With a title like this, how can a person not want to read this book? The answer is: they can't. And so, here we are. 

 

Long ago, a curse ended in all witches being orphaned as children. And between that and the rules in place to protect any witches that remain from the...consequences...of being found out, they live mostly isolated lives. It's safer to live apart, because magic is drawn to them, and in groups, their power is too hard to hide. Even with these protective practices in mind, Mika Moon agrees to a very odd request that comes across her DMs - an invitation to travel to the remote Nowhere House to teach the three young witches who live there to control their magic. Both curious and concerned, Mika agrees to meet. And even before she realizes it, she is swept up into the chaotic but loving household that is Nowhere House: the absent archeologist who "gathered" these three witches together, the grounds keeper, the house's caretaker, a retired (and very dramatic) actor, and the librarian, Jamie. This group is willing to do anything to protect the three young witches, to the extent that Jamie's is downright unwelcoming to Mika, an outsider. But over time, Mike not only wins their trust, but also their hearts (even Jamie's!), and they provide the loving home and sense of belonging she's always wished for. So when some final secrets come out, ones that were kept to protect the girls but are nonetheless hurtful to Mika, she has to decide if the potential pain of love for her newfound family is worth the risk, or if the "safety" of isolation is what she needs to maintain to protect her own heart.    

 

Readers, this was a tender, witty little story of magic and found family and a little bit of romance. The writing style had that quintessential dry British tone, of irreverence and snark, similar to that of The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels and My Lady Jane. It made reading this fast, easy, and fun - exactly the kind of cozy escapist literature I've been craving lately. Mandanna balances just enough emotional intensity, the fierce protectiveness of family and the difficult journey that is overcoming childhood trauma to live a more fulfilled adult life, to give depth to an otherwise lighthearted read. Because the found family aspects are comforting AF (I loved the adult caretakers of Nowhere House for their loyalty and sense of the melodramatic) and the three young witches are the most (accurately) fearsomely charming depiction of sibling interactions and what it's like to work with precocious youth. And then there's Mike and Jaime. These two softie souls, hardened by past experiences but just waiting for someone to crack through their defenses, were so sweet. This was a slow burn and very low spice romance (though it did have a quality focus on forearms), but that fit the story so well. It was all about the feels - the fear and connection and healing - that the two shared, hitting the reader right in the emotions. And while a few moments were more difficult to read about, lonely and abusive childhoods always are, the way these two hurt and cautious people are together brave, taking the leap of faith that is loving/being loved....well, oh my heart! Plus, there's a bonus "softening" of a third character right at the end that was unexpected, but so heartwarming. 

 

Look, I love witches, like so much. So one should probably take this next piece with a slight grain of salt. But I thought the magic system in this book was simply delightful. The way magic just floats like glittery gold particles, gathering around and wanting to be used by the witches who can see it, giving it a sort of low-key mischievously anthropomorphic vibe, really appealed to me. Also, the way that spells and potions come from instinct, from asking the magic to do what you want, strengthened by natural anchors or more powerful times of the year, felt intuitively right to me. The other thematic aspect that I thought was great was Mika's delineation between "nice" and "kind." That exploration is a beautiful and nuanced look at what true caring for others looks like, versus that of surface propriety. There's a lot to be learned from that, if one is willing to acknowledge it. I also loved the way everyone protects the people they love. And even though sometimes, the ways they try to do that don't always turn out as expected, the good intentions behind the decisions are highlighted in the end, when they come together to take steps to a better future together. Finally, the somewhat ridiculous twist at the end (that maybe I should have guessed at but actually didn't see coming), was a humorous sort of macabre that I thought fit the rest of the story really well. 

 

This is the kind of book that warms a reader's heart from the inside out. It was exactly what I needed in the same way that Mika’s teas always help/heal the drinker in whatever way they need. Just lovely.  

 

“We’re part of the earth below us and the sky above us. Our veins echo the patterns of rivers and roots. There’s sunlight and moonlight in our bones.” 

 

“People are usually like the sea, a constant, unerasable part of something bigger, but I’m more like a single wave that washes over the shore, ebbs away, and doesn’t leave a single trace behind.” 

 

“It’s not always enough to go looking for the place we belong […] Sometimes we need to make that place.” 

 

“Danger rarely wore a monstrous face and wielded a pitchfork. No, danger came most often in the form of […] the nice people whose niceness only went so deep, who saved their niceness for people exactly like them, who believed they were more deserving of power and respect than anyone who was a little bit different. […] There were people right here with her who were not necessarily nice, but they were all without exception kind, which was far more important.” 

 

“We can grow together instead of apart.” 

 

“Jamie had said it was a leap of faith to love people and to let yourself be loved. It was closing your eyes and stepping off a ledge into nothing and trusting that you’d fly instead of plummet to your tragic and poetic demise.” 

 

Shoutout to Libro.fm for the ALC of this book. I've been waiting for when I needed a light and fun read to pick it up, since everyone I've seen review it has mentioned that it's a little over the top. I've really been in the mood for escapist reads lately, so lots of fantasy and romance, but then I remembered this contemporary book waiting on my TBR and decided to mix up the escapism a bit. 

