Reviews by just_one_more_paige

1.55k reviews by:

just_one_more_paige

In an Absent Dream

Seanan McGuire

4.0

adventurous emotional hopeful lighthearted reflective tense fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

It's been awhile since I read the previous book in this series (Beneath the Sugar Sky), but starting all the way back with Every Heart a Doorway, this has been a comfort read sort of series for me. I felt very seen by the first book, and since then, while they are none of them particularly happy escapist reading, there is something comforting about the fairy tale story-telling vibes, even with the "be sure" cautionary aspects that each come with. So even though I haven't visited this series in awhile, settling in to read this fourth installation was wonderfully familiar.

In An Absent Dream tells Lundy's story (if you remember her from book one, she worked at the Home for Wayward Children), her own experience with mysterious doorways and visits to other worlds. Lundy is a serious young girl with few friends, who spends her time reading, enjoys understanding and following rules, and fully expects to grow up and settle down in the traditional "marry a man and start a family" type way. Her doorway takes her to a Goblin Market, a place with lots of rules, but rules following a very specific and rigid sort of logic about "fair value." She experiences wonderful and terrible adventures during her years in the market, mixed with mundane visits back to her "normal" life. And though she is sure she wants to stay in the market with her friends/family there, when the time comes that she is forced to make that choice, she finds she cannot, and instead, makes the kind of bargain that never ends well.

I recognized Lundy's name from the start, but it took a quick Google to actually place her. Once I had, the ending became...not a twist, knowing where she ends up (so I guess we could consider this book as a sort of prequel). However, having a sinking suspicion about where things end for Lundy did not, in fact, make me any less invested in the unravelling of her story. In this novella, I felt like it was an interesting choice to focus on Lundy's comings and goings from the market (and immediate surrounding times), while glossing over or summarizing the magical and dangerous adventures she has while at the Goblin Market. With this choice, McGuire focused more on the inevitableness of becoming an adult and the lessons therein. For Lundy, learning that you cannot have everything and still give fair value, sometimes you need to make choices, hard as they may be, is an impossible reality of growing up. And it led to a poignantly bitter ending that hurt to watch happen, but in the best kind of literary way.

As with the other stories as well, the naïve literal magicality of children and their POVs take center stage right from the start. In this case in particular, the highlighting of the remarkable in the ordinary was paired and conveyed so well with the fairy tale storytelling style. I continue to be impressed with the way McGuire can put into words abstract feelings or moments, like the way Lundy felt that expectations for her and her brother were different, even if never explicitly stated by her parents or when femininity turns from being an attribute to an expectation (from external forces). For all that these tender spots are, in real life, almost too subtle to describe, over and over she gets them exactly right. It's so viscerally accurate. And I really enjoyed the exploration of the idea of fair value, based on objective needs (versus wants), the intent behind the trade, and what people have/are able to give. It was a great way to look at market equality from a perspective of striving for idealism/utopia as a worthy goal, while also considering the framework with an open-minded awareness that, as with all things, it can be taken too far. Casting it all in a child’s level of perception and understanding is phenomenal for clearly communicating these concepts of fairness as subjective and not a fixed target. These youth-POV exploration of complex "adult" concepts is one of the things McGuire does best with this series.

With a few gorgeous illustrations sprinkled throughout, this was a notable addition to the Wayward Children series. Though it is not my favorite of the four so far, I still love the tangible life lessons and bittersweet moments of choice and growing up that McGuire manages to wrap in a magical, gossamer story. A lovely, tender reading experience.

“And it mattered. Small things often do.”

“Following the rules didn't make you a good person, just like breaking them didn't make you a bad one, but it could make you an invisible person, and invisible people got to do as they liked.”

“There are many good things in the world, and each of them happens for the first time only once, and never again."

“There is wanting, and there is needing, and when you want, you can make good choices, but when you need, it's important the people around you not be looking to take advantage.”

“Home always shrinks in times of absence, always bleeds away some of its majesty, because what is home, after all, apart from the place one returns to when the adventure is over? Home is an end to glory, a stopping point when the tale is done.”

“Some forms of fair value are less tangible than others.”

“It is so often easy, when one has the luxury of being sure a thing will never happen, to be equally sure of one's answers. Reality, it must sadly be said, has a way of complicating things, even things we might believe could never be that complicated.”

Content Warnings

Age of Vice

Deepti Kapoor

4.0

dark emotional mysterious tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

“He dared to dream at the roulette wheel of life and lost his shirt every time.”

There was a bit of buzz around this one as it came out, just recently, which had it on my radar. And I also got an ALC version of it from Libro.fm, which helped keep it there. I was in the mood for something more...I don't know, entertaining, I guess? Like, I know that gangster books are not necessarily light reads, as they are likely chock full of violence and substance misuse and other tough topics, *but* they have that escapist/surreal vibe that I was looking for, so I decided to give this one a try.

Age of Vice opens with a post-car crash scene, with multiple people dead and a rich man's car (being driven by a shell-shocked servant with no memory of the night's events) found by police on the side of the road in Delhi. As the novel unfolds, the reader follows three perspectives of people connected to the influential-from-the-shadows, loved and feared and power-hungry, Wadia family. Sunny Wadia is the heir to the Wadia family dynasty, young and idealistic and a well-known host of lavish parties and patron of upcoming arts and socialites. Ajay is a young boy from a background of poverty who has found himself as Sunny's most trusted servant. And Neda is a journalist who, after being pulled into Sunny's sphere, finds herself in an ever-more-complicated relationship with both Sunny and the Wadia empire. Their stories span the breath of contemporary India, both in location and class, and highlight social issues, complicated interpersonal and romantic dynamics, the drama and violence and expectations of gangs and gang families, as well as the general greed of humanity and the constant battle to stand against corruption and for morality.

This was well-marketed. Absolutely a good old-fashioned, classic gangster style story. As indicated in the title, there is every kind of vice imaginable in these pages: money, substances, power, sex, and, of course, tons of intimidation and violence. I was really impressed with how well Kapoor combined all those vibes with (stunning) setting descriptions and full character development that stood up the the intensity of the plot. It would have been easy for those details to be lost or consigned to the background, but they weren't - it was a great balance. That being said, this book was also long. I was so glad for the audiobook, because while I really was invested, everything was quite compelling, there was also no conciseness in the language used to convey it all. Being able to listen helped keep me moving forwards through it.

