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

I read The Wedding Date last year, Guillory’s first novel, and it was so good! I enjoyed the heat and the focus on food and the story in general, especially how strong and ambitious the female lead was. Anyways, when her second book, The Proposal, came out, I wasn’t as interested (sports based romance isn’t my favorite sub-genre, as was reiterated when I read Intercepted earlier this year). And then her third and fourth books came out and I was just so behind! But I always knew I’d read more from Guillory. So when my long distance book club was looking for a Christmas themed book as our December read, I knew this was the one I’d recommend. Plus, it pulled double duty as my choice for the last month’s prompt for the Just One More Pa(i)ge Reading Challenge 2019, “End of Year Happy Days,” or a rom-com/uplifting read. Trying to end the year on a positive note and it worked out nicely with this choice!

When Maddie gets a job doing some fashion work for the Royal Family in England over Christmas, she invites her mother, Vivian, along with her for the Holidays. Vivian is a social worker in CA and, while she loves her job, doesn’t usually take time for herself. Maddie convinces her to come on the last-minute vacation and one her first day in England, she runs into Malcolm, the Queen’s private secretary…and a very attractive man just around her age. They are immediately drawn to each other and end up spending most of Vivian’s trip together. But they’re both too old for “falling in love” and long-distance relationships, right?

This was such a sweet and adorable romance. There were so many things about it that I loved. For example, this is the first romance I’ve read based on 50ish year old main characters and it was so refreshing. It was great to see a focus on how, at any age, romance and sexual desire are present and strong and deserve to be followed through on. Plus, it’s great to read characters whose” drama” is so grounded. They have real life problems and challenges that they have to deal with, but it is done so maturely and with perspective that comes with years. It may not always be the kind of story I want, but in this case, I really liked and respected the representation. And it was important in making the ending believably handled, in both timeframe and action. Very nicely written by Guillory.

The other thing I really liked is that both had had a failed long-term relationship/marriage in the past and we very clear and candid about what they had learned from those experiences and what they were looking for in moving into another one. For example, Vivian’s openness about how she feels about surprises, and then her admittance about why, and how (maybe just a little), those feelings changed when in a healthier relationship, was so gratifying to read – I wanted to cheer every time she spoke her truth with such conviction and was ready to deal with the consequences. Relatedly, I truly loved the accepting way Malcom accepted her truths and advice…especially in the times where his first reactions weren’t perfect/fair/constructive. I think it’s so important to show healthy communication within disagreements, because that’s truly the basis for the strongest relationships.

The last specific thing I want to call out is Vivian’s career path storyline. Oh my goodness, this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever experience in a story, not in the least because I truly identify with it, but also because it’s not something I’ve ever read, I don’t think. I am 100% pro all feminist ambition in the workplace and WOC especially being in positions of power that they deserve, and as an inspiration to others. But being in a position of power is not everyone’s dream. And it is just as feminist, if perhaps more quietly so, to find the space in the world that makes you most happy, and where you can make a difference, and excelling there…without wanting to be the “leader” in that area. And Vivian’s path to that self-understanding and self-acceptance is spectacular. Excellence comes in many forms and hers is so inspiring to, at the very least, me.

Other than that, this was just so fun to read. Although the writing felt just a little unpolished, particularly at the beginning, it leveled out as the story went, and the dialogue even picked up to be quick and witty the further into it I got. Plus, I loved England as a setting and Guillory did so much with it! Also, my parents lived in London for a few months and I really enjoyed revisiting (in such an uplifting way) some of my most favorite moments from visiting them – including the Victoria and Albert Museum and fireworks over the city on New Year’s Eve (my favorite holiday!). This novel is perhaps not as overtly steamy as The Wedding Date, but with the combination of the characters’ ages and Malcolm’s British-ness (and job visibility) it made sense. And don’t worry, there is still definitely some steam. At one point in the book, Malcom describes Vivian as “bright and vibrant and sparkling” and I have to say, I think that just about perfectly sums up the whole book.