 

Generations ago, Oanh left her marriage for true love, and in the ensuing backlash, was cursed by a witch so that her descendants would give birth to only daughters...and would never find true love or happiness. In the present day, three mostly estranged sisters, descendents of Oanh, live in Little Saigon in Orange County, CA: Mai (the oldest and most know-it-all/in charge), Minh (the middle and the mediator of the siblings), and Khuyen (the youngest, who may or may not run Little Saigon's "underground"). Mai is not only estranged from her sisters (and mother), but also on rocky relationship footing with her three daughters as well, whose love lives she cannot seem to stay out of. There is also Minh's daughter and Khuyen's two daughters, all of whom have strained relationships with each other. Plus, there is a half-sister, whose reappearance with her own two daughters a decade ago was the catalyst for the family's current estrangement. When Mai consults a psychic about concerns for her daughters, she is told that this year may be her last chance to repair broken relationships, and thus begins the dramatic tale in these pages, a story of births and deaths and marriages and romances and maybe, just maybe, curse-breaking.  

 

Well alright. This was some phenomenally entertaining full-force family drama storytelling. Like, this is an intergenerational family story of fifteen Vietnamese women, that could easily have been told in a serious and intense way, but instead Huynh gives readers a more lighthearted experience. She makes precision observations about the emotional manipulation and guilt and expectations stereotypical to Asian/immigrant parent child (mother daughter) relationships, but with a sharp and humorous eye. So, while these observations are genuine, the delivery is a darkly humorous tone that fantastically delivers. That tone felt, to me, reminiscent of Kwan's Crazy Rich Asians series, though this book has less of the "rich" and more of the "everyday" style of success and livelihood. There is also a distinct air of soap opera to the overall plot, as it were. With the reality of estrangement and small communities comes the coincidences of overlapping relationships that, when all the family comes together for the "finale" scenes, explodes with spectacle that, yes, is a bit absurd, but also, if you picked up this book with accurate expectations, exactly right in its hilarity. 

 

These characters are all endearing in their dysfunction - there are parts of each of their stories that any reader can see themselves in. That universal, "I'm trying to be better but in reality not *really* learning from my mistakes" is something that everyone has experience with, if they're being honest. Similarly, the way people (in this case, mothers) fight to make things different (better) for future generations, but that overcorrecting can cause its own issues, is so relatable. And seeing all that addressed with such humor makes it easier, legitimately fun, to read about such recognizably human foibles. Plus, setting it within the context for learning about Vietnamese culture, in general and for immigrants to the US, gives lovely added depth and context. 

 

I struggled just a bit with the pacing of the story - not within itself, as it was page-turning from start to finish, but as part of a greater context - as it felt unmoored from anything happening outside the family. There is a chance that was purposefully done, to keep the focus on these women and their lives separately and together, fighting for individuality and cohesion both. And I do understand that bringing in more outside context could have necessitated a more serious tone, versus the "keeping it lighter" vibe that the author was going for. So I tried to just kinda let myself get pulled along and not worry too much about that aspect. So, in the end, I finished listening to this having been fully entertained by these gorgeously messy women, and totally recommend this to anyone looking to simply have a great time reading a book. 

 

“These two souls before them had never dreamt that romantic love could happen at their age, in their lifetime, within this cosmos. The type of love blossoming right now was the very thing that they'd been taught was unattainable. It wasn't pragmatic for people like them because they needed to worry about men with guns, picking a side in the war, putting food on the table, finding work, providing for children, and figuring out how to survive in a foreign country. These things came first.” 

 

“Not like a woman of color, a quiet Asian woman, a dutiful daughter or a model minority. But a desired woman who just wanted a man to look at her the way he did.” 

 

Honestly, when Samantha Shannon blurbs a book, it's a pretty automatic "check it out" for me. Plus, I have been really loving how much more mainstream fantasy/sci-fi inspired by African and Arabian and other non-Western traditions has become (I mean, there's still a long way to go, but progress is good). So, basically, deciding to read this was not a tough call. Of course, with a novel this length (and knowing that it was starting a trilogy that hasn't been fully released yet, which I'm always hesitant about because waiting is hard and I hate cliffhangers), I had to be mentally ready for the undertaking, so there was a delay between purchasing and picking up the novel. But here we are. 

 

The Warden's Empire has a very strict caste system, based on the color of one's blood. Sylah was stolen as a child from her upper class (red-blooded) family home. She was raised by the resistance and intensely trained with the goal of infiltrating the ruling class' tight-fisted rule from the inside. But years ago, her family was brutally murdered and since then, she's been purposeless, just barely finding the will to survive. Anoor has spent years being told by her mother (who happens to also be a high ranking official in the empire) that she is useless, a disappointment, not the child her mother wanted (secretly blue-blooded). When Sylah and Anoor meet, they find connection in their goals, their need to make a mark and prove their worth, if not their understanding of or experience with the world. And over time, they realize their experiences as outsiders in their own way(s) may have left them with more in common, and a greater emotional connection, than they'd thought. Alongside their unfolding story, we meet Hassa, one of the translucent-blooded serving class, whose hands and tongue were cut off like all her people's have been for generations. Hiding her people's many secrets, and working to lead them towards their own goals to take down and escape from the Warden's rule, she joins her knowledge and forces with Sylah and Anoor. Working together, from their different skill sets and angles, these three women may be able to bring on the power shifts and revolutionary changes they've all long dreamt of.     

