Jon). Plus, my heart enjoyed some of the referential naming, Like Hugo’s last name being Fairfax, his ship being named the Rochester, Stella’s name being mentioned as “common,” and other similar nods to the original.
As far as plot changes, a number of smaller things, like who the young charge that needs a governess and who the crazy woman in the attic are do get a remake. Plus, with the young age of the protagonists (this is a YA retelling), the reason for the governess running away has to be changed a bit. And it’s done really well here, adding a whole new dramatic layer to this love story that affects the wider “world” and gives it that sort of dystopia feel that is very popular in YA fantasy/sci-fi right now. And though I love the original love story so much, I did like that there was a bit of a larger societal rights/hierarchical theme addressed here. It just gave the story a little more as far as teeth and allowed for a little extra drama. The format may not have been my favorite (biological science not being a particular interest of mine), but I appreciated the intent within the greater story. I also liked the way that the circumstances of being in space do a great job paralleling the gothic Victorian world of Jane Eyre the original in a way that seems fairly natural. It’s hard, in a contemporary retelling, to find good and believable reasons for the need for a position as a governess in an isolated home or why a quick marriage between anyone from such different backgrounds would be unacceptable in the way it was for Jane and Stella. Plus, there needs to be a reasonable explanation for Stella’s low self-esteem and belief that she wasn’t good enough for Hugo…and though women often (unfortunately) deal with imposter syndrome today, this situation still felt more likely to me than it would have in a realistic modern setting. And the ending was a great, wonderfully (and expectantly) cheesy, finale. A great adaptation of the ending to fit the story and wrap it up the way the reader wants it to be.
All in all, this was a really well-done adaptation of a classic story into a futuristic space setting. It was totally cute and binge-able, as YA and as familiar a love story. I did not want to put the book done at all (I read it in two days). There’s a quote on the back that says this book is for “fans of galactic adventure and star-crossed love…” and though I never really thought of myself as that type of fan, this book definitely made me one. What a wonderful and unexpected discovery about myself. If you are looking for something light and entertaining with just the right amount of love and drama (or if you love Jane Eyre as much as I do), then go for this one!
“Sometimes the loneliest you could be was surrounded by people who didn’t understand you.”
I think I’ve said this before, but it’s super true, so I feel like it’s worth repeating. I LOVE Jane Eyre. It’s probably my favorite classic. And not only that, but I cannot get enough Jane Eyre retellings. Jane Steele by Lyndsay Faye is probably my favorite, but I own and/or have read at least 4 others. Straight up, I think Jane Eyre retellings might be my favorite literary genre. In any case, when I first heard of this one over a year ago, a YA retelling of Jane Eyre in space, I was pretty much like “I need it now.” Too bad it wasn’t set to be published until now. And even after publication, I had to put in a request for my library to purchase it, then request it, and then wait for it to arrive. So basically, I think I’m the first person to have checked it out. Which makes me feel both very cool and very nerdy. Anyhoo, without further ado, here’s my review!
So we all know the story of Jane Eyre: rich, single, mysterious estate owner falls in love with the bold (read: honest) governess he hired for his young charge, she falls back after initial consternation about his sullen broodiness, they try to get married but crazy current wife in the attic breaks it up, governess runs away heartbroken and disillusioned, time passes, governess is emotionally called back to estate somehow, finds that fire has disfigured her man and destroyed his estate, but the crazy woman is gone and the love is still there so they live happily ever after. (That was a fun recap to write.) Well, that story is basically all there in this retelling. Meaning there are no major plot surprises, but isn’t that what one wants/expects in a retelling?
This was a really well-paced retelling, with smooth, competent writing that does not overly rely on you knowing the original to fill in holes in its own development (which is my biggest pet peeve in retellings). I felt like Stella and Hugo (our Jane and Rochester) were a good match for each other, with some fun new characteristics in addition to the throwback ones (like Stella’s art and Hugo’s self-deprecation, though at times that did get a bit too much to handle). I also really enjoyed some of the other extra characters, again both in throwback for (Officer Xiao, Jessa) and new (George, Sergei, Jon). Plus, my heart enjoyed some of the referential naming, Like Hugo’s last name being Fairfax, his ship being named the Rochester, Stella’s name being mentioned as “common,” and other similar nods to the original.
As far as plot changes, a number of smaller things, like who the young charge that needs a governess and who the crazy woman in the attic are do get a remake. Plus, with the young age of the protagonists (this is a YA retelling), the reason for the governess running away has to be changed a bit. And it’s done really well here, adding a whole new dramatic layer to this love story that affects the wider “world” and gives it that sort of dystopia feel that is very popular in YA fantasy/sci-fi right now. And though I love the original love story so much, I did like that there was a bit of a larger societal rights/hierarchical theme addressed here. It just gave the story a little more as far as teeth and allowed for a little extra drama. The format may not have been my favorite (biological science not being a particular interest of mine), but I appreciated the intent within the greater story. I also liked the way that the circumstances of being in space do a great job paralleling the gothic Victorian world of Jane Eyre the original in a way that seems fairly natural. It’s hard, in a contemporary retelling, to find good and believable reasons for the need for a position as a governess in an isolated home or why a quick marriage between anyone from such different backgrounds would be unacceptable in the way it was for Jane and Stella. Plus, there needs to be a reasonable explanation for Stella’s low self-esteem and belief that she wasn’t good enough for Hugo…and though women often (unfortunately) deal with imposter syndrome today, this situation still felt more likely to me than it would have in a realistic modern setting. And the ending was a great, wonderfully (and expectantly) cheesy, finale. A great adaptation of the ending to fit the story and wrap it up the way the reader wants it to be.
All in all, this was a really well-done adaptation of a classic story into a futuristic space setting. It was totally cute and binge-able, as YA and as familiar a love story. I did not want to put the book done at all (I read it in two days). There’s a quote on the back that says this book is for “fans of galactic adventure and star-crossed love…” and though I never really thought of myself as that type of fan, this book definitely made me one. What a wonderful and unexpected discovery about myself. If you are looking for something light and entertaining with just the right amount of love and drama (or if you love Jane Eyre as much as I do), then go for this one!
Well, this is not going to be a super positive review (my first one in years though, so that’s a silver lining). So if that isn’t what you are looking for, go ahead and move on. This was not a personal choice, but chosen by a book club that I’m in. It’s not the book I voted for, but to be honest, it’s the summer…and I can get down with some romance (I’ve read some great ones recently). This one is not a great one.
It started out with such great potential: a choose your own adventure romance story. Like, that’s hilarious and awesome. Plus, the “options” included a brooding lord, a scallywag ladies man sort of lord, a Scottish Highlander, and what seemed like it could be a f/f option. So to start, I was getting Jane Eyre feels, Outlander feels, and general high fives for sexual representation in the regency era.
Honestly, this just fell so short of my expectations. And perhaps that’s my fault.
My biggest complaints were the lack of plot and character development. Like every third page there was some crazy event or something prompting you to have to choose one direction or another (which, I totally get is necessary for a choose your own situation), but that meant that things happened SO quickly. There was no chance for the drama and/or relationships to unfold with reasonable speed – everything was surface and rushed. And that pretty much meant that nothing here was compelling. And all the cheesy sex language romance stories use, that I normally put up with while reading, was not something I could read without rolling my eyes in the midst of such underdeveloped everything. I literally felt no investment in anything I was reading and I have never skimmed so much in my life. Like I couldn’t even get excited at the sex scenes because I felt like how we arrived at them was so fast and ridiculous and unbelievable.
To the authors’ credit – there were a ton a different story lines and options and endings. I read a lot of them, most of them, if not all of them (it was sometimes hard to keep track of where I needed to go back and follow another “choice”). Honestly, there was something for every romance interest/flavor and no shortage of sex and drama. It just…felt too distant for me to get over it. I get that this was likely not meant to be taken seriously. But the writing and development and feels were cringe-worthy to the point that I could not even appreciate it as a satire/joke.
I think I’ll just put choose your own adventure stories down as one of those childhood experiences that should stay in childhood. And I truly, though I hate to do this because I really do respect the time and effort it takes to write/publish a book, I cannot recommend this book at all. Not even a little. It may be one of the worst books I’ve ever read. I’m so sorry, but those are my feelings.
It started out with such great potential: a choose your own adventure romance story. Like, that’s hilarious and awesome. Plus, the “options” included a brooding lord, a scallywag ladies man sort of lord, a Scottish Highlander, and what seemed like it could be a f/f option. So to start, I was getting Jane Eyre feels, Outlander feels, and general high fives for sexual representation in the regency era.
Honestly, this just fell so short of my expectations. And perhaps that’s my fault.