This novel did with words what Thandi's sketches did visually for her mother and sister. Such a precise, piercing snapshot of local lives in Jamaica - a view of day to day in a place that visitors see only as a paradise. So many difficult topics were touched on here, with the decision by decision struggle that each primary female character faced daily: doing whatever seemed best for those they cared about. But for each of them, the pressures they face from themselves and each other created a paradigm in which every sacrifice they made for the sake of the others, every difficult decision that was made with long term "betterment" in mind, began to cause harm in the short term. So much harm, in fact, that by the end each of these four women had pushed the others so far away that their lives no longer overlapped at all. Dolores, a mother who sold her older daughter's innocence over and over to help put food on the table and "fix" her devilish attraction to women and pressured her younger daughter to go to school and become a doctor to "save the family". Margot, that older daughter who in turn sold herself and other young girls in order to make money, to get ahead in a man's world, to send her younger sister to school and to get out of the poor/run-down area they called home (and to have a chance at a real life with a woman she loved). Thandi, the younger daughter/sister who never know who she was because she spent so much time conforming to other's expectations, who tried to hide the scars of her past and ignore her heart to be that perfect person who would "pay them back tenfold once she gets out and becomes a doctor," who gets caught between two worlds - talking too smart and being too sheltered to fit in with her own family and childhood friends while also being too poor and black to fit in at school. And Verdene, Margot's somtimes lover who is just looking for someone to love and to love her back, to come to terms with her past, her guilt, to attempt to re-become part of a community that shuns her because she has nowhere else to go. And the side characters who all had their own hard-hitting stories in turn, Charles, Miss Violet, Jullette, Nova Scott-Henry, and whose interactions together weave a full tapestry of a neighborhood under a burning sun in a part of the country that everyone finds it easier to pretend doesn't exist. Each of these characters do what they think they need to for survival, to get ahead, and learn (in their different ways) that perhaps some things aren't worth it, that maybe money can't buy happiness when love and innocence are what you sacrifice to get it, but by the time you learn that it's too late. And how would you ever know that if you've never had access to the money you need to survive? This is a harsh, compelling depiction of the hard sides and sharp edges of life, but a gorgeous representation and ode to the lives of those that live it, written with a perfect cadence to pay homage to this island.

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

Last year, around this time, I read my first Zadie Smith novel, NW. To be honest, as I said at the time, it was not my favorite…I was a little disappointed by it, after hearing so many amazing things about Smith. However, she has written so many books and I knew someday I would try another one, just to make sure it wasn’t a one-time mismatch between book and reader (which has definitely happened to me before). And it was a good thing, because this one was, at least for me, so much better. So, cheers to my book club for picking this one as the December read!

Samad and Archie met during WWII and have, for some reason, managed to stay friends throughout the years since, despite the many differences in their past and interests and beliefs. This novel follows them and their families, now all living in London, including their choice of wives (or, in some cases, second wives), their children (and their children’s relationships with each other), all against a backdrop of modernization that occurs during the latter half of the 20th century.

So, as I said, I liked this book so, so much better than the first I read by Smith. But when someone asked me why, as in what was it about the first book that didn’t work for me and what was different about this book that did, I legitimately struggled to answer. Both explore small areas of London, the people that live there, their interactions with each other, the way their pasts/cultures/beliefs affect them, and just generally are pictures of the day to day lives of people… There is so much that they have in common, that is similar about the settings and structures, and yet for some reason, NW fell flat for me and this one seemed so much more full of life and humor. Thinking back, I know that, at least in part, it was due to the distance between myself and the characters that sprang up on account of the experimental writing style. But also, I enjoyed this cast a little more, as far as their personalities, the interactions they had with each other, and the way their individual stories all came back around to end together with a proverbial (and kind of real life) bang. In fact, that reconnecting of all the points of the plot was really well done – I wasn’t sure until it actually happened how it was going to play out. And I appreciate that. Even though I did feel like overall the build-up tended to be a bit long, and there were some small moments where the book dragged, the audiobook helped pull me along through them. And it did help make the depth of the characters more intense, and the understanding for how they got to the point where they played their respective roles towards the end, more complete.

The real gem of this novel though, is the writing. I cannot believe that Smith was so young (only like 22?) when this, her first novel, was published. The voice is so precise, insightful, and full of a knowledge that seems beyond that number of years. The tone is exquisitely biting, a perfect satirical look at cultural values, science vs religion, the interplay of nature and nurture, tradition vs modernization, and what leads a person to radicalization (of any kind). The dark humor in the observations of the absurd/ridiculous in everyday life was definitely the highlight of this novel.
Overall, this was an incredibly ambitious story, in scope of characters and time and topics addressed. While there were some moments that felt a little weird, or moved a little slowly, on the whole, this was an incredibly impressive book. And I totally have a better understanding of the hype about Smith’s writing now. Always a good lesson to re-learn – in the same way shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, you shouldn’t always judge an author by the first thing you read by them…

“If religion is the opiate of the people, tradition is an even more sinister analgesic, simply because it rarely seems more sinister. If religion is a tight band, a throbbing vein, and a needle, tradition is a far homelier concoction: poppy seeds ground into tea; a sweet cocoa drink laced with cocaine; the kind of thing your grandmother might have made.”

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

This has been on my TBR for a few years now, but no libraries near me have had it. And this past year has been a strict one, financially, so buying it wasn’t necessarily an option for me. Anyways, in an exciting turn, it was chosen for re-publication this year! Which meant a few things. First, that a lot of book influencers started hearing about and reading it (always nice to see what other reviewers I respect think of a book I want to read). Also, that the new version was going to be available in my libraries since the re-issue was with a bigger publisher. Yes! So I had to wait for all the pre-order hype to grab everyone’s attention and make my “want” to read it even worse, then wait for the library to order it (and for it to come in), until finally about two weeks ago I was able to pick it up on the holds shelf. Woohoo!