I don't read a lot of books of this genre, so I am not really sure how the stories usually unfold, but I do have to say this was surprisingly emotionally a downer. Like, yes, lots of terrible things happen, violence-wise, but I had gone in expecting that. It was the character's story arcs in particular that were all honestly tragic AF. I mean even though they all ended with a sort of eye toward the future, there was nothing happy or positive about any of it. At best, one could consider some of the "fresh(ish) start" vibes as a neutral place to leave these characters. But overall, the trajectory of the individual stories for Sunny, Ajay and Neda did nothing so much as demonstrate how this type of "age of vice" lifestyle takes advantage of/screws over everyone in its quest for power and oblivion and money, no matter how you're related, inside or out of it. There is just so much naïveté and idealism and best intentions and morals squashed. It was tough to watch the slow slide into...settling.

Overall, this is an incredible combination of all the drama and violence of a true crime syndicate/corrupt affluent population/complacent government mystery-thriller plot, with the sweeping descriptions of the city and rural landscapes of an entire country, with the character development of an intergenerational family saga. Very much some quality escapist reading, with a satisfying dose of social justice commentary.

Content Warnings

Babel

R.F. Kuang

5.0

adventurous challenging dark emotional inspiring mysterious reflective medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

This was one of the most "no brainer" books I have ever read. After reading and loving Kuang's debut series (The Poppy War, The Dragon Republic, The Burning God) she officially put herself on my list of favorite authors. And so just knowing this was another historical fiction-fantasy style read, I was hype. And as I watched review after review say that this was a masterpiece of literature, my excitement kept growing and growing and growing. This past week, I finally found myself in the right combination of reading mood, a few days off, and having both the audiobook and physical copy in hand. And it was...everything I had built my hopes for it to be.

When he is just a boy, the newly christened Robin Swift is brought from his homeland in Canton to London, where he spends years studying Latin, Ancient Greek and Chinese under the eye of his...benefactor...Professor Lovell. All this effort, to the exclusion of anything else, is in preparation for the day he'll enroll in the prestigious Royal Institute of Translation (aka Babel) at Oxford University. This is the center of the world, as far as the study of language and translation are concerned. And it's also the center for the study of silver-working, where the power of words and meaning are harnessed into magical silver bars that power basically everything in England. Robin falls in love with Oxford, Babel, and his cohort: Remy, Letty, and Victoire. But as time goes and he learns how much Britain's colonial machine is powered by silver, which is in turn powered by those same people that Britain is colonizing and looking down on, Robin is pulled into a secret society that is fighting against imperial expansion, and for the rights of people and places, like Robin and China, "foreigners" and "other lands" that England will never fully accept as their own. When things come to a head and Robin realizes that England is preparing to declare (a deeply unjust) war on China over opium and silver, Robin has to make some tough decisions about which side he is on, and how far he's willing to go for that side.

Alright, I literally could not stop listening, reading, highlighting passages, taking notes...overall I just couldn't step away from this novel. It is just as sweeping, breathtaking, impressive and immersive as promised. I'm even really sure how to express, in a cohesive way, all my reactions to this, so you're just gonna have to hang on through the following gushing and all-over-the-place review. First, I loved (and loved to...hate, I guess) every single character in these pages. While they were all an archetype or representation, they also all had fully nuanced stories of their own, which is a truly lovely way to demonstrate that that's what real life is like - we are all individual, and yet, we also likely fall into a number of character tropes. Victoire and Letty and Robin and Remy had such complex and *real* interpersonal relationships, based on a commonality of being outsiders, but with so much difference in the spaces between that similarity (that made watching their later, similarly nuanced, dissolution all the more difficult, for all its combined expectedness and, still because as a reader one cannot help but hope for something different, heartbreaking). This character development interpersonally was matched by the individual development each had, unfolding as the story progressed on their own and in conjunction. And of course, with Robin as the primary perspective, watching his slow (and then sudden) turn, within the bounds of the plot and information reveal, was so well done.

I also thought the gothic academia setting was phenomenal, some of the best I've ever read (The Secret History wishes it was Babel). The theory of translation - keeping faith with the original text versus making it relatable into the translated language/culture/time - is just fascinating. Is faithful translation across culture and time and space possible? Where is the line between the words and the spirit behind them, between fidelity and betrayal (and what power translators have in that space)? The discussions about etymology and how that was harnessed for the silver-working, was phenomenal (and really educational - I spent a lot of time Googling things while reading this). Just in general, the play with and study of language(s) is stunning, both in entertainment and insight value. And the commentary on how it’s used in colonialism in myriad ways was really mind-opening. As I'm sort of talking about the setting here, let me just say that Kuang brought it to life. The intertwining history of the Industrial Revolution and workers rights and public health and colonialism/immigrant racism with this historical fantasy reworking of it all as the Silver Industrial Revolution is masterfully done. And as a small detail that I deeply loved, the Babel tower was bigger on the inside! And the first had glimpses into academic life, the many ways that it is not at all above the political and economic powers it purports to be, and the construction of artificial scarcity in the field, was simply spot on.

Thematically, and this should hopefully already be clear based on the review so far, the primary topic (other than translation explored throughout this novel is colonialism and imperial empires. What a comprehensive look at the myriad ways colonialism is handled and/or experienced, from so many angles and perspectives. The commentary on how empires actually need, and would collapse without, those they subjugate, is spot on. Kuang illustrates the racism and colonialism of western institutions (especially the insidiousness of the one like "education organizations" that claim to be better/helping, but are just as complicit), and the way they treat both women and POC and the intersectionality there, in a way that sparks outrage, empathy, awakening and understanding. She makes it *so* clear how it pushes people to violence, but also causes others to retreat into the comfort of pretending it’s not true because that’s easier. There are not necessarily answers or "right" choices, here or IRL, but this book acts such a phenomenal fictional call to action, with a cutting precision I’ve not read anything like anywhere else.