My biggest complaints were the lack of plot and character development. Like every third page there was some crazy event or something prompting you to have to choose one direction or another (which, I totally get is necessary for a choose your own situation), but that meant that things happened SO quickly. There was no chance for the drama and/or relationships to unfold with reasonable speed – everything was surface and rushed. And that pretty much meant that nothing here was compelling. And all the cheesy sex language romance stories use, that I normally put up with while reading, was not something I could read without rolling my eyes in the midst of such underdeveloped everything. I literally felt no investment in anything I was reading and I have never skimmed so much in my life. Like I couldn’t even get excited at the sex scenes because I felt like how we arrived at them was so fast and ridiculous and unbelievable.
To the authors’ credit – there were a ton a different story lines and options and endings. I read a lot of them, most of them, if not all of them (it was sometimes hard to keep track of where I needed to go back and follow another “choice”). Honestly, there was something for every romance interest/flavor and no shortage of sex and drama. It just…felt too distant for me to get over it. I get that this was likely not meant to be taken seriously. But the writing and development and feels were cringe-worthy to the point that I could not even appreciate it as a satire/joke.
I think I’ll just put choose your own adventure stories down as one of those childhood experiences that should stay in childhood. And I truly, though I hate to do this because I really do respect the time and effort it takes to write/publish a book, I cannot recommend this book at all. Not even a little. It may be one of the worst books I’ve ever read. I’m so sorry, but those are my feelings.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“It’s a simple question, but there is no simple answer. That infuriates me. I can’t do whatever I want. I can’t be whatever I want.”
I was browsing at my local indie bookstore last weekend (which is something I do more often than I’d like to admit, since I cannot afford to buy all the books I want when I go there, but anyways…) and they had a display with some of the staff’s favorite recently released #OwnVoices YA lit. The Astonishing Color of After and THUG were both on there – both of which I had read and loved. And this book, which I had heard of (and loved the title of) was up there right next to them. Well, in that company, I figured they had to be right, it had to be good, so I immediately requested it from the library (remember I already said I can’t afford to actually buy all the books I want.) I started it as soon as it came in and read it in two sittings. I totally agree with the bookstore staff - very appropriately recommended.
Love, Hate & Other Filters is about Maya Aziz, a daughter born in the US to Indian immigrants, living in a small suburb of Chicago, Muslim, and a senior in high school. She does well in school, has an awesome best friend named Violet, and for years has been into film-making and documentaries. In fact, she secretly applied to (and got in) to NYU, and wants to go there to study that, more than anything else, but her parents expect for her to go to school near home…so she can be close and visit often. She’s also trying to figure out how to handle the pressure from her parents to find a polite Muslim Indian boy to date (and of course plan to marry). And even if she does meet a good one (wink, wink), will it be enough to distract her from the new attention she’s getting from Phil, a (not Muslim or Indian) boy at school that she’s crushed on from afar for ages? One day though, something happens that makes all of these things seem like minor details, a tragedy that exacerbates (and turns violent) the feeling of separation she’s always sort of had as the only Muslim girl, the only Indian girl, in school. A tragedy that does nothing to help ease, and in fact worsens, the pressures and concerns of her parents.
Like I said, this was a fast-paced and absorbing read. The first third is just plain adorable, as we get to know Maya and her parents and Violet and Kareem and Phil and Hina and all their relationships with each other are set up. It’s a sweet high school setting, and the voice telling the story is perfect. Lots of contemporary vernacular and quick dialogue (which I loved) and it has a great balance of the normal high school “drama” (crushes, etc.) and some concerns (where to go to college, etc.) that are more serious. And they are handled in lovely parallel. From page one, the author throws us into this normal high school story alongside a heavy dose of Indian culture – weddings, cultural expectations, language, food, etc. While I’ve read some reviews that say this is not always what Indian culture in America is like, that doesn’t mean it’s not true in other cases. Every experience is different, in life and in books, and so it’s important to keep in mind that this is a single perspective.
In any case, back to the book, about a third of the way in (naturally, right after Maya has finally talked to her parents and gotten permission to go to NYU), there is an attack in a nearby city that changes everything. And here we get into some of the more serious parts of the novel. The parts where Maya and her family are threatened, have violence acted upon them, are scared for their lives and safety and cannot understand why this is happening in a community that, prior, has seemed to comfortable and accepting. And this fear leads to some difficult outcomes, decisions, and situations, both within the family and between them and the community. It’s hard to read at times, so senseless, but it’s important because it is real. And again, though every person’s experiences with these situations are different, these things are happening in the US. Every day. And it’s not going to get better if it’s ignored. Maya’s voice, as she tells us how her everyday life and outlook are affected by this one act and its aftershocks, is honest and clear. It’s frustrated and scared, but also still trying to focus on the good things. But Maya, as any young adult might under such stress, hits a breaking point and things come to a head. When she has to make an impossible choice between her family and her dreams, a choice for which culture is (perhaps) partially responsible, but circumstances more so, your heart cannot help but break for her. For anyone who lives in this country to have to face these types of decisions even in part because we, as a society, are not accepting enough…that’s absolutely wrong.
However, credit to the author here, she is able to address these more serious topics at the same time as growing budding relationships and turning crushes into something more. It’s a perfect representation of high school…pretty much the only time in our lives where the adorable and the solemn happen at the same time like this. My heart was breaking for Maya, yes, but it was also filling…as her best friend supports/stands by her through everything and her own romance story takes off. I loved this aspect of the novel. And, honestly, I love the way the author handled it at the end as well. It’s realistic and perfectly bittersweet. It has that sepia tint of first love in a gorgeous way. The way Maya’s goals/dreams are handled is similarly bittersweet, with hope for the future, but myriad challenges in the present. Again, a perfect snapshot of that time in our lives.
The last thing I want to mention is the stories and viewpoints that are represented in this novel. Of course Maya is our heroine, and the main perspective is hers, but we also get insight into the actions of her parents, of the aggressors, of her friends and more. We get some of the “why” behind everyone’s decisions, the regret some of them have, the fear that drives them. And this helps spread the message that though some of these problems are invasive, kind words and intervention from friends/family could, and do, make a major difference. And if we all step in when we see something amiss, perhaps some tragedies can be avoided. It’s a hopeful message tucked in with all the other amazing aspects of this books.
Maya is a phenomenal multi-dimensional protagonist. She struggles against the barriers in her life like any young adult (though for sure she has more challenges than most), sometimes with great poise and sometimes with a little more sarcasm and close-mindedness than would be ideal (again, we’re talking normal teenagers here). But her conviction in her dreams and her courage in following them, even in the face of fear and hate, is inspiring. Her story is truly a heart-wrenching and butterfly-inducing tale of the young love, young hate and the other filters through which we grow to see life – exactly as the title promises. I highly recommend it.
“It’s a simple question, but there is no simple answer. That infuriates me. I can’t do whatever I want. I can’t be whatever I want.”
I was browsing at my local indie bookstore last weekend (which is something I do more often than I’d like to admit, since I cannot afford to buy all the books I want when I go there, but anyways…) and they had a display with some of the staff’s favorite recently released #OwnVoices YA lit. The Astonishing Color of After and THUG were both on there – both of which I had read and loved. And this book, which I had heard of (and loved the title of) was up there right next to them. Well, in that company, I figured they had to be right, it had to be good, so I immediately requested it from the library (remember I already said I can’t afford to actually buy all the books I want.) I started it as soon as it came in and read it in two sittings. I totally agree with the bookstore staff - very appropriately recommended.
Love, Hate & Other Filters is about Maya Aziz, a daughter born in the US to Indian immigrants, living in a small suburb of Chicago, Muslim, and a senior in high school. She does well in school, has an awesome best friend named Violet, and for years has been into film-making and documentaries. In fact, she secretly applied to (and got in) to NYU, and wants to go there to study that, more than anything else, but her parents expect for her to go to school near home…so she can be close and visit often. She’s also trying to figure out how to handle the pressure from her parents to find a polite Muslim Indian boy to date (and of course plan to marry). And even if she does meet a good one (wink, wink), will it be enough to distract her from the new attention she’s getting from Phil, a (not Muslim or Indian) boy at school that she’s crushed on from afar for ages? One day though, something happens that makes all of these things seem like minor details, a tragedy that exacerbates (and turns violent) the feeling of separation she’s always sort of had as the only Muslim girl, the only Indian girl, in school. A tragedy that does nothing to help ease, and in fact worsens, the pressures and concerns of her parents.