In Juliet Takes a Breath, our MC and heroine, Juliet, is a 19-year-old Puerto Rican girl living in the Bronx and secretly dating the love of her life, Lainie. When she writes a litter to Harlowe Brisbane, the author of “Raging Flower: Empowering Your Pussy by Empowering Your Mind” and is chosen to come and work for Harlowe as an intern over the summer, things will never be the same. She leaves her home after coming out to her parents, in a confrontation that didn’t go as she hoped and left a rift between Juliet and her mother, and sets off into a world unlike one she’s ever known: Portland, OR. While there, she learns about everything from vegan food to using her mind to control her body’s reactions (in response to things like period cramps) to writing sci-fi to the myriad vocabulary and preferences that make up the LGBTQ+ community to the complications of adult love and intersectionality in feminism. And more than that, Juliet learns to own who she is, love who she is, and be who she is for herself and herself alone.

This year’s reading is really ending in a bang, across the genre spectrum, for me. In the last few weeks I’ve read and posted for a number of 5-star reviews, like Well Met, SLAY, Sabrina & Corina, and now I have to add Juliet to that list. Oh my goodness, this is one of the most powerful coming-of-age, coming-of-sexuality, coming-of-womanhood and just general coming-of-power novels that I have ever read. The writing itself is a mix of poetic and hard-hitting, full of gorgeous descriptions of Juliet’s feelings and mystical feminine energy juxtaposed against clear and deservedly severe critiques of universal feminism (and general moments of tough love), with highlights from the unique staccato harshness of teenage slang. In fact, as I was reading it, like less than 30 pages in, I would say, I actually wrote a note (yes, I take notes on my thoughts while reading – it helps me craft these reviews afterwards) that says “I already literally said out loud ‘this is gorgeous’ to myself, so there’s that.”

As for the story itself, it was so much more than I was expecting (and I can’t even lie, I was definitely expecting a lot). Juliet’s summer in Portland (including a very educational and fun weekend in Miami to visit her favorite cousin in the middle) was potentially just as eye-opening for me as it was for Juliet. She learns so much about what it means to be a woman, a queer woman (and whether she even feels like she can identify as a queer woman because that’s not a word she’s heard used before), a queer woman of color. And through her eyes, I too learned what that could mean and look like, how it can affect a person, as well. As a self-described baby dyke, Juliet travels into a world that is almost as opposite from the one she grew up as it could be, and even though it’s new and overwhelming and confusing and definitely a bit terrifying, and even though sometimes she hides in her room or runs away to deal with the heartbreak (like breakups and her mentor turning out not to be the shining do-no-wrong hero she’d created in her head) this learning-summer throws at her, in the end, she comes out stronger and more sure of herself and who she is and how she identifies and, possibly most importantly, how to respect other people’s experiences and journeys and let them take the lead in their own lives and that’s it’s ok (great, even) to ask questions. The humility needed to admit lack of knowledge, and the importance of the curiosity and self-recognition/confidence needed to ask and move towards understanding (instead of making harmful assumptions), cannot be understated. That, and Juliet’s personal growth across many spectrums, are the two primary, and perfect, focal points of this novel.

There were moments while I was reading that made me cringe, as I saw from the outside the way that Harlowe’s particular (universal) brand of feminism and womanhood was exclusionary, both racially and in a TERF-like way, in action if not in intention. And those moments made me, a white woman who would consider herself both a feminist and LGBTQ (I, like early Juliet, and not sure that queer is the right word for me to use to categorize my bisexuality), think hard about my own past. I know that there were moments when I made similar mistakes, because I have the luxury of being able to make them. And it is embarrassing and made me (really anyone, I would think, based on Harlowe’s reactions) want to be defensive…because that wasn’t my goal. But just because it wasn’t done on purpose doesn’t mean the damage is different/less. And the way this book highlights that, calls it out, asks for more and better from white women queers and feminists, is necessarily ruthless. I’m taking what I’ve already learned and implemented from those experiences and adding what I learned from this book, to continue work towards becoming the accomplice (vocabulary choice as requested by the author in the Q&A at the end) I should be. Discomfort is a chance to ask and grow – and I want to do that. But all that is not the point nor the note I want to end on. It’s a personal reflection that I wanted to share, since reading this prompted the reflection. But that centers the review and story on me, which it shouldn’t be. And so…back to the important things:

This stunning novel pulls no punches and tells no lies. This inside is just as striking as the cover art (and OMG what a perfect and eye-catching cover it is) and I feel deeply affected by it. The language, the intersectional feminine power, the acceptance/love (both self and otherwise), the celebration of what books and writing can do for us, and the hard lessons Juliet learns all come together to form one of the best, most honest, vibrant, forceful and extraordinary YA stories/heroines I’ve ever read. I know that by the end Juliet learns how to takes a breath, but her story straight stole mine away.

“I fall asleep with that book in my arms because words protect hearts and I’ve got this ache in my chest that won’t go away.”