In addition to addressing colonialism on a wider, societal impact, level, we also see a multitude of individual reactions to it, from those masterminding it to those perpetuating it (actively or unconsciously) to those at the receiving end. The way Robin, and others, struggle with the confluence of colonialism and creature comforts, how it's all in the abstract…until it isn’t, and then you can’t ignore it anymore, was magnificently rendered. The contradiction he faces, of despising colonizers and still wanting to be respected by them, resenting how he was treated versus wanting to be a part of it is so challenging to read him working through. This is compounded by the belonging one finds with a cohort, even within the larger scope of a place one doesn’t belong, that makes acknowledging reality even harder. The guilt of loving where one is and thriving in it, while still recognizing the unjust foundations it was built on, is a complex contradiction and cognitive dissonance to have to live with and decide on again each day. In trying to decide between personal happiness and greater injustice, when the only obstacle to a smooth life is one’s conscience and fear of breaking an illusion (and is survival too much to ask for in exchange for one’s morals, because it’s violent work that sustains the fantasy), Robin and his cohort learn that there was no straddling the line. You are either part of the institution, helping hold it up, or you are against it.

My one small complaint, and I know they are students and out of their depth so maybe it’s more annoyance than complaint, was how they tried to hide Lovell "situation" (trying to avoid spoilers). I feel like their choices actually caused more suspicion of them, versus other options which could have been more “taken care of” and closed-ended, in a way that allowed them to actually "get away with it." But otherwise, I want to mention a few final things I did really like that don't really fit with the last few paragraphs. Kuang's portrayal of the necessity of repressing memories of one’s past in order to survive a new life in a new land is a heartbreaking commentary on immigration. The universal connection of those all suffering from coercion and exploitation at the hands of the powerful is a strong vein throughout; if we can connect as the majority in that vein, there is such power. There was a really interesting exploration of the meaning and purpose of sacrifice, is it actually a meaningless gesture because while it makes one feel better and lets one off the hook, it does nothing to fix the actual root problem. The final end [of life] moments, and the memories one finds themself clinging to in that moment, were incredibly poignant. And OMG the ending and its circle back to the beginning - that was so long ago in the story I had mostly forgotten the details of - as a literary “closing” was perfection! And the even more amazing after that, the epilogue: of hope but like, with the realistic tiny gains made out of pure and endless effort but also always the possibility and potential exists. It is hopeful and hopeless simultaneously in a way I can’t put words to but is just a masterpiece.

Y'all. Holy shit. Kuang is a literary force and we honestly do not deserve her. This was maybe a bit didactic and repetitive at times, but to great effect as these are topics that are both deeply necessary to address and IRL overlooked because it's easier to survive (or thrive, depending on who you are) in the status quo and not reckon with them. Such astute, darkly humorous, and satirical observations and commentary, alongside fantastic atmospheric setting, intriguing and fully dimensional characters, and a page-turning and deeply satisfying (as far as calling out the bollocks - I'm bringing the contemporary British slang, yea?) plot. Over and over, Kuang just brings it in these pages. Extraordinary. Remarkable.

“It had not registered until now that he would not step foot on his native shore again for many years, if ever. […] The word loss was inadequate. Loos just meant a lack, meant something was missing, but it did not encompass the totality of this severance, this terrifying un-anchoring from all that he’d ever known.”

“A lie was not a lie if it was never uttered; questions that were never asked did not need answers.”

“They needed each other because they had no one else.”

“Words have no meaning unless there is someone present who can understand them.”

“But the future, vague as it was frightening, was easily ignored for now; it paled so against the brilliance of the present.”

“A dangerous trap indeed, for a player to believe his own stories, to be blinded by the applause.”

“But that’s the great contradiction of colonialism. […] It’s built to destroy that which it prizes most.”

“A gun takes all the hard work out of murder, and makes it elegant. It shrinks the distance between resolve and action, you see?”

“Violence shows them how much we’re willing to give up […] Violence is the only language they understand, because their system of extraction is inherently violent. Violence shocks the system. And the system cannot survive the shock. You have no idea what you’re capable of, truly. You can’t imagine how the world might shift unless you pull the trigger.”

“Justice is exhausting.”

“…the obstacle was not the struggle, but the failure to imagine it was possible at all, the compulsion to cling to the safe, the survivable status quo.”

“Empire needed extraction. […] The hands of the Empire were tied, because it could not raze that from which it profited.”

“We have to die to get their pity […] We have to die for them to find us noble. Our deaths are thus great acts of rebellion, a wretched lament that highlights their inhumanity. Our deaths become their battle cry. But, I don’t want to die…”

“That’s just what translation is, I think. That’s all speaking is. Listening to the other and trying to see past your own biases to glimpse what they’re trying to say. Showing yourself to the world, and hoping someone else understands.”

“…revolution is, in fact, always unimaginable. It shatters the world you know. The future is unwritten, brimming with potential.”

“Victory is not assured. Victory may be in the portents, but it must be urged there by violence, by suffering, by martyrs, by blood. Victory is wrought by ingenuity, persistence, and sacrifice. Victory is a game of inches, of historical contingencies where everything goes right because they have made it go right.”

Content Warnings

Queen of Myth and Monsters

Scarlett St. Clair

3.0

adventurous dark emotional fast-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: N/A

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

I read King of Battle and Blood, the first book in the "Adrian X Isolde" series, just recently. And I was very into it. There was magic and battle and vampires and an enemies-to-lovers romance that went hard on the steamy front. So, I was pretty excited to see that the second book was already out. I was very interested in seeing where this story went next, after learning there was so much more history to the story of Adrian and Isolde than I'd originally thought.

Well, I was not quite as into this second book as I was the first one. The story and writing are fine, though a bit scattered, as St. Clair tries to address and move forward what feels like, perhaps, too many plot points. The steamy scenes, and there were, again, many, were still written really well (kudos to St. Clair again for that). I will say though, I got a little uncomfortable with the way the "fight and have sex" cycle didn't seem to get any better in this second book. I understand the need for that in the first, as enemies to lovers necessitates that vibe. But, now that Adrian and Isolde are clearly on the same side, if you will, I was frustrated that neither seemed willing to compromise or talk through any disagreements for real, they'd just yell at each other, unmoving, then sulk and feel guilty, then come back together later and have make-up sex without ever addressing the baseline issues, etc. It got tough to read. And even the reveal towards the end, about the way the goddess Dis is interfering with their relationship and Adrian's actions, was too little too late, IMO, to save my opinion of the couple's increasing unhealthy interactions. We'll see where things go in the next book (yes, I'm still going to read the next one and see where everything goes from here).