Like I said, this was a fast-paced and absorbing read. The first third is just plain adorable, as we get to know Maya and her parents and Violet and Kareem and Phil and Hina and all their relationships with each other are set up. It’s a sweet high school setting, and the voice telling the story is perfect. Lots of contemporary vernacular and quick dialogue (which I loved) and it has a great balance of the normal high school “drama” (crushes, etc.) and some concerns (where to go to college, etc.) that are more serious. And they are handled in lovely parallel. From page one, the author throws us into this normal high school story alongside a heavy dose of Indian culture – weddings, cultural expectations, language, food, etc. While I’ve read some reviews that say this is not always what Indian culture in America is like, that doesn’t mean it’s not true in other cases. Every experience is different, in life and in books, and so it’s important to keep in mind that this is a single perspective.
In any case, back to the book, about a third of the way in (naturally, right after Maya has finally talked to her parents and gotten permission to go to NYU), there is an attack in a nearby city that changes everything. And here we get into some of the more serious parts of the novel. The parts where Maya and her family are threatened, have violence acted upon them, are scared for their lives and safety and cannot understand why this is happening in a community that, prior, has seemed to comfortable and accepting. And this fear leads to some difficult outcomes, decisions, and situations, both within the family and between them and the community. It’s hard to read at times, so senseless, but it’s important because it is real. And again, though every person’s experiences with these situations are different, these things are happening in the US. Every day. And it’s not going to get better if it’s ignored. Maya’s voice, as she tells us how her everyday life and outlook are affected by this one act and its aftershocks, is honest and clear. It’s frustrated and scared, but also still trying to focus on the good things. But Maya, as any young adult might under such stress, hits a breaking point and things come to a head. When she has to make an impossible choice between her family and her dreams, a choice for which culture is (perhaps) partially responsible, but circumstances more so, your heart cannot help but break for her. For anyone who lives in this country to have to face these types of decisions even in part because we, as a society, are not accepting enough…that’s absolutely wrong.
However, credit to the author here, she is able to address these more serious topics at the same time as growing budding relationships and turning crushes into something more. It’s a perfect representation of high school…pretty much the only time in our lives where the adorable and the solemn happen at the same time like this. My heart was breaking for Maya, yes, but it was also filling…as her best friend supports/stands by her through everything and her own romance story takes off. I loved this aspect of the novel. And, honestly, I love the way the author handled it at the end as well. It’s realistic and perfectly bittersweet. It has that sepia tint of first love in a gorgeous way. The way Maya’s goals/dreams are handled is similarly bittersweet, with hope for the future, but myriad challenges in the present. Again, a perfect snapshot of that time in our lives.
The last thing I want to mention is the stories and viewpoints that are represented in this novel. Of course Maya is our heroine, and the main perspective is hers, but we also get insight into the actions of her parents, of the aggressors, of her friends and more. We get some of the “why” behind everyone’s decisions, the regret some of them have, the fear that drives them. And this helps spread the message that though some of these problems are invasive, kind words and intervention from friends/family could, and do, make a major difference. And if we all step in when we see something amiss, perhaps some tragedies can be avoided. It’s a hopeful message tucked in with all the other amazing aspects of this books.
Maya is a phenomenal multi-dimensional protagonist. She struggles against the barriers in her life like any young adult (though for sure she has more challenges than most), sometimes with great poise and sometimes with a little more sarcasm and close-mindedness than would be ideal (again, we’re talking normal teenagers here). But her conviction in her dreams and her courage in following them, even in the face of fear and hate, is inspiring. Her story is truly a heart-wrenching and butterfly-inducing tale of the young love, young hate and the other filters through which we grow to see life – exactly as the title promises. I highly recommend it.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I first saw this book on @bookworm_man’s IG – a source I definitely trust for books. He had nothing but good things to say about it, so I knew, when I saw it as an option on First to Read, that I wanted it.
This is a coming of age story centered around a loss of innocence. Gabriel (Gaby) is around 10, half-French and half-Rwandan, living in Burundi. It’s just a year or so before the Rwandan genocide that everyone knows about, and though tensions are growing both between political factions and between Hutus and Tutsis, Gaby lives removed from this. Living a fairly privileged life, his biggest concerns and past-times are (as they should be for youth) stealing mangoes from the neighbors, his new bike, and the gang of friend he runs around with. This shift in his transition from childhood starts with his parents’ separation and is quickly followed by many of his friends becoming more and more politicized as they lose family and friends to the onset of war. Gaby fights against being pulled into this storm, but in the end, he too transitions out of the carelessness of youth and into a world that doesn’t discriminate in pain and loss.
Something really interesting about this novel was that, though it’s listed as fiction, it has a strong feel of memoir to it. (And after reading about the author’s background, that really does not surprise me.) It has the jumpy quality of memoirs, where highlighted stories from childhood are told and bounced between, with less concern for timelines or consistent development than for making sure the “best” bits are told. In addition, this is a book in translation so there are definitely some parts that are less smooth, as far as wording or vernacular. Because of this, it took me a little bit to adjust to the flow, but once I did, things picked up quickly. And I don’t think that, by the end, that had very much bearing on my overall impressions. In fact, the moments of amazing description, ones that made you feel the breeze and the sun and the rain and the sounds of music or insects or gunshots, far outweigh the awkward moments. There were many times while I was reading that I truly felt like I was there with Gaby, terrified of jumping off a high dive or with dripping mango juice all down my arms or laying in bed eavesdropping on his mother’s horrific stories of burying her slaughtered family alone.
The way the transition from the pranks and worries of childhood give way to the bullets and deaths or war and genocide is intuitively written. It takes a book that begins as merely an interesting snapshot of life in Africa to something much more. But starting with that base of “life before” makes the changes you read about that much more upsetting. And it’s even more heartbreaking to see it in this light, both through the eyes of a child but also, through the eyes of someone who saw the idyll that was his country before the war and sees what it has become after as a result of hate and fear. What Gaby sees happening, the new choices he is forced to make, what becomes a new normal, is terrible as anything can be. But through it all he deals with it as any terrified youth losing his carefree days might – it’s very relatable in that way. It’s also so hard to see what it was like for him in such a privileged situation and imagine how much worse it still could be. The one other thing I want to mention is the affect of the genocide and loss on his mother, which was probably one of the saddest parts that we see happening – illustrating plainly that surviving something is not the end…and that living with those experiences might be even worse.
I read that this book quickly became a bestseller when first released in France and I can completely see why. It’s an accessible representation of an unfathomably evil time and, past the facts and numbers we all know, really puts a human face on tragedy. It’s a short, fast read, but still manages to show the drastic-ness and unreality of the Rwandan genocide, what (at a basic level) led to it, how unreasonably-founded and dangerous societal factions can be, and how from one generation to another these thoughts and feelings take root and perpetuate. An affecting and illustrative narration of coming of age and loss of innocence.
SO many moments and quotes and insights that I wanted to pull for you all. Here’s the shortest selection I could make:
“What mattered was this: Loving. Living. Laughing. Being. Forging ahead, never faltering, to the ends of the earth, and even a little beyond.”
“Rain had washed the sky, while the rays of sunshine striking the sodden ground traced spirals of pinkish mist above a vast green plain intersected by the ochre waters of the Rusizi river.”
“Theirs are interchangeable spirits, floating voices, erratic heartbeats. In the ashen hours of night, individuals disappear and all that remains is the country talking to itself.”
“So was this what violence meant? Raw fear and disbelief.”
“War always takes it upon itself, unsolicited, to find us an enemy. Even though I wanted to remain neutral, I couldn’t. I was born with this story. It ran in my blood. I belonged to it.”
“Suffering is a wildcard in the game of debate, it wipes the floor with all other arguments.”
“You should beware of books, they’re sleeping genies.”
“We shouldn’t doubt the beauty of things, not even under a torturing sky.”
“Genocide is an oil slick: those who don’t drown in it are polluted for life.”
“Lying on my bed, I could admire the spectacle of tracer bullets in the sky. In another time and another place, I‘d have mistaken them for shooting stars.”
“If one is from a country, if one was born there in a manner that one would say one was a native-indigene, well, one carries the country in one’s eyes, skin, hands, in the hairs of its trees, the flesh of its soil, the bones of its stones, the blood of its rivers, its sky, its savour, its men and women…”
“I don’t know how this story will end. But I do remember how it all began.”
I received an ARC of this book, provided by the publisher via First to Read, in exchange for an honest review.
I first saw this book on @bookworm_man’s IG – a source I definitely trust for books. He had nothing but good things to say about it, so I knew, when I saw it as an option on First to Read, that I wanted it.