 

For the first few chapters of this novel, I was super hesitant. The world-building felt basic and easy, and while I totally understand that all the best fantasy worlds are conceptually built upon the familiar (which are very uniform in their "powerful people taking advantage of other people in imperialistic ways"), it was the writing of it too. I feel like there is a way to make the familiar compelling, and not "expected." The point being, the beginning had me feeling unsure about how this would stand up to the hype. However, thankfully, it turns out that it was just the set-up at the start that felt that way (which is perhaps in part due to the debut nature of this novel - that sort of rudimentary communication of the fundamentals of the world, as opposed to a more sophisticated interweaving of those world-building details with early character and plot development). Also of note, as with all reviews, this is just my opinion, so others may not have felt the same about the opening. But in any case, I'm thrilled to report that after those first few chapters, the intricacies of the world, a nuanced and compelling character development, and a settling-in to the pacing and plot unfolding, picked up and had me fully invested. 

 

And let me just take an extra moment to say how much I appreciated that nuance and intricacy in the central characters and the world they live in. I was so impressed by how El-Arifi built each of their motivations because, as with all people (and especially for these characters within this story), their relationships and loyalties and emotions and choices are complex. Like, are your ties with blood or those you grew up around, and who is better placed to disrupt a system (and is it even possible to fully do that from only one angle)? Like, how can you simultaneously be jealous of what should have been yours and fight to tear down the systems that created it in the first place? Like, while there are absolutely those who bear a greater blame/role, is there ever anyone who is not, in some way, part of the problem...and can therefore be part of the situation, in their own way? The look at how class structures are not black and white - or red/blue/clear, as it were - yet there is some sweeping privilege that must be recognized, regardless of other characteristics, is thorough and necessary. And oooooof, overall what a commentary on the dangers of misunderstandings/assumptions that come with enforced separations amongst different peoples (as a concerted effort of those in power to retain said power it's horribly parallel to "real life" and, as much, carries important messages to readers). But anyways, basically this is all to say that I *loved* the way the Anoor, Hassa and Sylah developed separately and intertwined. Their growth was paced in a believable way and their emotional struggles (both in connecting and in not wanting to connect) felt genuine in both its difficulty and depth. I cannot wait to see where they each go from here and in what ways they come back together...or not. 

 

 Plot-wise, this novel delivered as well. There was a building of tension and stakes consistently from beginning to end, with the structure of the trials as a great way to have smaller builds/releases within the greater context. It's not a totally original set-up, for sure, but it was well-executed. And while I was cautious about how it would play out, really hoping for it to be realistic (within this world, obviously), I was pleased with how El-Arifi unfolded it all without anything too "easy" as far as plot devices. Also, alongside the main plotline of the trials, there were a number of smaller stories unfolding, many related to the ruthless violence and lying as a basis for this society/empire. The foreshadowing of how those lies coming to light will upend everything from the current system *as well as* the fight to bring that system down built well in and around the primary plot line. Finally, there were quite a few reveals at the end (and while some definitely weren't a surprise, some were unexpected), and I loved that they have me fully invested in where everything goes from here, BUT with enough of a wrap that I, a natural born hater of overdramatic cliffhangers (like seriously, if you write a story well enough, I will want to know what happens next without the need for all the characters to be left in a precarious and doomed situation) am happy with it. 

 

So basically, this is a really high quality opening to a new fantasy trilogy with lots of action, great character development of an awesome trio of female leads (I'm totally here for this type of complicated-strong heroine-dominated story - give me *all* of that), new (to me) and wonderful cultural inspiration on well-loved fantasy tropes, and a set-up for a story that I really want to know the rest of. 

 

“Love gives you strength, but retribution gives you purpose.” 

 

“How nice it is to be so blinded by your own riches that you can't see whose back your home is built upon.” 

 

“When money is everything, everything is for sale.” 

 

“His eyes crinkled with the wisdom of other people’s stories.” (What a description for educators/librarians, so much love!) 

 

“We cannot reclaim what’s ours without help from those who oppress us.” 

 

“If we forget the individual, we forget ourselves.” 

 

As you know, when feeling exhausted by work and real life, I turn to romance novels. I may be a bit past the season for this holiday-themed story, but if that's not escapism at its best, idk what is. And so, with the knowledge that I loved Cochran's first book, The Charm Offensive, I picked up her sophomore novel. 

 

A year ago, Ellie and Jack had a Christmas Eve meet-cute at Portland's famous Powell's bookstore. The two spent the entire day (and night) together, but things fell apart the morning after. Since then, Ellie's life has imploded: job lost, on the brink of eviction, feeling alone and adrift and (unwilling to admit) heartbroken. When Andrew, the landlord of the coffee shop she works at, proposes a ridiculous marriage of convenience plan, Ellie figures...what has she got to lose? But the deal involves spending Christmas week with his family and it turns out that Andrew's beloved sister is none other than Ellie's "Last Christmas" Jack. And thus ensues winter shenanigans, family drama, all sorts of feelings, and Ellie's inevitable choice between stability and the risks of love. 