While St. Clair didn't really pull punches on the violence front in the first book, I felt like, in that case, it was still mostly in a way that empowered Isolde; I liked her as a bloodthirsty (encouraged by Adrian) heroine. In this novel, the violence gets...extreme. There is all the "normal" violence of a tyrant (think dramatic killing styles for "traitors" and mass killing to keep one's secrets, etc.). There is the magical beast violence (we get introduced to a number of canine/werewolf style magical animals in this installation, which feels a bit like an unnecessary nod to the "vampire and werewolf" trope, but they often exist together in folklore, so I guess I understand). And then there is violence against women, sexual and otherwise, that skirts the line of gratuitous. There is deep trauma from that type of violence rapant all over the plot and all the female characters, and I am not sure all of it was necessary to move the plot or character development forwards. I vaguely get the point(s) St. Clair is trying to make, about the inherent power of women, to face all that and find resiliency and strength anyways, to fight for themselves and each other, but it's just not quite done well enough. Really just, be careful and be ready for it before picking this book up.

While I am interested in the "let's conquer the world together" plans that Adrian and Isolde have, including how to regain her throne in Lara, and also free her mother's people, the part of the plot I wanted more about was the history of witches in Ravekka and Isolde's previous self and the rogue witch who stole The Book of Dis and what she planned to do with it. Well, I got the opposite here. I mean, the development was split between the two concepts, but the reveal about said rogue witch at the end left me...confused. Like, how was that the person behind it and how did they manage that reveal and what is their plan/goal? Just, really unclear. On the flipside, the conquering/invasion plans moved forward in a clear and understandable way. There was also *so much* backstabbing and betrayal; like, an unnecessary amount. It didn't feel dramatic, so much as trite, after it happened so many times.

So yes, Adrian and Isolde's characters were not as robust here as in the first book. They fell a little flat and into trope-like cycles, even though this second book should have been where they started to develop and grow together. There were some plot points I wished I'd understood more, and some that didn't feel necessary. And the experience of reading this got really intense at times. And yet, I am still for some reason wanting to find out what happens next. This series is just one of those easy, escapist, type reads, where I feel a little guilty about reading it (though I know I shouldn't), but go for it anyways, because sometimes that's exactly what you need as a reader. I recognize the red flags, but cannot help but cheer for a better ending for Adrian and Isolde, plus I'm a sucker for magic and vampires, so I'll be back when the third book is published.

“You do not have to have lived a hundred years, or even twenty. If your soul is tired, you will be tired.”

“Nothing is too long when it is goodbye.”

“I knew the truth of this world, and the only way to survive as a woman with power was to use it.”

“There is no comfort for this - not even in revenge - because trauma was a nightmare that clung to its victims with an iron fist.”

“You are the daughter of witches, as all women are [...] Magic is in our blood and bone; it is in the earth at our feet; it is in the very air we breathe.”

Content Warnings

VenCo

Cherie Dimaline

4.0

adventurous hopeful tense medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

Thanks to William Morrow for the review copy (and then a surprise thanks to Libro.fm for the ALC version). I love a story about witches, so I was pretty much sold on giving this a try just based on that. Even as I started to see some mixed reviews come through (as HarperCollins *finally* freaking worked through a contract with the Union, there has been a small flood of posts about this particular novel), I was still more than intrigued enough by the synopsis to pick it up and see for myself.

Lucky St. James lives with her grandmother, Stella (who is beginning to experience indications of dementia/memory loss), in a small apartment in Toronto. One evening, Lucky finds a spoon buried in a wall, a spoon that is stamped with the word "Salem" and gives off a mystical sort of vibe. This spoon links Lucky to a coven of North American witches who have been searching for years to bring together the owners of 7 scattered spoons. But a dark and powerful enemy is also searching for the final of the seven witches, and will stop at nothing to prevent them from uniting. With direction from their own dreams and intuition, the backing of the rest of the coven (and the financial resources of their front company, VenCo), and very little else, Lucky and Stella set off on a road trip across the United States to find the final spoon, the final witch, and fight for VenCo to usher in a new future for women and witches.

I'd seen some mixed reviews of this as they were finally able to start dropping a few weeks ago, so I went into this with tempered expectations, just in case. And while I think I am glad for that, and maybe that contributed to my own reactions, I have to say that I really enjoyed this book! At one point there is a description of the magic that Lucky has gathered and gotten access to along her journey as “a quilt of methods and beliefs,” and that's what this entire novel felt like to me. There was such a cool cultural variety of magical mythologies and histories, many North American-based, both Indigenous and grown from the traditions of many early colonizers/immigrants, as well as with a number of other diaspora additions. I loved reading each of the stories of the women of the coven, how they had come to find their own spoons and their place within VenCo - what diversity and honoring of the connection amongst women across barriers. It was a gorgeous ode to the variety of women, and their stories and interactions, that make up this region of the world. While it did make the magic, occasionally, a bit esoteric and ambiguous, I was also a fan of the way all the magic and power were based in intuition, emotion/feeling, and an acceptance/reclamation of one's past and identity. I get that that is not going to land for everyone, if you are a person that prefers set parameters to your magic systems this might be a frustrating aspect of this book. For me though, I thought it fit really well to the overall vibe and the fact that, in the race against time (and enemies) to find the final spoon, Lucky didn't really have the time to learn a lot of magical rules or structure anyways.

In addition to the magical, there was quite a bit of additional focus to this novel. The plot itself really brought it, with action and tension, as Lucky and her grandmother "raced" to find the final spoon. Their road trip adventure was a fun framework, and the comedy of errors/caper-style energy with which Dimaline wrote it kept things light, even as the pressure ramped up and the inevitable conflict with the evil tracking them down. And let's take a minute here to respect and applaud the horrible personification of patriarchy and capitalism that Dimaline created, a la Gaiman's American Gods, but with a more sinister real-life-recognizable twist...and with a spectacularly satisfying ending of comeuppance and well-deserved justice. Anyways, back to Lucky and Stella. Their grandmother-granddaughter relationship is so heart-warming, their bond giving both strength and exasperation, as all the deepest bonds do. A lovely centerpiece throughout. Finally, the way this novel wrapped up, with a sort of survey of covens everywhere reacting, left me feeling anticipation and promise and gathering in a way that I struggle to articulate but was so filling.