“We lived loud and hard against a neighborhood built to contain us. We moved like the earth pushing its way through cement sidewalks.”

“Libraries were where nerds like me went to refuel. They were safe havens where the polluted noise of the outside world, with the bullies and bro-dudes and antifeminist rhetoric, was all shut out. Libraries had zero tolerance for bullshit. Their walls protected us and kept us safe from all the bastards that never read a book for fun.”

“How could anything as huge as feminism be universal?”

“Mi amor, only you can change your world.”

“People you love fuck up […] You weed out the assholes from the warriors. Pick up on folks who aren’t soft spaces for your heart. Move with forgiveness but listen to your instincts when it comes to eradicating the unworthy from your spirit.”

“All the women in my life were telling me the same thing. My story, my truth, my life, my voice, all of that had to be protected and put out into the world by me. No one else. No one could take that from me. I had to let go of my fear. I didn’t know what I was afraid of. I wondered if Id ever speak my truth.”

“‘I thought I needed you to change my world, […] But what I really needed was a push […] And now it’s on me. I gotta shout when I need to and ask more questions. And demand better of myself and everything around me.’”

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

I was sent a review copy of this one a few months ago (thanks ECCO books) and am just now getting to it. To be honest, I can’t say it sounded overly much like I’d be into it. So, I wasn’t rushing to get to it. Plus, I’ve been working hard to focus on female and POC authors, so that probably played into my delay as well. I can’t even really say what prompted me to start it what I did, but for some reason, as I was scrolling through a next audiobook to check out from the library, it popped up as available and I just went for it.

Lillian and Madison met as roommates at an elite boarding school – Lillian there on scholarship and Madison coming from family money. They became pretty fast friends though, after bonding over playing basketball and being a little weird, “off” if you will, together. Even after Lillian was kicked out of school and their lives took very different paths, they stayed in touch. One day, out of the blue, Madison reaches out to Lillian asking for a favor – that she come act as “governess” to Madison’s two stepkids who are moving in with her. Even though Lillian has no training in the area, nor does she have any experience with kids, Maidson needs her, because she can trust her, and she needs someone who can keep a secret. The twins, Roland and Bessie, have a special affliction…sometimes they spontaneously combust. It sounds unbelievable, but it’s true. Over the course of a single summer of trail and error, Lillian and the twins learn to trust each other and a special bond is forged among them.

Well, this book was a complete surprise for me. Perhaps it’s partially because my expectations weren’t super high to start, but all I can say is that they were blown out of the water. This was such an incredibly quirky way to explore what being a parent, being a family, actually means. Coming from a very broken home herself, with a less than involved mother, Lillian feels acutely ill equipped to step into the role Madison is asking her to play. However, she’s at a point in her life that lends itself to her saying yes and her agreement throws her into some relationships that end up being so much more than she was ready for, emotionally and intellectually. It’s very true. And yet, even though she faces some ridiculous challenges, humorous in both the normal way that kids can be, and in the satirical way the story presents (that they burst into flame when agitated), she manages it all in a stride she didn’t even know she had. Honestly, she kind of crushes it. On a number of levels. And as a reader I was just as surprised as Lillian was – and I loved reading as she discovers her own strengths and abilities. It’s big-hearted and heart-warming in a very peculiar and unexpected way, as we watch Lillian step up on behalf of the twins and the way they warm to her as a result. The relationship what grows between Lillian and Roland and Bessie, while awkward and oddball, is one that perfectly fits the story and the life experiences of the three to date, and it was written with precision and accuracy, in that sense.

Also worth mentioning is the satirical humor about political life in this novel. Madison’s marriage to a high-powered politician, the way she got there and the commentary on them together (both from Lillian’s thoughts and from Madison herself) was fodder for quite a bit of smirk-level, witty entertainment that I quite enjoyed. Plus, the way that the spontaneously combusting step-kids allowed some great observations about life in the spotlight as a politician and the outrageous degree it affects other parts of life, family decisions, etc. But the absurdity of these extreme circumstances allows for it to maintain its comedy and its satirical scrutiny, without crossing the line into something that would cause the reader to get defensive or turned off. A fine line, well walked.

Two more small comments to wrap up. First, I listened to the audiobook in addition to reading the physical book and loved the narrator’s voice. It was perfect for Lillian and it legitimately enhanced my experience with this novel. Second, there were a number of ways that fire and catching fire were used metaphorically, as well as literally, throughout the novel. And I want to say how impressed I am that this incredibly obvious device was used so smoothly – it could easily have felt like it Wilson was slapping you in the face with it, but it never did. *slow clap* With the Holidays, it’s taken me over a week to find the time to sit down and write this review and I’m actually really glad about that. This story has a real slow-burn feel to it (pun intended) and I find that little sections and passages (both humorous and meaningful ones) keep popping up into my head. I am thinking that this novel is going to be one that sticks with me for quite some time. It was so…oddly poignant and I just can’t get over it.