 

Well, one has to go into this with the understanding that the premise is ridiculous, even for the romance genre. And if that's what you're expecting, and so theoretically looking for, then this book delivers. So many of the best romance tropes - fake relationships, forced proximity, a single bed - are here. And while it seems like that should be too much, it ends up feeling just right. I mean, yes, a bit over the top, but also, that's what I wanted it to be. And I was actually fairly impressed with the way that Cochran developed the ridiculousness of the set-up, once it was in place, to be something that felt pretty realistically tense. The complexity of the situation Ellie finds herself really does lend itself to the “secrets” and “miscommunication” style that is common in romance. And while those aspects usually feel forced, to me, they didn't as much here. I think because everyone was being sneaky to try and help everyone else, instead of from insecurity, that it felt different. Plus, I did appreciate that for many of the emotional pieces, outside the secrets of the relationships logistics, the characters were really open and communicative about how they felt (in general and for each other). It was a necessary and well-written balance.   

 

I thought the writing was really solid; nothing standout, but a well paced and comfortable delivery of the story. There were a number of instances where Cochran addresses Ellie's anxiety, which (content warning) is not at all handled well by some of the characters, and her relationship with her mother, that made my heart break for her. Cochran remains spectacular in including a very accurate representation of anxiety spirals and how that affects relationships, while also showing what supportive relationships can look like. Her friends were protective and nurturing and pushy in realistic turns, and honestly, in particular, I kinda loved the irreverence in the way they all responded to her overnight engagement (as well as how their reactions and suggestions changed, as they found out more/about Jack). Plus, their development as side characters was all fairly solid for a romance novel, which was nice in adding some depth. 

 

I have to be honest, I wasn’t at all sure about this one at the beginning (I can't pinpoint why - perhaps the web comic/flashback sections just weren't hitting quite right for me?), but by about a quarter of the way in, the cozy softness really moved into center stage, which is exactly what I was wanting from this novel (as promised by other readers/reviewers). And at that point, I had settled right in. Also, I was all in on the love trapezoid situation, it was like two romances in one, super soul-warming, and I couldn't have been happier about that panning out. Definitely this ended up being the escape and comfort read situation that I was needing. 

 

“The truth is: the world is full of selfish people who become selfish parents. It's hard to explain to anyone who grew up with stability and safety and guaranteed love what it's like to both hate your parents and desperately want their love at the same time.” 

 

“I think marriage is just promising to love someone as long as you can for as best you can. I think relationships can be exactly what they're supposed to be [...] even if they only last for one year, or five years, or even just for one day. The good parts of the time you spent with a person don't go away simply because the relationship ends.” 

 

“Some of us fall in and out of love easily. Some of us don't experience romantic love at all. Some of us have to fight to let ourselves be vulnerable enough to fall in love. [...] Some of us have to fight to let other people love us.” 

 

 

Well, since The Song of Achilles broke me emotionally and Circe is an all time favorite book, I figured I would eventually get around to reading this newest, short story, publication from Miller. And when I say short, I really mean it. This took me, at most, like twenty minute to read, and that was with a slow-roll reading vibe. But it was twenty minutes that was *really* well spent. 

 

Galatea is a reimagining of the myth of Pygmalion. In the original story, by Ovid, a sculptor who creates his "ideal" version of womanhood in marble, falls in love with his creation. And after praying to the gods for a miracle, the statue is brought to life for him. In this shifted-perspective telling, Miller gives us the story from the statue's point of view. Named Galatea, she is confined both spiritually and physically by her husband's expectations of feminine obedience and modesty. But when she realizes the freedom and safety of her daughter's future is in jeopardy, Galatea makes a bid for independence.  

 

Miller’s afterward captures all the things I wanted to say, in reflecting on this short story, which I believe is a mark of how good it is, that she accomplished all the insights and commentaries that she set out to do, and in such a short piece. Calling out the gross assumptions about women in the original, that purity is central to a woman's "goodliness" and that a women's identity is completely tied in with her ability to fulfill a man's fantasies and expectations, and giving Galatea a name and voice of her own, Miller reclaims this famous and popular story, giving her the power that has historically been provided only to those men who feel their own reality is threatened by women's independence and thus seek to control that which they (hate how much they) desire. 

 

As far as the writing goes, the tones of creepiness in the man’s controlling and judgemental and overall highlight suspect behavior create on-point tension. Galatea’s own voice, of pragmatism and clarity, feels exactly right stylistically and in line with character-development for a woman brought to life from stone. And the way she uses that to take control of her own story, and her daughter’s future, are just right. And that ending...oooof. It was potent, in a reclamation type way, that one can’t help but applaud the twist of justice, even as one despises the reality that made it have to end like that. 

 

Despite the short length, the impression I'm left with after reading this is striking, and the emotional reactions are heavy. Such high quality, as all Miller’s writing has been. A haunting story, in all the important and lasting ways. 

 

“But it does seem foolish that he didn't think it through, how could I not both live and still be a statue.” 

 

As should be well established by now, I am a sucker for a King Arthur retelling. And oh my goodness some of my favs ever are of this *very* sub-genre (The Lost Queen, Legendborn, and in pre-blogging years, The Mists of Avalon and The Once and Future King). I'm pretty flexible on the style of these retellings, I just love them. And when I'm in the mood for one...they're like a warm and cozy blanket. Enter this queer YA variation, which turned out to be everything I was hoping for and more. 