Altogether, this was a story full of energy and a mystical type of magic that sits well in the modern world: there and yet not obvious to anyone outside its boundaries, forged in the power of women coming together, defending and fighting for each other. There are serious notes about bringing down the patriarchy, capitalism and colonialism, but against a backdrop of delightful magic, an adventurous plot, and the fulfilling vibes of unbreakable feminine bonds. A very entertaining read.

“Is it still anticipation if all you are anticipating is nothing? No, it isn’t, it’s - dread.”

“First it gets weird. Then it gets absolutely amazing. Come on.”

“But don't worry so much about what others might think. As long as you can still think, that's all that matters.”

“No one can read what hasn’t been done.”

"Magic that takes root and grows in a particular place ends up being part of that land. [...] He was surprised the same people who went about their daily lives not believing in anything could also be the same people who spoke about deja vu or hunches with a straight face. Why did they think those things happened to them? The land. The land held magic like a giant sponge. It could hold it for centuries, and in isolation if need be."

"I am the daughter of Arnya St. James, defender of women, drinker of gin, fighter of assholes, a fierce half-breed from a long line of fierce half-breeds who took no shit and gave no fucks. I am a witch and I am here."

“Maybe the end of your kind has brought it not the end of the whole world. Maybe it's just the end of your world.”

Content Warnings

The Monsters We Defy

Leslye Penelope

4.0

adventurous hopeful mysterious medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

This was an impulse grab from the library a week or so ago, and, after finishing it, I am thrilled by that decision. The cover is really eye-catching and after skimming the synopsis, it just felt like it would be different from anything I had really read before...which turned out to be absolutely true. Plus, I really recommend reading the historical information afterwards, as I learned a lot about some of the "real" stories behind the characters that Penelope created/adapted for the novel, including the main character and the Washington DC "race riot" in 1919, as well as information about Black Broadway (U street), and Black youth with albinism being kidnapped and used in circus side-shows. Anyways, there was a lot about this novel that intrigued and entertained, so let me get to the review!

Clara Johnson was born with the "gift" of being able to talk to spirits. A gift that saved her a few years ago, when she spent time in jail after the 1919 race "riot" in Washington DC. But one that also haunts her, and has left her with a debt to a particular spirit, and Enigma, called The Empress. When The Empress offers to clear her debt if she steals a particular, and very magical, ring from a powerful personage, she takes the risk. However, the task is a pretty big one, so in order to pull of the heist, she gathers a team of others who have debts they too want to be rid of, including an actor who can change his face, a musician whose music has the power to hypnotize, someone who can make people forget short periods of time, and Clara's roommate, who has no debt to a spirit, but whose previous life in the circus left her with a lot of skills that come in useful in situations of theft. As this team plans their heist, they realize that the conflict over the ring in the spirit world is spilling over in their world, and they must complete their quest not only to get rid of their debts, but to save the entire city.

So yes, I have really never read anything with this setting before. The combination of time period, place and population was completely new to me and I really enjoyed the new experience. One, because that's a favorite part of reading for me, the new and never ending variety of perspectives. And two, because Penelope does a flipping phenomenal job bringing the setting to life. The sense of time and place is so vivid, from the day-to-day life and living arrangements to the clothing to the ways people spend free time to the social and political realities of DC's Black Broadway. This is historical fiction at its finest, as far as really bringing said history to life for the reader. It is clear that Penelope was invested in the research and getting this history told "right." And using such a solid historical setting as a basis for this otherwise magical and adventurous story was a fantastically deployed framework.

The magical aspects of this novel were also great. I really enjoyed all the different types of spirits, ghosts, haints, Greys, Enigmas, and the slight differences in their powers and connections to Clara. Paranormal stories of this vibe, that have the slightly spooky *chill* factor, but don't ever cross the line to truly scary, are my supernatural sweet spot. The idea of spirits granting "charms" with an attendant "trick," a la the "be careful what you wish for" trope, is not a new concept, but I liked how Penelope used it here. She was so creative with the way they were related, like a darker side of the thing a person wished for. And, of course, I can't forget the heist. Honestly, I just find heist stories to be fun and entertaining. And this was no different. The reluctant team-up aspects of this one (and attendant unexpected romance - *butterflies*) added a nice extra dash of drama and stakes. Seeing Clara start to bring down some of her walls, making friends with the rest of her team and starting to actually enjoy life, after her traumatic recent past, was lovely character development as well. While I'm on the subject of characters, I also want to recognize Clara's roommate, Zelda, as my favorite. Ladies that have those swashbuckling vibes are always my favorites.

This was such a lively and diverting book. I had fun following Clara et al on their magical heist adventures, as they went from teammates to friends and found their way(s) back to the lives they had always hoped to live. The plot and character development were well balanced and paced, and the historical setting was fantastic. Just a really solid read!

“The thing that was coming would play itself out, the way these things always did. Knowing something was going to happen and being able to stop it were two different things.”

“There was something worse than failure - hopelessness. She didn't want to believe that the hope burgeoning deep in his breast would be for naught. The taste of possible freedom was addictive, but now she wasn't certain it hadn't been poison.”

“Life was about surviving, putting one foot in front of the other to make it from day to day. She well knew it could also be about poetry and creativity and purpose. Camaraderie and friendship and love. But those had always seemed like lofty ideas for other people.”

“Those in debt are rarely satisfied with the terms of their deals. And those who think they can control the ones who owe them are often surprised.”

Content Warnings

Aftershocks

Nadia Owusu

4.0

challenging emotional informative reflective medium-paced

This memoir is one that I have sort of had on the back burner for awhile (after seeing a glowing review around its publication from @bookofcinz), and the time was finally right. Short intro here, but really that's the whole story, so I won't belabor it.