“A lot of times when I think I’m being self-sufficient, I’m really just learning to live without the things that I need.”“How did people protect themselves? How did anyone keep this world from ruining them? I wanted to know. I wanted to know so bad.”

“‘Who would judge you?’ she asked. ‘Who do you know who’s done a good job? Name one parent you think made it through without fucking their kid up in some specific way.’”

“‘That’s fixing something,’ she said. You stop it from getting worse.’”

This was a strange read. A little magical realism, a little sci-fi, a little end of the world, and a little love story. All around thumbs up for the geeky kids who never fit in who grew up to be the forces that both threatened to ruin and ultimately saved our world. I can only imagine that it will always be like that. I normally really like this type of genre, so I thought I'd love this book. And while I did like it, I think it lost me in a few places. The mix of magic and technology was a really cool and original idea, and I truly loved Peregrine. But to be honest, I think mixing them together meant that neither got the explanation they deserved, which in turn created a story that I felt was always wafting right above my head, cloudlike - amorphous, untethered, opaque. Like the ending, where the Tree and Peregrine become one...I just didn't quite grasp what I think I was supposed to grasp. Also, Patricia and Laurence were really cool characters to read, but I feel like everyone else in the story was just not solid enough - like they floated past P and L and kinda were in the lives but at the same time just were never actually real people. It was a really interesting concept and enjoyable doomsday/start of a new future tale, but just didn't quite fully hit home for me.

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

This has been on my TBR since it came out last year, because I LOVE the story of Anastasia. My favorite movie growing up was the animated Anastasia (who can resist that little bat sidekick, Bartok?!). But seriously, the story has always fascinated me and even though it’s long been proven that Anastasia died at the same time as the rest of her family, the mystery and excitement of the potential in that “lost princess” idea captivates me. Maybe that (and again the cute animal sidekicks like Maximus and Pasqual) is why Tangled is my favorite Disney movie too. Anyways, I love that story, I love a good retelling, and I apparently have a particular soft spot for YA sci-fi and fantasy retellings (I really enjoyed Brightliy Burning a few years ago), so I knew I wanted to read this one.

Ana doesn’t remember the horrific fire that left her with scars all over her face. All she remembers is herself and her best friend, a sentient android named D09, being rescued from space by the outlaw crew aboard the Dossier. Since then, the crew has been her family. But D09 has been glitching lately, and Ana’s attempts to discover how to fix him lead to more discoveries (and trouble) than she could have imagined, including a new “friend” in a spoiled Ironblood royal, some terrifying new enemies that are looking to finish the job that was started in that fire years ago, and some truly difficult choices that will change her life forever.

Wow – first of all, this story was nonstop. The pacing was superb from beginning to end and I felt like I was in a page-turning, edge of my seat race to finish as soon as possible, to find out what happens. The writing itself felt overall smooth, which contributed the fantastically fast pace of the novel, and the dialogue was easy and real. I also loved the language of this sci-fi based world, the “iron and stars” beliefs and oaths and general mythology was fascinating and incorporated really efficiently. I fell right into it and I love when that happens. The characters are generally pretty average, past the main few. The outlaw crew trope is nothing new, but it is one that I love (Firefly and Wayfarers anyone?), so I enjoyed them. Similarly, Ana as the brave and plucky heroine and Robb as the errant high-class boy needing a purpose/morals are common tropes. But I really liked that they were thrown on their heads a bit in the romance department – Ana being firmly committed to D09 and Robb following an interest (that just might, definitely, inconveniently?, be returned…wink) in the ship’s captain, Jax. That was an unexpected original twist that hit nicely. The way D09 being an android affects how that plays out between him and Ana, with the HIVE and Great Dark, and how his (partial?) lack of humanity is used against them, is interesting and I can’t wait to see how it plays out further. Also, in case you want to know what I think, Robb and Jax 4EVA! Haha.

There were a few things that were a little less that perfect about this book though. First, there were many, what felt like so many, little plot twists and turns as we read. There are many characters here whose personalities push them to act individually, so there are constantly multiple plans and secrets in play that interact (sometimes conveniently, and sometimes not so much) with each other as they paly out. This was part of what made the book so un-put-down-able. And I do agree that it makes sense within the boundaries of the characters’ personalities and individualized knowledge/trust so far, to work so separately. But the sheer number of mini-plans meant that a few of them didn’t get explained quite fully enough, at least for me. And some of the inferences and mental jumps that were made as a result seemed a bit lucky/farfetched. I definitely had no issues suspending disbelief for the sake of the overall story, and I pushed through confusing connections and kept reading, assuming (correctly) that things would either be explained or not be important enough to matter, so it didn’t ruin my reading experience. But it did color it slightly and I felt it worth noting/warning future readers about. The last thing is that I’m still on the fence about the “big bad.” I liked the mini twist at the end about who’s actually running the show (relatedly, kudos to the author for pulling the trigger on injuries and deaths in the types of violent circumstances she’s writing), but (tiny spoiler) I am still not sure I’m sold on, or fully understand, the connection between the plague and the Metals and the HIVE and the Great Dark and how it all works (it’s a bit nebulous for me at this point still.) But I’m staying open-minded going into the second book and hoping for it to get pulled together well. In fact, my hold on it just came in at the library and I’m off to pick it up tomorrow – woohoo!