 

Just as Emmett Merlin is summoned to court to train as the wizard for the young King Arthur (who has done very little of renown since pulling the famous sword from the stone a year or so ago), he becomes indisposed after a spell-gone-wrong encounter... His twin sister, Emry (who just happens to be chafing at the small town life she's living and has always been way better at magic than her brother anyways), figures to save their family reputation she will head to court disguised as her brother. It's just for a week, til he gets better and they can switch out. But a week turns into...indefinitely...and Emry has honestly never been happier: learning magic, becoming friends with the nerdy prince, his dishonored best friend Lancelot, the snooty Lord Gawain, and generally being annoyed by the ladylike Guinevere. As with all secrets though, Emry's imitation game is eventually uncovered...and the consequences might mean the end of what had been shaping up to be a very good thing, for everyone. 

 

Look, this was just absolutely delightful. I haven't had this much straight-up fun reading a book in...a while. The writing was great - smooth and well-paced and the dialogue was *chef's kiss.* There was actually a lot in the writing style that reminded me of My Lady Jane (and that whole series of historical fiction spoofs); just really light and easy, but still smart. The voices of each character were unique, fitting both their characterization historically and for this individual story, and they each interacted with each other in ways and tones that genuinely fit within that. I was also really appreciative of how all these characters and their stories started in slightly different places than their “historically accurate” counterparts, and yet the relationships and connections are developed into something as close to and strong as they’re traditional representations. Honestly it was really nicely done. Plus, I enjoyed lots of the little Easter eggs from the "original" mythology that were sprinkled in, even if they weren't main parts/characters (or at least not yet). 

 

The plot itself, like I said, was well-paced. Close enough (ish) to the source material to be very much recognizable, but with lots of new aspects and original inclusions that made it feel fresh as well as familiar. Like I said, it was well-paced too, so I was invested throughout and turning pages as fast as my eyes and brain could make it happen. And oh my goodness the queerness (and general openness about sex and sexuality) all over this was just, everything I could have wanted it to be. I mean, the bisexual gender-flipped Merlin was enough to get me excited all on its own, but it was even better than that. And yes, there were some policies and characters that weren't as accepting, but the general vibes were very sex/queer-positive. 

 

Y'all, this was just enjoyable AF. Spectacular fun. I just fell right into this story and I will not apologize for how much I loved this freaking retelling. Go see for yourself! 

 

“The sword had been waiting for hundreds of years, and to be honest, it was bored.” 

 

“It was so confusing, having feelings for someone regardless of their gender, and realizing not everyone felt the same way.” 

 

“It shouldn’t matter that you’re a girl […] Things like that – your gender, or who you love, or where you come from – they shouldn’t matter. / Yet somehow, they matter the most to the wrong people. […] And I’m out of time. I can’t keep waiting for the world to change. / Which is why we’re going to change it ourselves.” 

 

I first saw this book on IG when @booksnblazers posted a glowing review. I do love mythology and retellings and especially when they are queer, so I added it to my TBR right then. But I moved it right up to the top when I saw it was shortlisted for a Lambda Literary Award for Transgender Fiction (https://lambdaliterary.org/awards/current-finalists/). 

This is a retelling of the (very popularly retold) epic saga Iliad, telling the story of the Trojan War. What makes this one unique, why I was so interested in reading it, is that it is told from the perspective of a transgender Achilles. She has fled her home and is living on an island of transgender priestesses dedicated to worship of the goddess Aphrodite when Odysseus comes to recruit the "prince" Achilles for a war against the Hittites. She is convinced to join the fight after her divine mother, Athena, transforms her into the woman's body she has always longed for, and promises her everything she's ever wanted: glory, power, and a child born of herself. Reunited with her beloved cousin, Patroklos, and newly befriending his intelligent sife Meryapi, Achilles sets out with the war party, leading the Myrmidon army. The gods have their own plans for these humans though, and their centuries-long dysfunctional relationships are being played out in the lives and sacrifices of these characters. And no matter what Achilles wants for herself, and what Athena is trying to "support" her through, the centerfold of this war, the gorgeous Helen, has other plans (and powers and "support" of her own), and she has turned her sights onto Achilles as her enemy.  

Y'all, I wanted to love this book. It was everything I normally love. And yet...I only "liked" it. It went in waves, as I read, and I think that actually speaks to one of the overall issues: the pacing. Sometimes I was completely into the story and fast-flipping pages and sometimes I was so uninterested in what was happening (and how slowly it was happening). There are a number of times that the plot/characters seemed to change their directions and plans at speeds that didn't feel realistic, or with unclear explanations of their thought processes/decision-making. I struggled with that, as it made the plot movements take precedence over character development in a way that didn't feel smooth. This was in contrast to the quality of the sensory writing, which was fantastic at many points. Although there were times where I felt like it was too much (part of why the pacing was off), I still cannot deny the evocation of those sensory pieces...as an example, the early on storm-on-the-seas setting, interwoven with a sex scene and a sort-of-hallucinatory violent death scene, was spectacularly vivid. As a bit of a follow-up regarding the "too much" comment I made, there was lots of personification and manifestation of the gods, but mostly in dreams and (earthly) in signs/objects, that were really interesting, and I enjoyed getting their direct perspectives. However, sometimes it got to a point where it was maybe too esoteric and cryptic to follow. It’s a fine line that I think the author sometimes missed. This was particularly noticeable at the end, when this novel took a real turn for the cosmic (like, whoa) and it just completely lost me in the finale, in a way that took me so far from the story that I just...cannot say that I was left totally satisfied by it, as far as final impressions go.   