In Aftershocks, Nadia Owusu combines memoir with international cultural history and identity within Black womanhood, in (an incredibly creative) combination with a booklong metaphor around fault lines, earthquakes, and the titular aftershocks. Owusu details her blood (and non-blood) related familial history, from Ghana's colonial past to the Armenian genocide and escape, from living with extended family in England to her stepmother's Tanzanian roots and family, from attending American schools in Italy to moving and living on her own in NYC for college. With each location, she explores both the sociocultural and political histories and contemporary realities of the place itself, along with the space she occupies(occupied) within that: her own heritage, inheritance and experiences within these places as layers of her identity and influence on the person she is/becomes. She shows how each was formed...and how it then became the thing that contributed to who she became. And as the title indicates, this is all intertwined with both literal (natural and earth based) and emotional-relational (in her individual life) reference to seismic events and their after-effects. An incredibly ambitious framework.

While reviewing memoirs, I absolutely try to comment on the delivery of the "story," as opposed to judging the life itself, but in this case, I have to just say that Owusu's life was incredible to read. The breadth of experiences and places she spent her formative years was fascinating. And while I know that that lack of "home" or "belonging" is also, in part, what led to some of her later mental health concerns, it was just truly fascinating to read. I also want to recognize, as Oswusu does herself, that home is both a place and a people, so the intergenerational familial drama, and the fracturing within her home life, in combination with that transigent life, is what really created the instability re: her mental health. And she catalogues that interplay to perfection in this memoir. The way she plays loosely with time is *both* jarring to follow, topically and sequentially, and a deftly used literary device to impart her mental reality to the reader. There were times I loved that jumping around, and times I was more shocked by it, but overall, I respect the decision and what it did for the book. And, in all cases, the threads of tremors/earthquakes/aftershocks that were woven in, whether literal or metaphorical, comprehensively bound it together.

A few final notes. My least favorite sections to read were the "present day" pieces, the ones built around the week she spends at home in the "blue chair," dealing with an acute mental health break. They were short, and I understand their presence and how they fit (and very much feel for her and what she was grappling with), but for whatever reason I just struggled a little more while reading those. On the other hand, I particularly enjoyed a number of Owusu's reflections: on language(s) and their place in cultural belonging and/or distance; on the dissonance of being protected in a space of fear/terror alongside the easiness of letting yourself fall into the comfort of safety and not worrying about things outside that bubble (on her time spent abroad as an expat in countries experiencing civil war/violence), and on the way that her skin color and heritage meant something different (in regards to both interpretation and in the way she was treated/interacted with) every single place she lived. I also cannot really articulate how moved and impressed I was with her unflinching self-awareness, and willingness to call out and share even the "worst" of herself, her thoughts and actions/reactions to things, that most of us would do anything to not have people know.

This was a formidable memoir, insightful and educational and personal and (to repeat) unflinching. In one of Owusu's final sections, she "pours libations," recognizing and honoring (or at least simply accepting) everyone in her life that made her who she is, both the good and...less supportive. It was a phenomenal way to bring this book, and the astounding reflection on a life to date, to a close.

“It has always been difficult for me to say the word home with any conviction. When I was a child, I often felt like an outsider among my own family. Between me and them were borders - geographic, spiritual, cultural, linguistic. And no sooner had we arrived in a place than we had to prepare to leave it. My father used to say that no matter where lines were drawn, all human beings, all living things, are connected. We all belong everywhere on this small planet. We all belong to one another. [...] I was not supposed to ache for the people and places we left behind.”

“In me, private and seismic tremors cannot be separated.”

“History is a story, my grandfather said. I offer a friendly amendment: history is many stories. Those stories are written, spoken, and sung. They are carried in our bodies. They billow all around us like copper-colored dust that sometimes obscures everything. In those stories, we grasp at meaning. We search for ourselves, for our place, for direction. We search for a way forward: a woman warrior, a complicated man, an invitation home, a meteor, a lake, a child landing, with a splat. Destruction and creation. Changes in light, terrain, and atmosphere. Delicate new freedom. Hope.”

“Some things are out of the gods' control. And some matters require more from us than hope or prayer. They require us to see and support one another. They require us to defend one another. We must all, in the end, make peace with that.”

“Our voices, I think, are not just the vehicle through which we express ourselves, but also affect how we process and translate the world, how our dreams are made.”

“Knowing and accepting the inevitable are two different things.”

“I was fascinated by place because no place had ever belonged to me; nor had I ever belonged to any place.”

“How easy to forget that people not so far away lived in terror.”

"An earthquake is the ground breaking and the heart breaking. It is frictional forces and literary device. A fault is a weakness. A woman's body is a weakness. A wound is a weakness I can't help but pick at. Some wounds never heal. A story is a flashlight and a weapon. I write myself into other people's earthquakes. I borrow pieces of their pain and store them in my body. Sometimes, I call those pieces compassion. Sometimes I call them desecration."

“We become the stories we are told.”

“Judgement and shame are used to stop people from poking their fingers into the cracks of sacred stories, from peering into what is hidden underneath. We all have sacred stories, whether we like to admit it or not.”

“When our stories require us to pass judgement, to inflict shame on ourselves and others, to set ourselves apart, we cause harm.”

Content Warnings

The Haunting of Hajji Hotak and Other Stories

Jamil Jan Kochai

5.0

challenging emotional informative reflective medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: No

This is my third Aspen Words Literary Prize 2023 longlist read. And honestly so far this longlist is next level. All three (this, How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water and The Town of Babylon) so far have been 5-star reads. I wasn’t planning to read the whole longlist this year, but I may yet go for it, if what I am reading remains of this quality!

As this is a short story collection, I will do my customary short reaction-blurb about each story individually, and then end the review with final and comprehensive thoughts.

Playing Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain – Whoa. This story melds the weight of familial history and intergenerational trauma with a video game set in vaguely familiar environs in a sort of interconnected and disconnected dream state, with an imagined attempt to change the past in proxy (as impossible and fruitless as it sounds, but understandably emotionally worth the effort), that is powerful and intense. What an opening story. This sets the stage for a collection that promises to hit hard.