Bottom line here, I really enjoyed this read. I was incredibly entertained, interested and invested in the characters’ relationships and how the plot would play out. There were some tropes, but also some spins on them, and some plot moves that subverted my expectations, so overall: nothing groundbreaking, but I’m definitely into it enough to finish the duology. And, possibly most important, the retelling of Anastasia part of the novel was great – excellently juxtaposing some of the major parts of that legend with infusions of new and creative variations.

“Everything hurt like despair hurt, an ache so deep in his chest, it felt like a whole at the center of the cosmos. Like hope hurt, too, rising, suffocating, a tingling in the back of his throat. Everything hurt like laughter hurt, all over his sides and abdomen. Like anger hurt, nails buried into his palms. Like happiness, rushing across his fiber optics like fizzy soda. Like heartache. Like love. Longing.”

“Because I will follow you anywhere… To the ends of the galaxy, if I have to. I want to exist where you exist, and that is enough.”

“Screw fate. I’ll tear down the stars for you.”

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

“Love didn’t have to be a big thing. It just had to be present…”

Followed up quickly on my reading of Heart of Iron with the sequel, and the wrap-up of the duology, Soul of Stars. Since the first one was so nonstop, it left me wanting to get to the end of the story as soon as possible. So I grabbed it from the library the next day (thankfully it was available and I didn’t have to sit on a waitlist for it) and here we are.

At the end of Heart of Iron, the whole crew of the Dossier is together, new members and all, with the exception of Di… His “body” was taken over by the evil HIVE. And Ana will take all the risks in her desperation to find a way to save Di. When those risks lead the crew into some even worse situations than before, they end up having to go to every extreme not only to save themselves and Di, but also their entire world, from an even bigger evil than they thought: the Great Dark.

The story that began as a reasonably familiar one, that of the “lost princess” Anastasia, took some massive turns away from the recognizable in this follow-up. Which, honestly, is good. I feel like Ana finding out who she really was ended the tale we all know…and how she takes up her new mantle is a new story. In this case, it comes with defeating the Great Dark and saving her world. So, overall, I really liked that redirect in the story. And, where I ended the last one being very confused about the Great Dark and what the story behind that evil is, this one mostly cleared that up. I still think there isn’t a good enough “back story” to why the Great Dark exists, what its goals are, where it came from, etc. but I am willing to accept that it’s been around so long that legends of its origins are forgotten. It’s an easy out, but for the sake of the story, I’ll go with it. On the other hand, the explanations about the combination of magic and technology/science that make up the HIVE and the Great Dark were much better elaborated on here. That combination is one that I don’t often see (really the only other example of it I can think of it Charlie Jane Anders’ All the Birds in the Sky, which was not my favorite), but at least I ended up understanding it by the end. So again, I’m reasonably happy with that. The last plot point I’ll discuss, and vaguely, in an effort to avoid any spoilers, is the ending. I like the semi-open-ended-ness of it all. The fact that this was not, necessarily, the be-all-end-all of the Great Dark was unique. And it helped avoid too much heavy-handedness a far as “chosen one” and “the one way to destroy it” tropes. Maybe not everyone is into that, but I liked the distinctiveness of it. It may have been done a bit too vaguely, but I applaud the effort.

As for the rest, the characters definitely stole the show for me. As I said before, I am a sucker for a rag-tag outlaw group, so the bonds of crew of the Dossier remains my favorite aspect. I loved that they added a new person, Elara, and the role she played…and her Metal, Xu, but they were more of a background character than anything else. I loved what we learned about Siege’s background, the continued impressiveness as far as the reach of her connections, her love for her crew, and the way she has “adopted” Ana, Jax and, now, Robb especially. In connection with that, what we learn about Di’s background, basically his origin story, if you will, was incredibly interesting (and enlightening). Ana’s story, while ostensibly the primary focus, was good as well. Not my favorite of the bunch, after we are finished with her Anastasia parallels, but that’s personal preference more than anything else. But the biggest thing I want to point out, a repeat from my last review (and repeated again here, louder, for those in the back) is: ROBB and JAX 4EVA! Yaaaaaassssss – I love them both. Their stories separately are two of the most compelling, as far as growth, and their story together just hits all the right swoon vibes. They’re definitely my favorites – the highlight(s) for me, for sure.

I have to be honest, I thought this duology opened a bit stronger than it finished (as in, the first book was better than this second installment). But even still, the pacing and action of the plot in this second book was nonstop and the character interactions and relationships were all well written and generally compelling. I liked the way everything was wrapped up – it was satisfying and emotionally evocative (I teared up a bit). A very fun and entertaining YA sci-fi duology, one that I quite enjoyed overall.