Ok, other thoughts I had... This started really tough, as far as on-page transphobia. Definitely want to include a content warning for that. I did appreciate the complexity of the personal feelings about being trans that were included, from the kallai (trans priestesses) to Achilles' actual physical body change. The self-loathing and pain and anger and defensiveness that came with not being able to truly be who one is caused Achilles (and a few other characters) to lash out at others, even unfairly, and Deane did not shy away from exploring this difficult truth of being “selfish” and unable to see past one’s own reality, even to the point of hurting others that support you or agree with you. It was a nuanced and affecting look at mental health and trans reality. Overall, the queerness of this retelling - obvs with Achilles, but then in reverse with Brisewos and the Amazons, as well as threesomes and other aspects and vibes, even with some of the big “men” names like Agamemnon included - is so good. And I loved the weaving of Greek and Egyptian (and other) names together, for those deities with the same powers over generations and nations. The depth of the research on the part of the author is very evident, and I acknowledge that. I just wish I loved this novel IRL as much as I did conceptually, because inevitably those sections about the gods took the reader on detours from the story into the abstract (in interactions with and dreams about gods) that were so distancing for me that I just got lost. 

I am struggling so hard with this review because there was so much here that had promise. This was such an epic retelling, with so much great rewriting of "popular mythology" with a unique queer lens. And the strength of the longing (joy in finding belonging and sorrow in identity being just out of reach) is so strong all the way throughout. But outside of that, this novel just kept me too emotionally distant (as emotionally distant as the gods are when making decisions about the lives of the humans they hold power over, so that at least is an interesting take on that impersonal vibe) for me to honestly say I enjoyed it. I think I'm glad I read it. And if you are into the esoteric, then you should definitely give it a go. But set your expectations correctly.   

“And it would be death - the death of her self, the inexorable corrosion of her soul, until even her name was forgotten and nothing was left but the shell of a man she never was.” 

“…to be seen as both a woman and a warrior. She had never understood why she could not be both, but she had been denied so many times it seemed impossible. Now she was living proof it could be done.” 

“Did you at least inhale the aroma of your victory? It smells like everything worth having: like sacrifice, like power, like triumph.” 

“Love is the creative force that imbues life with spirit.” 

“Love is madness, she thought. And in the grips of that madness, those who love become deadlier than the gods, and lose all rational fear.” 

“Knowledge is irrevocable.” 

“Gods take the credit for whatever we do for ourselves.” 

“But hero’s have to be crazy, selfish, infected with romantic foolishness - gods!” 

 

I've had this book on a low-setting back burner, as far as being aware of it and interested in reading it, but I definitely wasn't rushing. Then this past fall, while visiting my friend in Boston, I stopped in the Harvard bookstore (among others, because...bookstores) and this one was on a "special sale" rack. So, naturally, I bought it. And I just now found the right time to pick it up. 

 

She Said is a recounting, by the two journalists who broke the story, of the research and effort behind the Harvey Weinstein sexual harassment and abuse scandal (is that was we should call it?) in October 2017. New York Times reporters Kantor and Twohey spent months interviewing actresses and former employees of Weinstein, as well as looking into the "paper trail" of NDAs and secret payoffs in trade for silence, and they detail the ups and downs and efforts of that experience here. From the back and forth with confidential informants trying to convince them to go on the record, to the underhanded tactics of Weinsten's "team" in trying to threaten and bully and bury the story, to the aftermath when the proverbial "floodgates" opened after the article was published, this was a fascinating journey to take behind the scenes. And even after the publication of their breaking article, they give the reader further insight and story development with their perspective of the soon-afterwards Kavanaugh/Blasey Ford hearing, and the journey she took in speaking out about his assault on her from decades before. It ended with a wonderful "epilogue" in which they checked back in with a number of their sources to see how they and their lives had been affected due to their choices in speaking out, going on record, breaking their NDAs...or not, depending on what they had decided to do. 

 

I think I have noticed that a nonfiction style I really like is this type of journalistic "explaining not only the story itself but how the story was researched and collected and broken open." It's similar to Empire of Pain in that way, just a bit, and the final section of Evicted, among others. And it's just really compelling for me. The writing in this book is so clear and straightforward, as I would expect from a book written by renowned journalists, but it was a necessary way to communicate this story, with the levels of intensity in the content. The professional candidness that Kantor and Twohey used allowed them to treat the topics (the sexual harassment - and more) that their sources disclosed and revisited, with the gravity they deserved. 

 

As expected, this was overall a heartbreaking and infuriating read. The pattern of abuse against hopeful young women, who just want to succeed/follow their ambitions, overpowering them and causing them to feel choiceless and out of their depth and taken advantage of, was a lot. From the very early stages, when interviewees close to Weinstein at the time commented things like “we all thought it was extramarital cheating or philandering” (which is, at best, a double standard, as the public outcry against a female 'philanderer' would have looked very different, even without the sexual harassment/assault/rape realities being ignored behind that), I was already angry. And as the story unfolded, and more and more evidence was gathered, I was further and further enraged. There's a quote I pulled (listed below) that just really, for me, summed up a lot of both the issue (I mean, obviously the actual issue was the sexual harassment/abuse, but as far as the system/structure that allowed it to happen and continue) and the way it spiraled to this extent: the authors talk about the narrow response to the allegations, prioritizing company stability over women’s safety,  being what created and allowed the problem to grow to begin with. And even in the final moments before everything went public, they continued to follow that broken/unsuccessful model, having learned essentially nothing. Another thought about these "in the final moments" responses...Weinstein's personal denial and shallow contrition and threats and self-pity was altogether just…gross on top of gross. But even in that time, as in all the others, Kantor and Twohey consistently gave space, and in the pages of this book give space, to all the voices involved in the story. 