Return to Sender – A sort of Frankenstein parable situation, with metaphors and messages abounding that, while in specifics were maybe beyond me, in general message about the lost youth resulting from war, the childhoods cut short with finality in ways both physical and psychological, was cuttingly clear. Real life and metaphorical body horror combine profoundly in this one. “Do you understand that if we did a search for every missing child reported to us, that the search would never end, that all workings of this country would stop as they were, and that there would be no one left to protect the city from insurgents. No. Listen. Do you understand that if every single policeman in this city was to search day and night, search every apartment room, every alley, that the missing children would still never be found?”

Enough! – What a way to use stream of conscious/run-on sentence stylistically to convey the absolutely overwhelming build-up of emotions and tragedies and memories and grief that have built up over a life of wartime and refugee-life and ex-patriotism from one’s homeland from the MC to the reader. A story that makes the reader’s heart beat faster.

Bakhtawara and Miriam – A sort of mirror of possible paths, a woman wanting marriage though it ends in horror and a woman uncaring about marriage who seems to find a safe and solid match, the ways that life does not go as planned in any direction, and how sometimes that is for the better and sometimes for the worse. Understated and more quietly powerful, as a story.

Hungry Ricky Daddy – Phew. These stories just don’t let up. This story of hunger striking was the tragic sort of inspiring. The way a single person (or two people) can start something bigger. And yet, it is also a stark commentary on the way that that kind of momentum or movement doesn’t currently matter for anything, in the eyes of the world powers, unless the “right” (read: white) people are involved…and how they do not ever get involved in time or with enough effort to make a real difference. And yet, and yet, even in those world circumstances and without a traditional “leader” of the world to lend support, the faith and power of people can still create a movement. Inspiring and hopeful and absolutely, guttingly tragic, at the same time. “For I have not heard one of you interfere to stop the loud wail of death and the quiet torture of our dark bodies.”

Saba’s Story – A touching, and a bit quirky, story about trying to control things even when we know they are out of our control, and about our best attempts to make amends for the past. “And why must we always ruin what is beautiful with what is true?”

Occupational Hazards – An incredibly creative portrait of a life told through the occupations a person has, the responsibilities and hazards of each. The structure allowed for such a strong distillation of the most noteworthy aspects of each “chapter” of life, no frills or flowers; very poignant.

A Premonition; Recollected – Phew. For a flash fiction style length, this story leaves you cold, freezing over with the sorrow of senseless tragedy.

Waiting for Gulbuddin – I cannot decide what was meant to have happened in the story: was it real, or not? However, I think the message about the deep tragedy that is children being indoctrinated into and accustomed to violence as “normal” is strong.

The Parable of the Goats – This definitely read like a parable, though I am not sure I followed all the lessons it wanted to impart (pretty typical parable then, I suppose). Not one of my favorite stories of the collection. But really, I think the overall cycle of human cruelty and reprisal, its never-ending hurt, takes center stage.

The Tale of Dully’s Reversion – Whoa. This was another “transformation into an animal” tale, like the last, and I was anticipating being lukewarm on it too. But wow, I was wrong. This was an incredibly powerful metaphor on a number of levels. It exemplifies the way that the powerful only see what they want in the exterior of an “inferior,” and thus any interior knowledge or potential or individuality one has withers and wastes away. And there is an impressive portrayal of the cycle of violence and oppression: how a group of “saviors” ends up just perpetuating oppression, if in a marginally different enough way that it’s not immediately recognized, creating further groups like those they used to be trying to free people from oppression, and those groups in turn become the next iteration of oppression. Just…oh my goodness. “Often, he stared at his hands, touched his skin, and attempted to make sense of all the atrocities that could be committed against flesh, and this contemplation left him sleepless and depressed and afraid. He wondered why God had made humans so malleable, so soft, only to be torn apart on highways or systematically mutilated in dark chambers and black sites, at the hands of beloved men, until the mind could no longer comprehend the suffering of the body and destroyed itself.” / “The violence of erasure is perpetuated onto infinity in each instance of its denial.”

The Haunting of Hajji Hotak – A haunting final story, title-accurate in both literal and figurative senses. The invasion of privacy that is governmental surveillance juxtaposed with the way that it just shows each family has the woes and tribulations of any other, regardless of beliefs or past or nationality or connections. As emotionally affecting as it is intrusive – and after all, is that not what great literature is? Phenomenal final story.

Well, that was, overall, an absolutely stunning story collection. Honestly, with just one story that I was so-so on, I think this is now one of my favorite ever short story compilations. It took me some time to figure this out, and even when I finally clocked it, I cannot say that I could draw a map or picture of it, but all the stories of this collection are connected, creating a full portrait of a family’s intergenerational experiences with life in Logar, the onset/never-endingness of war in Afghanistan, the subsequent refugee experiences in escaping and immigrating, and life both in America and back and forth between there and Logar, the inundation of violence and violation in all stages and locations. It spans time and place, yet does so in an unclear timeline, which allows the reader to get a sense of this family’s story and a familiarity and comfort with the characters, yet in a way that leaves them feeling untethered/adrift because they cannot find a steady footing or place in the narration. What an incredibly well-used literary device to convey both the feelings of family belonging and sense of homeland-cultural displacement that are central to the realities this collection is bringing to the attention of the reader.

Kochai’s writing is a perfect mix of the illusory and mystical with a unrelenting view of harsh reality. The topics covered are complex and traumatic, but with an underpinning of hope, familial connection, and satire that marginally soften the blows. It’s both artistic and candid, which is a fine line to walk. I was flooded with emotion and investment with each narrative of Afghanistan and the Afghan diaspora, balanced with a more objective admiration for the writing itself. What a collection.

Content Warnings

The Swimmers

Julie Otsuka

3.0

emotional funny reflective sad medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Complicated

Loveable characters: N/A

Diverse cast of characters: Yes

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

This is not a book that was originally anywhere on my radar, but after seeing how much @thestackspod loved it (and she is pretty discerning in the fiction books that get her recommendation), I decided to give it a try. Plus, it's just so small - so definitely worth the short reading time to see what it was all about.

The swimmers all know each other by the traits and styles they use at the pool, the one place where they all find solace and escape from their outside lives. When a crack appears at the bottom of the pool and the facility shuts down, they are thrust out into the world without their normal outlet. For one pool-goer in particular, Alice, this swimming routine was the last tether holding her strong in the face of encroaching dementia. And as she starts to lose herself in the confusion and turmoil of memory loss, her adult daughter narrates the observation of her stark and difficult decline.