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

This is the first book of the year that I chose to read as part of The Reading Women Challenge 2020, for Prompt #2: Translated from an Asian Language. It’s been on my radar for awhile now, but I’m already picking up books I would have continued to put off, thanks to this challenge. Yay!

The Vegetarian tells the story of Yeong-hye, who, after years of living a very ordinary and acceptable life alongside her husband, has a nightmare that causes her to become a vegetarian. This goes against all cultural norms and familial expectations and starts a downward slide of mental health as Yeong-hye struggles to follow her convictions in the face of family disapproval and various violences.

This novel was told in three sections, the first from Yeong-hye’s husband’s POV, then her brother-in-law’s, then her sister’s. Despite the differences in the POVs though, I do feel like the voice stayed a little too similar among the three. The language changed a bit, but it was all written very formally and matter-of-fact-ly, even the parts that were from an artistic or introspective perspective. And at times, I felt like the dialogue seemed a bit stilted. However, there is every chance that that’s due to cultural reasons/differences, the fact that it’s a translation, or really just the author’s style (it seemed purposeful, at the very least). So, these all potentially being the case, I tried to move past that and not be bothered by it as much as I normally might be.

Other than the writing, the main thing that struck me about this novel is that it is crazy weird. Like, every section had parts that were so, so strange and, often, quite uncomfortable to read. From the (quite graphic) descriptions Yeong-hye’s nightmares in the first part, to her brother-in-law’s fantasies and (super creepy) abuses of her condition in section two, to her in-patient treatment and actions/experiences in the third section. In each case, I was so glad that I was listening to this book alone in my car, because seriously ‘WTF?’ In the second part in particular, Yeong-hye’s brother-in-law was so icky, made me cringe so hard, and I felt disconcertingly voyeuristic reading/listening to that entire part. I can’t necessarily say that I liked/enjoyed the reading experience, but I also have to mention how captivating it was. A super disquieting combination. And I really respect the author’s ability to create that feeling, if nothing else.

As far as the themes/topics, this is the hardest part of the review for me to write. I have been sitting on this book for awhile, having finished about a week ago, and am still struggling with my thoughts here. So I guess it won’t ever get clearer and I should just go for it. On the surface, at a very literal level, this was a story of a complete mental health breakdown. For Yeong-hye, the combination of the onset of nightmares (and subsequent inability to sleep), the malnutrition based on becoming a strict vegetarian/vegan without proper nutrient substitutes/planning, the dismissal and abuses from her family related to this decision, the traumatizing childhood memories related to meat/animals, the (more or less culturally accepted) violence against her body perpetrated by her husband/father/brother-in-law, and what seems like a lifelong predilection towards mental instability all combine into a downward spiral that, in the end, she cannot escape. It’s difficult to read and watch, but very circumstantially understandable and incredibly compelling. At the same time, as described by most other reviewers and blurbs, there is a (Kafka-esque) metaphorical and transformational level to the story as well. Now, I will straight-up admit I am not really a Kafka fan, so I can’t say a spent a lot of my reading time trying to delve into these metaphorical levels. But I did recognize and appreciate the simultaneous commentary on violence against women’s bodies, bodily autonomy for women and the lengths they must sometimes go to in order to feel control there, the struggle to find your reason to continue fighting (or to accept the decision to let go), and general agency related to one’s own life/expectations/purpose/choices.

This is a short and brutal novel, definitely not one to be undertaken lightly. I’m just struggling really with how to rate or communicate my feelings about it accurately. Even though I was uncomfortable while reading, and perhaps never fully aware of the secondary levels addressed, I still felt very affected by it when I finished. Yeong-hye’s struggles definitely represent a deep place in us all – one of dark and painful desires, a longing to disappear inside of ourselves and leave the world behind, the need to find a deeper purpose or another reason for living. Although it’s an extreme representation, it’s still disturbingly recognizable. Phew – what a read!

“Such uncanny serenity actually frightened him, making him think that perhaps this was a surface impression left behind after any amount of unspeakable viciousness had been digested, or else settled down inside her as a kind of sediment.”

“Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness as it whisked her life downstream, a life she had to constantly strain to keep from breaking apart.”

“Or perhaps it was simply that things were happening inside her, terrible things, which no one else could even guess at, and thus it was impossible for her to engage with everyday life at the same time. If so, she would naturally have no energy left, not just for curiosity or interest but indeed for any meaningful response to all the humdrum minutiae that went on on the surface.”

“Life is such a strange thing, she thinks, once she has stopped laughing. Even after certain things have happened to them, no matter how awful the experience, people still go on eating and drinking, going to the toilet and washing themselves - living, in other words. And sometimes they even laugh out loud. And they probably have these same thoughts, too, and when they do it must make them cheerlessly recall all the sadness they'd briefly managed to forget.”

“The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. She had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure.”

“It’s your body, you can treat it however you please. The only area where you’re free to do just as you like. And even that doesn’t turn out how you wanted.”