This is a coming of age story centered around a loss of innocence. Gabriel (Gaby) is around 10, half-French and half-Rwandan, living in Burundi. It’s just a year or so before the Rwandan genocide that everyone knows about, and though tensions are growing both between political factions and between Hutus and Tutsis, Gaby lives removed from this. Living a fairly privileged life, his biggest concerns and past-times are (as they should be for youth) stealing mangoes from the neighbors, his new bike, and the gang of friend he runs around with. This shift in his transition from childhood starts with his parents’ separation and is quickly followed by many of his friends becoming more and more politicized as they lose family and friends to the onset of war. Gaby fights against being pulled into this storm, but in the end, he too transitions out of the carelessness of youth and into a world that doesn’t discriminate in pain and loss.
Something really interesting about this novel was that, though it’s listed as fiction, it has a strong feel of memoir to it. (And after reading about the author’s background, that really does not surprise me.) It has the jumpy quality of memoirs, where highlighted stories from childhood are told and bounced between, with less concern for timelines or consistent development than for making sure the “best” bits are told. In addition, this is a book in translation so there are definitely some parts that are less smooth, as far as wording or vernacular. Because of this, it took me a little bit to adjust to the flow, but once I did, things picked up quickly. And I don’t think that, by the end, that had very much bearing on my overall impressions. In fact, the moments of amazing description, ones that made you feel the breeze and the sun and the rain and the sounds of music or insects or gunshots, far outweigh the awkward moments. There were many times while I was reading that I truly felt like I was there with Gaby, terrified of jumping off a high dive or with dripping mango juice all down my arms or laying in bed eavesdropping on his mother’s horrific stories of burying her slaughtered family alone.
The way the transition from the pranks and worries of childhood give way to the bullets and deaths or war and genocide is intuitively written. It takes a book that begins as merely an interesting snapshot of life in Africa to something much more. But starting with that base of “life before” makes the changes you read about that much more upsetting. And it’s even more heartbreaking to see it in this light, both through the eyes of a child but also, through the eyes of someone who saw the idyll that was his country before the war and sees what it has become after as a result of hate and fear. What Gaby sees happening, the new choices he is forced to make, what becomes a new normal, is terrible as anything can be. But through it all he deals with it as any terrified youth losing his carefree days might – it’s very relatable in that way. It’s also so hard to see what it was like for him in such a privileged situation and imagine how much worse it still could be. The one other thing I want to mention is the affect of the genocide and loss on his mother, which was probably one of the saddest parts that we see happening – illustrating plainly that surviving something is not the end…and that living with those experiences might be even worse.
I read that this book quickly became a bestseller when first released in France and I can completely see why. It’s an accessible representation of an unfathomably evil time and, past the facts and numbers we all know, really puts a human face on tragedy. It’s a short, fast read, but still manages to show the drastic-ness and unreality of the Rwandan genocide, what (at a basic level) led to it, how unreasonably-founded and dangerous societal factions can be, and how from one generation to another these thoughts and feelings take root and perpetuate. An affecting and illustrative narration of coming of age and loss of innocence.
SO many moments and quotes and insights that I wanted to pull for you all. Here’s the shortest selection I could make:
“What mattered was this: Loving. Living. Laughing. Being. Forging ahead, never faltering, to the ends of the earth, and even a little beyond.”
“Rain had washed the sky, while the rays of sunshine striking the sodden ground traced spirals of pinkish mist above a vast green plain intersected by the ochre waters of the Rusizi river.”
“Theirs are interchangeable spirits, floating voices, erratic heartbeats. In the ashen hours of night, individuals disappear and all that remains is the country talking to itself.”
“So was this what violence meant? Raw fear and disbelief.”
“War always takes it upon itself, unsolicited, to find us an enemy. Even though I wanted to remain neutral, I couldn’t. I was born with this story. It ran in my blood. I belonged to it.”
“Suffering is a wildcard in the game of debate, it wipes the floor with all other arguments.”
“You should beware of books, they’re sleeping genies.”
“We shouldn’t doubt the beauty of things, not even under a torturing sky.”
“Genocide is an oil slick: those who don’t drown in it are polluted for life.”
“Lying on my bed, I could admire the spectacle of tracer bullets in the sky. In another time and another place, I‘d have mistaken them for shooting stars.”
“If one is from a country, if one was born there in a manner that one would say one was a native-indigene, well, one carries the country in one’s eyes, skin, hands, in the hairs of its trees, the flesh of its soil, the bones of its stones, the blood of its rivers, its sky, its savour, its men and women…”
“I don’t know how this story will end. But I do remember how it all began.”
I received an ARC of this book, provided by the publisher via First to Read, in exchange for an honest review.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“Hello. I hope somebody is listening.”
This is a bit of a lesser known title, which it a bit out of the ordinary for me of late. I’ve really been more on the “popular new books” train, but everything needs a little shake-up once in awhile. Also, saw someone on bookstagram mention that this was life-changing for them, though unfortunately this was months ago and I cannot remember who it was to give them credit. In any case, I saw it in my library’s little used book sale section and figured it was a sign. Plus, it’s by an LQBTQ+ author AND is full of awesome sexuality (and other) representation – the perfect read for Pride month.
It’s hard to give a description of what Radio Silence is about because really, it’s just a phenomenally authentic a snapshot of real life, as it goes. But here’s my best attempt. Frances is an “about to take the biggest exams of her life” aged student (this novel takes place in England, and I am not super familiar with their education/testing system…but something about GCSE’s if you know more than I do), which puts her at about the perfect YA protagonist age. She is a closet geek, but mostly presents a super studious façade as Head Girl in her school. Obsessed with a podcast called Universe City, she ends up being asked by the mysterious Creator, known as Radio Silence, to do artwork for their episodes. And it turns out…she knows the Creator in real life (this is not a spoiler…hello quiet Aled Last)! They forge a secretive and exclusive friendship, something neither of them has really had before, and things are awesome for awhile as they work together and start to come out of their respective shells. That is, until Aled’s secret identity is found out and soon after he has to leave for University…then everything falls apart. Frances loses a friend and Aled loses more than that. But perhaps they will be strong enough to save themselves, their friendships and their futures, if they can just find the confidence to do it.
I’m going to do this review a little differently than most of my past ones. There are lots of things that I want to mention, none of which really flow together well. So, in the style of the narration (short little chapters that kind of jump around), I’m going with a list of short points, as opposed to nice pretty paragraphs. I hope it works.
- The representation is BOMB. Frances is biracial and bisexual. I rarely see bisexual characters and I love it. Aled is asexual, or more specifically, demisexual, which is a sexuality that I have actually never seen before. I love that even more. Two other characters, side-ish but still important characters, are gay. Radio Silence is gender fluid, pronouns: they/them. And there are a number of other minority representations, including at least Asian and Indian (that I can remember).
- The voice of the narration (all from Frances’ POV) is SPOT DAMN ON. It’s like, exactly the insecure yet individual voice that is perfect for these adolescent years. I’m having a hard time thinking of another YA novel that has nailed a voice so perfectly. Not just that, but the general dialogue was spot on – quippy and fast, but also not too tightly crafted.
- In addition to the writing itself, the structure (short chapters that allowed quick jumps in time and events) was perfect for this story. It followed the jumps the characters themselves were experiencing, which made the entire reading experience a more tangible one.
- The basic plotline is reminiscent of Eliza and Her Monsters, which I read last year, but this is a much deeper and more intense story. I mean, Eliza was fluffy YA compared to this. Not to take anything away from Eliza, which I also enjoyed, but this was just a more profound story.
- The general feel of being in high school (or whatever this British equivalent is called) is really phenomenally portrayed. I already mentioned the insecurity, but the common unsure-ness of each of the characters is so relatable. From “Am I good enough to get into University?” to “What can/will I do if I don’t want to/am unable to go to University?” to “I need to hide the ‘real’ me because it is too weird to be accepted.” to “They’re just hanging out with me to be nice, but in reality they are way color than me.” – it’s all just so…true. Everyone thinks that everyone else is cooler or better and they all try to fit some mold of “belonging” that in reality no one really wants/understands.
- I LOVE Frances’ mom. She really resonated with me personally, and my outlooks…grown from a number of experiences I’ve been involved in over the past few years. And honestly, I’m not planning to have any kids, but if I did, I can only hope I would be just like her.
- Honestly, this is the best portrayal of the stressful reality of current-day student-hood that I have ever read. If you want to know what it’s like to be a teenager/high schooler nowadays, then READ THIS BOOK.
- Other than sexuality and gender (which are addressed in an open-minded, inclusive and realistic way – especially in regards to self-discovery and personal coming to terms) and overall school experiences, there are some important themes addressed. These themes include, but are not limited to, depression, anxiety, parental abuse (and I love the way this was looked at – its atypical for how it’s normally written, but no less powerful or necessary for that), self-discovery and actualization, and more. As I said, SO profound.