 

There were also a few chapters after the breaking of the Weinstein article that covered the aftermath, in general and in the specific example of the Blasey Ford testimony, that I really liked. Kantor and Twohey asked questions about what had changed, if anything, as a result of the publication of their investigations. This was an unexpected aspect of this reading experience for me, and a favorite. I found the speculation on and thoughts about the implications of these “cases” on the future (and if there have yet been, or will be, any substantial changes to policies, processes and public action/thought as a result) very fascinating. And while I liked that they pointed out that sometimes this type of reporting or grassroots or other interpersonal conversation starting is important to changing public opinion and how people think/act, I also appreciate that they said unequivocally that this story and journalism shouldn’t be a substitute for better laws/processes/definitions/protections. That is such an important point. And when they talked about the "this has begun a witch hunt for men" versus " we haven't gone nearly far enough in retribution" voices, I loved the analysis that that lack (of better and clearer laws/processes regarding dealing with sexual harassment) is actually the same complaints of "unfairness" coming from both extremes, in different words/perspectives. That's why I loved reading, especially nonfiction, those types of insights and connections are so eye-opening. Oh! And speaking of connections, the tie in to #metoo, as created by Tarana Burke (to read more about that, her memoir Unbound is fantastic), as the coming together of separate movements with the same goal in growth to become something more was covered as well. 

      

Finally, for me, the epilogue was everything. That this was written by women is clear to me, because they thought to address the afterward. The story, especially this kind, doesn’t end with coming forward or publication, not even close. There are lifelong consequences, of all kinds, based on the choices these women made about the different times/ways they chose to come forward with their stories, or not. I deeply appreciated the way we got to check back in with them - that perspective is so important and I'm so grateful we got it here. 

 

This was an intense, frustrating, upsetting, and just enough encouraging book. I was captivated from start to finish and, within your capacity and readiness, I absolutely recommend this. 

 

“The United States had a system for muting sexual harassment claims, which often enabled the harassers instead of stopping them. Women routinely signed away the right to talk about their own experiences. Harassers often continued onward, finding fresh ground on which to commit the same offenses. The settlements and confidentiality agreements were almost never examined in law school classrooms or open court. This is why the public had never really understood that this was happening. Even those in the room with long histories of covering gender issues had never fully registered what was going on.” 

 

“Even at that late hour, they sounded more concerned with the welfare of the company than the welfare of the women, which had been the problem all along. By focusing so narrowly on liability, they had allowed the problem to grow and ultimately destroy what they had sought to protect." 

 

“That’s where a lot of the most profound change was happening, with the cacophonous public conversations, so frequently unsatisfying, sparking more contemplative private ones.” 

 

“Problems that are not seen cannot be addressed.” 

 

“Their stories involved a kind of poetic reversal. They had suffered from harassment but gained new authority and respect from fighting it.” 

 

I decided to pick up a poetry collection during April, in honor of National Poetry Month, and though it took me so long to get to it that this review is getting posted in May, I'm really glad this was the one I chose. It was a random selection from my library's Poetry Month display....I had never heard of it before, but the cover and title (that play on Lord of the Flies definitely had me curious), just caught my attention and, not having any frame of reference for poetry really (with my once/year attempt to read a collection), I went for it. 

 

In Lord of the Butterflies, Gibson addresses a number of salient "hot topics," covering more personal items like gender and sexuality and love and relationships, as well as more politically leaning ones, like gun violence and mental health and refugee crises and the general dangers of the extremity of conservatism in the US. While a few of the poems here were a bit lighter, dealing with finding love and the joy in small everyday moments of connection in relationships, the majority of this collection was intense to read. Gibson's language includes quality word play and rhythm, association and metaphor, but all of it in a much more transparent and accessible way than some of the previous collections I've read (looking at you, Citizen). All their meaning and themes are clear, and evoke incredible emotion (see listed below my list of favorite poems, with short snippets about why and their emotional impacts), blending art and activism in a "for everyone" kind of way. 

 

There was a blurb for this collection that I read that said something like: it's an “oscillating between activism and love.” And I don't think I could say anything more spot on, as a description for this experience. At times there was almost some whiplash in the hardcore back and forth between those two perspectives. But like, the good kind of whiplash...if that exists? I was very invested. Also, I can definitely see in these poems the background Gibson has in spoken word performance - these would lend themselves to that style of performance very well. Overall, this is a great collection for a "I'm not sure I 'get' poetry" type reader (so, me, haha).  