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

I’ve had my eye on this one since before it came out (not that long ago) because the reviews, from the start, have been so glowing. Everyone who has read it has liked it. And I’m always in for a universally popular contemporary romance. Plus, as a bonus, it also checks a box for The Reading Women Challenge 2020, for Prompt #16: Featuring a Woman with a Disability.

Chloe Brown has decided that it’s time for her to get a life. She’s spent years slowing shrinking her world, because suffering from a chronic illness has made it too hard for her to maintain relationships or take risks. But enough is enough. Guided by a self-created list (because how else would this computer geek “get a life” but with a carefully crafted list), she moves out of her family home and starts checking off her boxes. However, she didn’t count on her new apartment building’s handyman, Red, with his tattoos and motorcycle and easygoing support and general sexiness. Between getting to really know him, and what lies underneath his rugged exterior, and rescuing a rogue cat, Chloe may get even more of a life than she was looking for.

First, I just want to address the writing! This was the most fantastically sarcastic novel I’ve ever read and I couldn’t get enough of it! The dialogue was smart and layered with “other” meanings that constantly made me feel like I was in on some kind of inside joke between Chloe and Red. And I really couldn’t get enough of it. That feeling extends to the inner thoughts/monologues from the characters as well, not just the spoken dialogue. In fact, the playful sarcasm of their inner thoughts was straight up fantastic, one of my favorite parts. Basically, I loved Hibbert’s style.

As far at the plot, it was fairly typical, as contemporary romances go, especially for enemies-to-lovers stories. They didn’t like each other to start, then they slowly started to realize internally, then externally, that maybe they’d interpreted their feelings/interactions wrong. They get together. Then there’s a conflict that pushes them apart, but in the end the overcome and: happily ever after! But I mean, that’s a common plot for a reason, and it’s very satisfying to read when that’s what you’re looking for. (Which, for me anyways, it was.) So to that end, the overall pacing of the unfolding plot and attraction were well written. But in addition to that, there were some great additional layers/concerns that helped give this story a little something different, as far as depth. Chloe suffers from fibromyalgia – debilitating, but also easily dismissed by others. And that has made her prickly and self-protective (as far as her heart) to a dangerous degree. As for Red, he is recovering from a previous abusive relationship (emotionally, in particular, but with a bit of physical violence mentioned as well). So, he, too, is coming to the table with walls that he’s put up to protect himself. Overall, both characters backgrounds and “baggage” (for lack of a better word) are ones that I haven’t read, ever, before in a romance. A male protagonist being a previous subject of abuse and either party suffering from a chronic illness. Also, just as an extra diversity bonus, Chloe is black and plus-size (Is there a preferred way to say this? If so, please tell me, so I can do better.). And most of this is beautifully recognized and celebrated on the cover – LOVE IT. Anyways, I (luckily) do not suffer from a chronic illness, (thankfully) have not been in an abusive relationship, and just generally look very physically different from both characters… So while I can say nothing from personal experience as to whether or not all those issues were handled with complete insight and/or accuracy, I felt that at the very least it was all addressed very respectfully and sensitively. And for me, the look at how chronic illness not only affects a person physically, but also mentally and in all their relationships, was affecting and compelling.

The last thing I want to mention is the way the romance played out. First, I loved the sexual tension build-up. It was paced so well and, though there were not a lot of sex scenes, the ones we did get were very steamy and also, wonderfully, very sweet and thoughtful. With, of course, the trademark sarcastic dialogue (the character consistency there was fantastic). And in general, the chemistry between Chloe and Red was great. More importantly though, I loved, so much, the focus on how a healthy, strong relationship is not necessarily perfect all the time. For Chloe and Red, both dealing with many personal and past difficulties, they both (as we all do, to different extents) bring flaws and struggles into the relationship. And they do face a moment where those flaws threaten to “win,” if you will. But with the help of family and therapy, both Red and Chloe realize that they have something amazing. And that even though love really hurts sometimes, and it’s definitely not always easy, it’s worth fighting through/for. They both realize they can use their own strengths to fill in the other’s holes/flaws – and that’s such a gorgeous message about what makes the perfect life partner, for you as an individual.

This was a longer review than I normally end up writing, for contemporary romances. But there were so many things I really appreciated about the way the author represented and handled such a breadth of diversity in her main couple. It’s fantastic and real and important. Plus, like I said, I just really got into her writing style. Overall – a really fun, sweet and unique romance. I’m definitely looking forward to her next book(s), in which Chloe’s sisters get their time in the spotlight!

“He wondered what it was like, to cope constantly. Tiring, probably. Stressful, definitely. Doing it alone didn’t sound healthy at all.”

“She split time into something endless and wonderful, like crystal splitting light into rainbows.”

“You were hurt, and you reacted. You were in an unhealthy situation in more ways than one, and you panicked and cleansed everything with fire. Don’t dismiss your emotions and your self-protections just a fucked-up decision. Don’t reduce something so complex and real and important to nothing.”