This book resonated with me hardcore. Honestly, I have almost never read anything I have identified with so strongly. It has made me really think about a lot of things, some of which are more obvious (I was definitely a grades-obsessed student with a sort of/not so secret weird side) and some that I am not totally even sure enough about to share yet. It’s been years since I was in high school, but I really wish I had had this book then. Better late than never though, I suppose. And I definitely plan to continue to think through all the feels that this book brought up for me…for a long time to come.
If you can’t tell, this is one of my favorite books of the year so far. It is SO real. I wholeheartedly recommend it.
There were a million poignant moments that I wanted to share from this book. Here’s a selection:
“…to be honest I wished I could do that same, just go home when I wanted to, but I couldn’t, because I’m too scared to do what I want.”
“It took quite a lot of effort not to say sorry for saying sorry.”
“I always thought he looked cooler than me, but he always thought I looked cooler than him.”
“Everyone loves a sad but hopefully ending.”
“I think by now, February, we’ve, as they say, ‘lost touch.’ Not that we ever touched in the first place. In the end, I’m still only ever looking where you’ve looked, I’m only ever walking where you walked, I’m in your dark-blue shadow and you never seem to turn around to find me there.
I wonder sometimes whether you’ve exploded already, like a star, and what I’m seeing is you three million years into the past, and you’re not here anymore. How can we be together here, now, when you are so far away? When you are so far ago? I’m shouting so loudly, but you never turn around to see me. Perhaps it is I who have already exploded.
Either way, we are going to bring beautiful things into the universe.”
“I didn’t know exactly what was stressing me out. It wasn’t one single thing. It was more like a billion tiny things all pulling together to form one giant tidal wave of stress. It felt like I was drowning, sort of.”
“You’re a sunshine angel.”
“I’m sure you think I was complaining about nothing. You probably think I’m a whiny teenager. And yeah, it was all in my head, probably. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. So fuck you all.”
“And after the fire, that was it, you were gone
I see you in every fire that lights
In the end I wish it had been me who’d fallen into the Fire, though maybe that’s a selfish thing to say
The Fire that touched you must have come from a star
You were always brave enough to get burned in the Fire”
“Sometimes you can’t say the things you’re thinking. Sometimes it’s too hard.”
“Hello. I hope somebody is listening.”
This is a bit of a lesser known title, which it a bit out of the ordinary for me of late. I’ve really been more on the “popular new books” train, but everything needs a little shake-up once in awhile. Also, saw someone on bookstagram mention that this was life-changing for them, though unfortunately this was months ago and I cannot remember who it was to give them credit. In any case, I saw it in my library’s little used book sale section and figured it was a sign. Plus, it’s by an LQBTQ+ author AND is full of awesome sexuality (and other) representation – the perfect read for Pride month.
It’s hard to give a description of what Radio Silence is about because really, it’s just a phenomenally authentic a snapshot of real life, as it goes. But here’s my best attempt. Frances is an “about to take the biggest exams of her life” aged student (this novel takes place in England, and I am not super familiar with their education/testing system…but something about GCSE’s if you know more than I do), which puts her at about the perfect YA protagonist age. She is a closet geek, but mostly presents a super studious façade as Head Girl in her school. Obsessed with a podcast called Universe City, she ends up being asked by the mysterious Creator, known as Radio Silence, to do artwork for their episodes. And it turns out…she knows the Creator in real life (this is not a spoiler…hello quiet Aled Last)! They forge a secretive and exclusive friendship, something neither of them has really had before, and things are awesome for awhile as they work together and start to come out of their respective shells. That is, until Aled’s secret identity is found out and soon after he has to leave for University…then everything falls apart. Frances loses a friend and Aled loses more than that. But perhaps they will be strong enough to save themselves, their friendships and their futures, if they can just find the confidence to do it.
I’m going to do this review a little differently than most of my past ones. There are lots of things that I want to mention, none of which really flow together well. So, in the style of the narration (short little chapters that kind of jump around), I’m going with a list of short points, as opposed to nice pretty paragraphs. I hope it works.
- The representation is BOMB. Frances is biracial and bisexual. I rarely see bisexual characters and I love it. Aled is asexual, or more specifically, demisexual, which is a sexuality that I have actually never seen before. I love that even more. Two other characters, side-ish but still important characters, are gay. Radio Silence is gender fluid, pronouns: they/them. And there are a number of other minority representations, including at least Asian and Indian (that I can remember).
- The voice of the narration (all from Frances’ POV) is SPOT DAMN ON. It’s like, exactly the insecure yet individual voice that is perfect for these adolescent years. I’m having a hard time thinking of another YA novel that has nailed a voice so perfectly. Not just that, but the general dialogue was spot on – quippy and fast, but also not too tightly crafted.
- In addition to the writing itself, the structure (short chapters that allowed quick jumps in time and events) was perfect for this story. It followed the jumps the characters themselves were experiencing, which made the entire reading experience a more tangible one.
- The basic plotline is reminiscent of Eliza and Her Monsters, which I read last year, but this is a much deeper and more intense story. I mean, Eliza was fluffy YA compared to this. Not to take anything away from Eliza, which I also enjoyed, but this was just a more profound story.
- The general feel of being in high school (or whatever this British equivalent is called) is really phenomenally portrayed. I already mentioned the insecurity, but the common unsure-ness of each of the characters is so relatable. From “Am I good enough to get into University?” to “What can/will I do if I don’t want to/am unable to go to University?” to “I need to hide the ‘real’ me because it is too weird to be accepted.” to “They’re just hanging out with me to be nice, but in reality they are way color than me.” – it’s all just so…true. Everyone thinks that everyone else is cooler or better and they all try to fit some mold of “belonging” that in reality no one really wants/understands.
- I LOVE Frances’ mom. She really resonated with me personally, and my outlooks…grown from a number of experiences I’ve been involved in over the past few years. And honestly, I’m not planning to have any kids, but if I did, I can only hope I would be just like her.
- Honestly, this is the best portrayal of the stressful reality of current-day student-hood that I have ever read. If you want to know what it’s like to be a teenager/high schooler nowadays, then READ THIS BOOK.
- Other than sexuality and gender (which are addressed in an open-minded, inclusive and realistic way – especially in regards to self-discovery and personal coming to terms) and overall school experiences, there are some important themes addressed. These themes include, but are not limited to, depression, anxiety, parental abuse (and I love the way this was looked at – its atypical for how it’s normally written, but no less powerful or necessary for that), self-discovery and actualization, and more. As I said, SO profound.
This book resonated with me hardcore. Honestly, I have almost never read anything I have identified with so strongly. It has made me really think about a lot of things, some of which are more obvious (I was definitely a grades-obsessed student with a sort of/not so secret weird side) and some that I am not totally even sure enough about to share yet. It’s been years since I was in high school, but I really wish I had had this book then. Better late than never though, I suppose. And I definitely plan to continue to think through all the feels that this book brought up for me…for a long time to come.
If you can’t tell, this is one of my favorite books of the year so far. It is SO real. I wholeheartedly recommend it.
There were a million poignant moments that I wanted to share from this book. Here’s a selection:
“…to be honest I wished I could do that same, just go home when I wanted to, but I couldn’t, because I’m too scared to do what I want.”
“It took quite a lot of effort not to say sorry for saying sorry.”
“I always thought he looked cooler than me, but he always thought I looked cooler than him.”
“Everyone loves a sad but hopefully ending.”
“I think by now, February, we’ve, as they say, ‘lost touch.’ Not that we ever touched in the first place. In the end, I’m still only ever looking where you’ve looked, I’m only ever walking where you walked, I’m in your dark-blue shadow and you never seem to turn around to find me there.
I wonder sometimes whether you’ve exploded already, like a star, and what I’m seeing is you three million years into the past, and you’re not here anymore. How can we be together here, now, when you are so far away? When you are so far ago? I’m shouting so loudly, but you never turn around to see me. Perhaps it is I who have already exploded.
Either way, we are going to bring beautiful things into the universe.”
“I didn’t know exactly what was stressing me out. It wasn’t one single thing. It was more like a billion tiny things all pulling together to form one giant tidal wave of stress. It felt like I was drowning, sort of.”
“You’re a sunshine angel.”
“I’m sure you think I was complaining about nothing. You probably think I’m a whiny teenager. And yeah, it was all in my head, probably. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. So fuck you all.”
“And after the fire, that was it, you were gone
I see you in every fire that lights
In the end I wish it had been me who’d fallen into the Fire, though maybe that’s a selfish thing to say
The Fire that touched you must have come from a star
You were always brave enough to get burned in the Fire”
“Sometimes you can’t say the things you’re thinking. Sometimes it’s too hard.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“Slavery was a long, slow process of dulling.”