 

Favorite Poems: 

"Good Light" (especially part one) 

"Diagnosis" (though all the short poems packed a major punch) 

"Radio" (the word play and meaning and rhythm and the way it highlights the little moments in a life together is so touching) 

"Weather" (this feels like a high quality spoken word poem; I love it’s flow, and the tying together of memory moments and thematic element of cold/snow) 

"America, Reloading" (with its words twisted together in multiple meanings and metaphors mixed with unbridled truths; HARD to read, ooof) 

 

Quotes: 

"I suffer / from unrequited self love. / I love myself, but I don't / love myself / back." ("Diagnosis") 

“Understanding why we're bad at love / doesn't necessarily make us good at it.” (from "Bad at Love") 

“Some people fall out of love. / I jump /to feel the safety / of the parachute.” (from "Bad at Love") 

“...Imagining until we grieve. / Grieving until we act / like we know what kind of laughter / is the sound at the beginning / of the end of the world.” (from "Until We Act") 

“But no one heals what they refuse to look at.” (from "Daytime, Somewhere") 

“…that our veins are absolutely strings / tied to other people's kites, / that our lives are that connected.” (from "Living Proof") 

 

I have been meaning to read something, anything, by Shafak for years. She's a prolific author, and everything she writes seems to have really good reviews. Plus, I follow her on social media and her advocacy and activism for feminism is really inspiring. I know this isn't one of her most well known books, but I found it at a used bookstore sometime during the past few years, and the audiobook was available from my library, so this is where I started... 

 

In the present day, Ella Rubenstein is a wife and mother who doesn't even realize how...unsatisfied...she's been in life. When she starts a new part time position with a literary agency, she is assigned to read a novel draft called "Sweet Blasphemy" by author Aziz Zahara. The novel, which unfolds in parallel to Ella's story, tells the thirteenth century tale of Shams of Tabriz, a whirling dervish known to have been the close companion and confidant of the famous poet of love, Rumi. As Ella is drawn into the mysticism and ruminations on love throughout the novel, she begins an email conversation with the author, Aziz. Over time, their connection with each other grows into something more than pen pals, and Aziz's philosophy about love as a unifying connection across all peoples and religions starts to convert Ella in the same way that Shams' philosophy in the past turned Rumi on to a new path as an advocate of passion, mysticism, and love. 

 

This was an incredibly reflective and lyrically philosophical novel. I was originally quite surprised, and not entirely happily so, to realize how heavy the theological philosophy was throughout this story. I really don't have a lot of knowledge about Rumi's personal life or path, so I don't know if I realized (though perhaps I should have considering the time and climate of his life) how intertwined his views and teachings on love were with that type of religious outlook. However, as I read further, I realized what Shafak was doing. She began with that strong connection to formulaic religion  and over the course of the book, through Aziz and Shams' influences, transformed it into something looser and, in my opinion, more meaningful. The basic doctrines of religion, to help the downtrodden and love all neighbors are those that are so easy for well-off/powerful followers to ignore, creating hierarchies in access and reality, which is the reason I struggle with organized religion. Shafak's use of different reviled perspectives - the drunk, the harlot, the diseased - to show the internal goodness that many of these "dismissed due to their exterior persona" characters, and throws into sharp relief the truly irreverent and actually "against the faith" caricatures: the corrupt. What an impressive illustration of what faith is supposed to be versus what it has been manipulated into. 

 

I also appreciated the interrogation of the obvious/surface interpretations of religious texts, to get to the deeper meanings. Again, it's philosophy I'm not  altogether interested in personally, but would be great critical thought for all believers (something I feel that many believers, of any religious doctrine, could use more of). In this respect, this novel reminded me in some ways of Alif the Unseen, with that deeper read into the real meaning of these religious texts. Just...a great commentary on how religion (faith) and love were originally meant to be so intertwined and somehow along the way, we've really lost the plot with that. On that note: love. This was clearly a central factor to the novel and it was explored from myriad perspectives and styles, successful and otherwise, with deep meditation on what different ways love can look and, especially, at how loving and losing reaches a deeper mine of emotion than simply loving. I really liked, like really a lot, the forty rules of love and how they were woven into the story. It was a gorgeously done thematic connection and they really did make me think and reflect. 

 

While I did have a few...less favorite...things, like the audiobook narrator was not my favorite, the fact that I thought all the “plot” and “characters” stood only in service of the philosophy, and not on their own, and that overall this was a bit too slow and reflective for my personal tastes, stylistically, I have to say that my opinion of Shafak as a storyteller is high. The way she is able to weave a spell with her words is impressive and her disrupting of the status quo of religious hierarchy (with the truth of their own teachings!) is incredibly satisfying. I will definitely be picking up another by her after this reading experience.  

 

“Having roots nowhere, I have everywhere to go.” 

 

“Ella found it puzzling that an unpredictable and impenetrable world could drive people like her back into their houses but almost the opposite affect on someone like Aziz, inspiring him to embark on adventures far off the beaten track.” 

 

“The quest for Love changes us. There is no seeker among those who search for Love who has not matured on the way. The moment you start looking for Love, you start to change within and without.” 

 

“You know, this is exactly why I abhor religion. All sorts of them! Religious people are so confident of having God by their side that they think they are superior to everyone else.” 

 

“Do not go with the flow. Be the flow.” 

 

“Is there a way to grasp what love means without becoming a love first? Love cannot be explained. It can only be experienced. Love cannot be explained, yet it explains all.” 

 

“Every true love and friendship is a story of unexpected transformation. If we are the same person before and after we loved, that means we haven't loved enough.” 

 

"Love is the water of life. And a lover is a soul of fire! The universe turns differently when fire loves water."