As I have mentioned before, I’m trying to read books from a more representative range of authors this year. I have always read more female authors than male…I just have always gravitated that way. But I realized that I was not doing as well reading books from a variety of racial, ethnic, sexuality, etc. authors. And so I’m trying to be more intentional with the books I pick up this year. Relatedly, as I am sure you can tell from my “read” list that I am super into fantasy/sci-fi, which traditionally is one of the most male, specifically white male, dominated genres. Recently, there have been a lot of women bursting onto the scene, many in YA fantasy/sci-fi (but I’ve also talked recently about how I think the YA/adult line is getting super blurred, so I am not counting all that for now), but still significantly fewer minority authors. I did some research, found out that Octavia Butler is billed as the first black woman to write sci-fi, and just knew that I needed to read her. I started with Kindred because it was her first, so I figured it should be mine too.
Kindred tells the story of Dana, a “modern” (though to be fair, the 1970s are no longer considered all that modern) back woman who is, on a random afternoon right after her 26th birthday, suddenly transported back in time to the antebellum south. It turns out that a distant ancestor of hers, Rufus Weylin, is the white son of a Maryland plantation owner and some kind of connection forms between them, so that when Rufus’ life is in danger, Dana is “called” to help him. Over the period of a few months (in present time anyways), Dana is called back 6 times to rescue Rufus, each time staying longer and longer, getting more immersed in slave life on the plantation and facing more and more danger/harm.
This book is a fascinating mix of sci-fi and historical fiction. In fact, I was surprised by how much more historical fiction it is than sci-fi. I mean yes, there are the obvious time travel and crossing your own historical timeline features, but those moments are quick compared to the rest of the story. Not to say that that’s a bad thing. This is one of the most immersive “salve memoir” pieces of historical fiction that I have ever read. The time that Dana spends in antebellum Maryland are by far the most realistic and visceral parts of the novel. From her complicated relationship with Rufus, as a black woman in a weird slave/freewoman line who holds incredible power over his fate, to Rufus’ own internal struggle over his love for some of his slaves and his growth into a “man of the time” who see those same people as his property, to the reality of life as a house slave versus that of a field-hand to the many intricacies and tensions within the slave community itself and, most importantly, the truths of being a slave and what the absolute lack of rights actually means in real life. This last, the illustration of the myriad dangers, fears, horrible treatment and overall lack of autonomy experienced by slaves in America, is the real crowning exploration of this novel. Throughout the novel, these themes are examined and developed in an incredibly full, multi-dimensional way. We also get small glimpses of life in the mid to late 70s in America, which I’m qualifying as part of the historical fiction aspect of the book at this point. Dana, in her current day life, is married to Kevin, a white man. As we read, we get more details about their relationship and some of the challenges they are facing (primarily with their families) as the US struggles with the ramifications and repercussions of slavery and segregation (not that we’re anywhere near done struggling with those same issues today, of course.)
Something interesting about the writing itself is that, for most of the book. I felt like the writing was very didactic, unemotional, clinical even. Dana’s matter of fact, analytical, responses to everything from the time travel itself, and the reasons why/how it’s happening, to the horrific acts she sees and experiences as a slave seemed…dispassionate. Even the dialogue, including most of her interactions with her husband (where she could be the most unabashedly upset or affection) was closed off and too composed. It was strange because, even if she felt like she couldn’t outwardly show anything or act on any of her feelings, her inner reactions should have had more feeling, more passion. It was a strange writing style for me to adjust to. (Partway through, I thought maybe that was on purpose. Maybe Dana actually wasn’t all that shocked. Perhaps her life in the 70s, the inequality she lived, had prepared her in a way that I cannot ever understand, as a white person. Perhaps I’m over-thinking it.) Relatedly, this book, at times, felt like it was written as a “primer” about slavery. Many of the “philosophical” arguments/discussions Dana has with Rufus and Kevin are written as if the reader has likely never before considered these viewpoints on slavery and slavery-related issues before (for example, her conversation with Kevin about the young black children on the plantation “playing” at auctioning each other off) and Butler is taking things slow, easing them into it, trying not to overwhelm or “blow out of proportion” these feelings. I don’t know if that’s a product of when it was written (and hopefully things have progressed some) or if it’s something else (hopefully it’s that we have moved forward as a country since then, though I really only partly believe that), but I felt it was worth mentioning.
In any case, the style made me feel like I was not getting a sense of tangibility from these characters. The descriptions of the life and experiences were completely immersive, as I mentioned, but the characters themselves were less so. Yet, when I finished reading their stories had somehow transformed into something so solid that I actually felt I had read a true to goodness memoir, and not a work of fiction. I truly cannot say when or how that happened, but I was surprised and impressed by it. The ending itself was also deftly done, a mix of finality and open-endedness that perfectly fit both the story/characters and the reality of record keeping at the time/what was preserved for the future. And it nicely touches on the tragedy of the loss and lack that passes for familial and cultural history for most descendants of slaves living in the United States today.
This book really is something special and I absolutely respect both Butler and this story for what they are and what they did. I wanted so much to love it, but it just was not my personal style. When I go into sci-fi, I’m anticipating (and looking forward to) something more like Solomon Rovers’ An Unkindness of Ghosts. It may have been a mix of my skewed expectations, as well as a writing style that did not resonate with me as others have, but something here just didn’t hit home for me. However, I definitely enjoyed, and was impressed by, this novel. And the themes are just as important and salient for this country now as they ever were – we must not forget about or lull ourselves into complacency about the state of inequality faced by so many. The status quo can always be changed. I for sure will be checking out more of Butler’s work, with a little more knowledge and preparation this time, and can’t wait to see what I think of it!
“Slavery was a long, slow process of dulling.”
As I have mentioned before, I’m trying to read books from a more representative range of authors this year. I have always read more female authors than male…I just have always gravitated that way. But I realized that I was not doing as well reading books from a variety of racial, ethnic, sexuality, etc. authors. And so I’m trying to be more intentional with the books I pick up this year. Relatedly, as I am sure you can tell from my “read” list that I am super into fantasy/sci-fi, which traditionally is one of the most male, specifically white male, dominated genres. Recently, there have been a lot of women bursting onto the scene, many in YA fantasy/sci-fi (but I’ve also talked recently about how I think the YA/adult line is getting super blurred, so I am not counting all that for now), but still significantly fewer minority authors. I did some research, found out that Octavia Butler is billed as the first black woman to write sci-fi, and just knew that I needed to read her. I started with Kindred because it was her first, so I figured it should be mine too.
Kindred tells the story of Dana, a “modern” (though to be fair, the 1970s are no longer considered all that modern) back woman who is, on a random afternoon right after her 26th birthday, suddenly transported back in time to the antebellum south. It turns out that a distant ancestor of hers, Rufus Weylin, is the white son of a Maryland plantation owner and some kind of connection forms between them, so that when Rufus’ life is in danger, Dana is “called” to help him. Over the period of a few months (in present time anyways), Dana is called back 6 times to rescue Rufus, each time staying longer and longer, getting more immersed in slave life on the plantation and facing more and more danger/harm.
This book is a fascinating mix of sci-fi and historical fiction. In fact, I was surprised by how much more historical fiction it is than sci-fi. I mean yes, there are the obvious time travel and crossing your own historical timeline features, but those moments are quick compared to the rest of the story. Not to say that that’s a bad thing. This is one of the most immersive “salve memoir” pieces of historical fiction that I have ever read. The time that Dana spends in antebellum Maryland are by far the most realistic and visceral parts of the novel. From her complicated relationship with Rufus, as a black woman in a weird slave/freewoman line who holds incredible power over his fate, to Rufus’ own internal struggle over his love for some of his slaves and his growth into a “man of the time” who see those same people as his property, to the reality of life as a house slave versus that of a field-hand to the many intricacies and tensions within the slave community itself and, most importantly, the truths of being a slave and what the absolute lack of rights actually means in real life. This last, the illustration of the myriad dangers, fears, horrible treatment and overall lack of autonomy experienced by slaves in America, is the real crowning exploration of this novel. Throughout the novel, these themes are examined and developed in an incredibly full, multi-dimensional way. We also get small glimpses of life in the mid to late 70s in America, which I’m qualifying as part of the historical fiction aspect of the book at this point. Dana, in her current day life, is married to Kevin, a white man. As we read, we get more details about their relationship and some of the challenges they are facing (primarily with their families) as the US struggles with the ramifications and repercussions of slavery and segregation (not that we’re anywhere near done struggling with those same issues today, of course.)
Something interesting about the writing itself is that, for most of the book. I felt like the writing was very didactic, unemotional, clinical even. Dana’s matter of fact, analytical, responses to everything from the time travel itself, and the reasons why/how it’s happening, to the horrific acts she sees and experiences as a slave seemed…dispassionate. Even the dialogue, including most of her interactions with her husband (where she could be the most unabashedly upset or affection) was closed off and too composed. It was strange because, even if she felt like she couldn’t outwardly show anything or act on any of her feelings, her inner reactions should have had more feeling, more passion. It was a strange writing style for me to adjust to. (Partway through, I thought maybe that was on purpose. Maybe Dana actually wasn’t all that shocked. Perhaps her life in the 70s, the inequality she lived, had prepared her in a way that I cannot ever understand, as a white person. Perhaps I’m over-thinking it.) Relatedly, this book, at times, felt like it was written as a “primer” about slavery. Many of the “philosophical” arguments/discussions Dana has with Rufus and Kevin are written as if the reader has likely never before considered these viewpoints on slavery and slavery-related issues before (for example, her conversation with Kevin about the young black children on the plantation “playing” at auctioning each other off) and Butler is taking things slow, easing them into it, trying not to overwhelm or “blow out of proportion” these feelings. I don’t know if that’s a product of when it was written (and hopefully things have progressed some) or if it’s something else (hopefully it’s that we have moved forward as a country since then, though I really only partly believe that), but I felt it was worth mentioning.
In any case, the style made me feel like I was not getting a sense of tangibility from these characters. The descriptions of the life and experiences were completely immersive, as I mentioned, but the characters themselves were less so. Yet, when I finished reading their stories had somehow transformed into something so solid that I actually felt I had read a true to goodness memoir, and not a work of fiction. I truly cannot say when or how that happened, but I was surprised and impressed by it. The ending itself was also deftly done, a mix of finality and open-endedness that perfectly fit both the story/characters and the reality of record keeping at the time/what was preserved for the future. And it nicely touches on the tragedy of the loss and lack that passes for familial and cultural history for most descendants of slaves living in the United States today.
This book really is something special and I absolutely respect both Butler and this story for what they are and what they did. I wanted so much to love it, but it just was not my personal style. When I go into sci-fi, I’m anticipating (and looking forward to) something more like Solomon Rovers’ An Unkindness of Ghosts. It may have been a mix of my skewed expectations, as well as a writing style that did not resonate with me as others have, but something here just didn’t hit home for me. However, I definitely enjoyed, and was impressed by, this novel. And the themes are just as important and salient for this country now as they ever were – we must not forget about or lull ourselves into complacency about the state of inequality faced by so many. The status quo can always be changed. I for sure will be checking out more of Butler’s work, with a little more knowledge and preparation this time, and can’t wait to see what I think of it!
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
For having just come out a couple months ago, this book made its appearance swiftly and surely. Which, to be honest, fits perfectly with the story itself. In any case, after seeing these great reviews, I read the synopsis and it was all over for me. An epic, sweeping fantasy with a “started from the bottom now we here” type female lead who manages to singlehandedly end a war, set against a backdrop of a world based in Chinese history and mythology. I mean seriously, the reviews could have been lukewarm and I would have been all over this. Plus, #ownvoices. Literally everything was point at me reading this immediately. Which I did. And OMG the hype is real!
Rin is a war orphan, from the last Poppy War, set to marry and older merchant so her “aunt and uncle” can continue their illegal opium dealings unhindered, when she aces the Keju (a national test to find the best candidates to study at the Academies) and wins a free ride to the most elite school in the Empire, Sinegard. During her studies there, Rin is targeted by her classmates for her poverty/color/sex (you name it, the discrimination is there) and pushes herself harder than she thought possible in order to keep up with all her well-off classmates who spent their whole lives preparing for this (whereas she spent her whole life manning the shop that fronted her aunt and uncle’s opium trade). Along the way, she finds that she has a dangerous, buried talent, one that everyone long considered extinct, nothing but rumor and mythology. Studying under a long-ridiculed teacher who supposedly can help her control this gift (though his methods are border-line insane and involve the use of psychoactive substances), Rin has not yet mastered it, or even come close, when the Empire falls into war…again. The treaties from the last Poppy War have dissolved and Rin, along with her fellow students, must fight to defend their nation against invasion. But Rin is learning that her powers, while they have the power to end the war, may come at a price that is too high. But as atrocities pile up, from ether side, and she learns more about her own history, she learns that she may not have a choice but to use them.
That was a long synopsis, sorry, but this is a long book…so there. Anyways, my goodness was this AMAZING. This is some of the most complex and immersive world-building that I have ever experienced. I feel like from page one I had fallen into the world of the Nikan Empire and, as I read, the details that built up just created an ever-stronger presence. To be honest, I think the fact that this is, at least in part, based in China and Chinese history definitely helps. There is a place in the “real world” that I can base my imaginings on. And though the mystical and shamanistic parts of the story are, of course (sadly), fantastical, the world they are based in is very recognizable (if not familiar). Honestly, it’s a very cool combination and it plays together seamlessly. Relatedly, the detail in the political interactions, strategic plans (for both sides), and the general unfolding of the war are so thorough. It seriously reads as if it’s telling real historical events (which, in some cases, actually is – I do not have a lot of knowledge of modern Chinese history, which I definitely regret now, so I cannot say how often this is true or not, but it as least sometimes the case). And I noted while reading that the progression of the book, from studying war/strategy to the practice of it, is one of the most haunting and affecting parts of this novel. As the characters move from the classroom to the real world, we, as readers, do so alongside them in such a tangible way, and it is intense to experience that shock with them. To note here, as we get into the war part of the book, some of the scenes are incredibly graphic. I read other reviews that said this, but was lulled into complacency by the first half of the book, so I’ll repeat the warning here. Some of the scenes were beyond difficult to read, which, to be honest, only added to the “reality” of the world (sadly) and made the immersion that much more complete. (Also, this section is based on the 1937 Rape of Nanjing, an event that – and I didn’t know this until I read the author’s blog about it – some scholars still say this event is fabricated, just like some people say the Holocaust is a hoax. Horrifying and unbelievable, the author’s own words on why she wrote so graphically are definitely worth reading – here’s the link: https://rfkuang.com/2018/05/13/on-the-necessity-of-brutality-why-i-went-there/.)
As far as the characters go, I LOVED Rin. She is, possibly, one of the most dynamic and real protagonists that I have ever read. She is such a phenomenally multifaceted heroine and her struggle within herself, the need for acceptance/to become someone greater and the simultaneous fear of lose herself in the process (in the power) is written to perfection. She is incredible and I love her and I want SO MUCH MORE of her! She is possibly one of my favorite characters ever. Also, as a small side note, I cannot say enough how much I admire the author for addressing and dealing with the issues of menstruation/childbearing during this story. First, for it to be brought up at all is huge. Second, the way Rin handles it (no spoilers) is matter-of-fact and completely realistic to her situation. I truly loved and appreciated it and deeply identify with her decision and the…confusion/awe/condescension…it draws from other characters. Rock on sister. And a huge thank you to the author for it. Anyways, back on track. As for our other characters, there are a few, like Kitay, Jiang, and Altan, whose characters and backgrounds are well-developed and compare (though do not match) Rin for depth. However, moving past them, there are many other side characters who I’d love to get more from. Some, I know, were less developed because we lose them (it’s a war, of course). But others are clearly here for a longer haul and I wish we had gotten more of their stories.
One other thing that I loved was the history and mythology of the book. The detail on the pantheon of gods, the accounts of the beginning of the Empire, the tales of heroism from the first Poppy Wars, etc. are all extensive and fascinating. In addition, some of the theory behind war, that Rin learns partially from school and partially from experience, as well and Jiang’s teachings about the history of gods/shamanism and how they disappeared are astoundingly relatable and understandable. As I said, I love Rin (so much), but honestly, overall, this is a book where the development of the plot and the world itself truly shine through above everything else.
This book blew my mind. It was complex and real and so full of…life. It went where many books won’t – and that reality was both harsh and worthwhile. And, not to overdo it, but the protagonist was everything. I loved this gorgeously terrible book and my fingers are crossed (hard) that the author writes more from this world!
Such beautiful passages/philosophy:
“Success required sacrifice. Sacrifice meant pain. Pain meant success. [...] She made herself miserable. […] But the misery she felt now was a good misery. This misery she reveled in, because she had chosen it for herself.”
“Because if she could just erase her past, then she could write herself into whoever she wanted to be in the present. Student. Scholar. Soldier. Anything except who she used to be.”
“The age of gods is over…The Nikara may speak of shamans in their legends, but they cannot abide the prospect of the supernatural. To them, we are madmen. […] We are not madmen. But how can we convince anyone of this, when the rest of the world believes it so? Once an empire has become convinced of its worldview, anything that evidences the contrary must be erased.”
“War doesn’t determine who’s right. War determines who remains.”
“You’re so young. That was even more frustrating. She wasn’t so young that she didn’t know her country was at war. Not so young that she hadn’t been tasked to defend it. Children ceased to be children when you put a sword in their hands. When you taught them to fight a war, then you armed them and put them on the front lines, they were not children anymore.”
“Fear was impossible to eradicate. But so was the will to survive.”
“It was utter carnage. It was beautiful.”
“If you were the victim, what could you say to make your tormentor recognize you as human? How did you get your enemy to recognize you at all? Any why should an oppressor care?”
“Warfare was about absolutes. Us or them. Victory or defeat. There was no middle way. There was no mercy. No surrender.”
“It was a song of vengeance. It was a horrible song. It was a wonderful song.”
“Destiny is a myth. Destiny is the only myth. The gods choose nothing. You chose.”
“In an instant, the script had written their stories to the end. […] And now the unrealized futures of millions were scorched out of existence, like a sky full of stars suddenly darkened.”
“She was no victim of destiny. She was…a shaman who called the gods to do her bidding. And she would call the gods to do such terrible things.” (WHAT A LAST LINE! In fact, the whole last page is literally amazing, but I can’t rewrite the whole page because it’s too long and also, spoilers, so just go read the book so you can read the last page for yourself!!)
For having just come out a couple months ago, this book made its appearance swiftly and surely. Which, to be honest, fits perfectly with the story itself. In any case, after seeing these great reviews, I read the synopsis and it was all over for me. An epic, sweeping fantasy with a “started from the bottom now we here” type female lead who manages to singlehandedly end a war, set against a backdrop of a world based in Chinese history and mythology. I mean seriously, the reviews could have been lukewarm and I would have been all over this. Plus, #ownvoices. Literally everything was point at me reading this immediately. Which I did. And OMG the hype is real!
Rin is a war orphan, from the last Poppy War, set to marry and older merchant so her “aunt and uncle” can continue their illegal opium dealings unhindered, when she aces the Keju (a national test to find the best candidates to study at the Academies) and wins a free ride to the most elite school in the Empire, Sinegard. During her studies there, Rin is targeted by her classmates for her poverty/color/sex (you name it, the discrimination is there) and pushes herself harder than she thought possible in order to keep up with all her well-off classmates who spent their whole lives preparing for this (whereas she spent her whole life manning the shop that fronted her aunt and uncle’s opium trade). Along the way, she finds that she has a dangerous, buried talent, one that everyone long considered extinct, nothing but rumor and mythology. Studying under a long-ridiculed teacher who supposedly can help her control this gift (though his methods are border-line insane and involve the use of psychoactive substances), Rin has not yet mastered it, or even come close, when the Empire falls into war…again. The treaties from the last Poppy War have dissolved and Rin, along with her fellow students, must fight to defend their nation against invasion. But Rin is learning that her powers, while they have the power to end the war, may come at a price that is too high. But as atrocities pile up, from ether side, and she learns more about her own history, she learns that she may not have a choice but to use them.
That was a long synopsis, sorry, but this is a long book…so there. Anyways, my goodness was this AMAZING. This is some of the most complex and immersive world-building that I have ever experienced. I feel like from page one I had fallen into the world of the Nikan Empire and, as I read, the details that built up just created an ever-stronger presence. To be honest, I think the fact that this is, at least in part, based in China and Chinese history definitely helps. There is a place in the “real world” that I can base my imaginings on. And though the mystical and shamanistic parts of the story are, of course (sadly), fantastical, the world they are based in is very recognizable (if not familiar). Honestly, it’s a very cool combination and it plays together seamlessly. Relatedly, the detail in the political interactions, strategic plans (for both sides), and the general unfolding of the war are so thorough. It seriously reads as if it’s telling real historical events (which, in some cases, actually is – I do not have a lot of knowledge of modern Chinese history, which I definitely regret now, so I cannot say how often this is true or not, but it as least sometimes the case). And I noted while reading that the progression of the book, from studying war/strategy to the practice of it, is one of the most haunting and affecting parts of this novel. As the characters move from the classroom to the real world, we, as readers, do so alongside them in such a tangible way, and it is intense to experience that shock with them. To note here, as we get into the war part of the book, some of the scenes are incredibly graphic. I read other reviews that said this, but was lulled into complacency by the first half of the book, so I’ll repeat the warning here. Some of the scenes were beyond difficult to read, which, to be honest, only added to the “reality” of the world (sadly) and made the immersion that much more complete. (Also, this section is based on the 1937 Rape of Nanjing, an event that – and I didn’t know this until I read the author’s blog about it – some scholars still say this event is fabricated, just like some people say the Holocaust is a hoax. Horrifying and unbelievable, the author’s own words on why she wrote so graphically are definitely worth reading – here’s the link: https://rfkuang.com/2018/05/13/on-the-necessity-of-brutality-why-i-went-there/.)
As far as the characters go, I LOVED Rin. She is, possibly, one of the most dynamic and real protagonists that I have ever read. She is such a phenomenally multifaceted heroine and her struggle within herself, the need for acceptance/to become someone greater and the simultaneous fear of lose herself in the process (in the power) is written to perfection. She is incredible and I love her and I want SO MUCH MORE of her! She is possibly one of my favorite characters ever. Also, as a small side note, I cannot say enough how much I admire the author for addressing and dealing with the issues of menstruation/childbearing during this story. First, for it to be brought up at all is huge. Second, the way Rin handles it (no spoilers) is matter-of-fact and completely realistic to her situation. I truly loved and appreciated it and deeply identify with her decision and the…confusion/awe/condescension…it draws from other characters. Rock on sister. And a huge thank you to the author for it. Anyways, back on track. As for our other characters, there are a few, like Kitay, Jiang, and Altan, whose characters and backgrounds are well-developed and compare (though do not match) Rin for depth. However, moving past them, there are many other side characters who I’d love to get more from. Some, I know, were less developed because we lose them (it’s a war, of course). But others are clearly here for a longer haul and I wish we had gotten more of their stories.
One other thing that I loved was the history and mythology of the book. The detail on the pantheon of gods, the accounts of the beginning of the Empire, the tales of heroism from the first Poppy Wars, etc. are all extensive and fascinating. In addition, some of the theory behind war, that Rin learns partially from school and partially from experience, as well and Jiang’s teachings about the history of gods/shamanism and how they disappeared are astoundingly relatable and understandable. As I said, I love Rin (so much), but honestly, overall, this is a book where the development of the plot and the world itself truly shine through above everything else.
This book blew my mind. It was complex and real and so full of…life. It went where many books won’t – and that reality was both harsh and worthwhile. And, not to overdo it, but the protagonist was everything. I loved this gorgeously terrible book and my fingers are crossed (hard) that the author writes more from this world!
Such beautiful passages/philosophy:
“Success required sacrifice. Sacrifice meant pain. Pain meant success. [...] She made herself miserable. […] But the misery she felt now was a good misery. This misery she reveled in, because she had chosen it for herself.”
“Because if she could just erase her past, then she could write herself into whoever she wanted to be in the present. Student. Scholar. Soldier. Anything except who she used to be.”
“The age of gods is over…The Nikara may speak of shamans in their legends, but they cannot abide the prospect of the supernatural. To them, we are madmen. […] We are not madmen. But how can we convince anyone of this, when the rest of the world believes it so? Once an empire has become convinced of its worldview, anything that evidences the contrary must be erased.”
“War doesn’t determine who’s right. War determines who remains.”
“You’re so young. That was even more frustrating. She wasn’t so young that she didn’t know her country was at war. Not so young that she hadn’t been tasked to defend it. Children ceased to be children when you put a sword in their hands. When you taught them to fight a war, then you armed them and put them on the front lines, they were not children anymore.”
“Fear was impossible to eradicate. But so was the will to survive.”
“It was utter carnage. It was beautiful.”
“If you were the victim, what could you say to make your tormentor recognize you as human? How did you get your enemy to recognize you at all? Any why should an oppressor care?”
“Warfare was about absolutes. Us or them. Victory or defeat. There was no middle way. There was no mercy. No surrender.”
“It was a song of vengeance. It was a horrible song. It was a wonderful song.”
“Destiny is a myth. Destiny is the only myth. The gods choose nothing. You chose.”
“In an instant, the script had written their stories to the end. […] And now the unrealized futures of millions were scorched out of existence, like a sky full of stars suddenly darkened.”
“She was no victim of destiny. She was…a shaman who called the gods to do her bidding. And she would call the gods to do such terrible things.” (WHAT A LAST LINE! In fact, the whole last page is literally amazing, but I can’t rewrite the whole page because it’s too long and also, spoilers, so just go read the book so you can read the last page for yourself!!)