Reading this almost felt like reading two different stories, which was an interesting reading experience since it was already such a short book. The first two chapters bring the reader right into the world of the swimmers, all of them, in a style similar to that of Brown Girls, as a sort of survey of a population, their categorizations and differences despite this one (pool-going) similarity. This "survey" device is carried through the second chapter as well, as we see the myriad reactions of the swimmers to the crack(s) that appear(s). This chapter was actually my favorite, as the personification of the crack in the pool, everyone’s interpretations of its causes and motives and explanations, is both poignant and a bit amusing. What a way to showcase the breadth of humanity and our reactions to any event/situation, from the realistic to the absurd, the accurate to the extreme, the immediate and long term, in a sort of lightly satirical way.

From there, the story-telling takes a pretty big turn, as we move to focus on Alice, now being talked about in her daughter's voice, as all the details of her expanding memory loss are detailed in an incredibly poignant and emotional way. The minute detailing of the absolute arbitrariness of what dementia/Alzheimer’s “let’s” a person remember or causes them to forget, and the same arbitrariness of the disease itself, and the details of diagnosis, prognosis, what life looks like now, etc. is similarly affecting. The complete lack of judgement dementia has - the way there's no telling and preventing its arrival and your past and person are irrelevant in the face of it - holds a simultaneous universality and individuality to it that is quite affecting.

Stylistically, this was so creative in its portrayal of a life, a listing of what one remembers versus what one forgets, and how that’s not static and changes over time, but it’s all a part of who one is. It was tough to read because it was so aesthetically great, but when considered in terms of what it's communicating, in reality, about what a person loses as they lose their memories, it is heartbreaking. The daughter's incessant and excessive questioning of what caused the dementia, and what could have been done differently to prevent it, is a deeply recognizable hypothetical impossibility and manifestation of guilt and grief that humans cannot help but dwell within. And the reflection on the mother's lost memories mixed with the memories seared into the daughter's brain, along with a categorizing of what is left behind (both in memories and in possessions) as remnants of a person after a life ends, is equally touching.

I have some mixed feelings after finishing this novel. I thought that literally it was spectacular, with the crack in the pool as a metaphor for the crack through one’s reality when memory loss hits, as well as the irony of memory, in the way that one can lose it while alive but that's all that remains when they're gone. I was, however, thrown by the jarring shift in the writing style and perspective about halfway through. And while that, too, may have been a literary device to portray the jarring life changes experienced by Alice and her daughter as a result of her dementia, it was too much of a change, pulled me too much out of the flow, as a reader. However, overall, Otsuka really hits the reader in the emotions, in the way Alice's daughter speaks about her worsening condition and the reflections she has on what is taken from her versus what she retains. If you have ever experienced a loved one dealing with memory loss, there is a lot in these pages that will stir a variety of familiar responses, and a lot that will, perhaps, make you feel less alone in your loss and heartache.

Content Warnings

How High We Go in the Dark

Sequoia Nagamatsu

5.0

adventurous emotional hopeful reflective sad medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: A mix

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: Complicated

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

Look at this cover...gorgeous. Also, this was billed as being for fans of Station Eleven (which I loved) and Cloud Atlas (which I read a long time ago, way before I began reviewing/blogging, but do remember really enjoying). So really, mostly a no brainer on adding it to my "to be read" list.

How High We Go in the Dark opens in the year 2030, with a grieving archeologist who joins a team in the Arctic Circle that uncovers the body of a young girl in the melting permafrost, a body that, as it is being studied, unleashes an ancient virus. A virus that becomes what Earth will call the Arctic Plague, changing the shape and reality of the world as we know it for generations, for the entire future, to come. From the immediate impact, hundreds of thousands of deaths with no cure in sight, to the research into treatments and the industries that spring up around death and mourning, to the search for alternatives with virtual reality and interstellar exportation, to the coping mechanisms and rebuilding of generations down the line, these interconnecting voices tell a chorus of experiences over generations as they confront and adjust to a population- and planet-altering pandemic.

Whoa, was this ever correctly marketed! Amazing. This mixes the speculative fiction style of apocalypse/post-apocalypse life on Earth with the literary device of myriad interconnected stories/narrations (a la Girl, Woman, Other), with legitimate sci-fi theory and imagination, with spectacular metaphysical reflection on what it means to live and die, with truly impressive character development considering that each only gets a single chapter to make their individual perspective heard. Let me just focus on the writing to start. It was fantastic. Considering how many different MCs told this story, I felt that each was unique and had their own voice. This was maybe partially helped by the fact that the experiences they had were so different, and that listening to the audiobook (which was read by a full cast) meant each had its own different narrator, but still, I was impressed. The little details and side characters from each of the chapters that show up dispersed throughout the other sections do a fantastic job tying things together. Plus, this style was a great way to jump forward in time to get the highlights of progression over time, keeping things moving and the reader invested and not getting bogged down in the details of time passing. And beyond that, it was just really smooth, compelling, writing.

Topically, this was like a much-worse-than-COVID plague situation, combined with an environmental collapse that is also more dire than our present situation (though perhaps not *that* far off), so it was foreign enough to feel ok to read it, even as we are still coming out of our own pandemic situation. However, do be careful if reading something along these lines could be a potential trigger for you - there is quite a bit of death and death-related content. In fact, the themes of end of life care and decisions, grief and mourning, and moving on (or not), are central throughout, and the reader is treated to myriad ways that these things can play out as people figure out how to face these realities. I was absolutely fascinated by the array of industries that pop up around death, including euthanasia theme parks, funerary skyscrapers and hotels for the dead, robodogs with stored recordings, creative ways to spread ashes and hold funeral ceremonies, and more. It was both frighteningly capitalistic and also increasingly creative and artful, the way people created ways to comfort during end-of-life, to say goodbye, and to keep memories of dead loved ones alive. I especially appreciated, across the board, the highlighting of the importance of art for remembrance and honor and resilience of individuals and civilizations. Because this novel addresses not only the immediate hard truths, but also takes us into future generations, to explore how honoring and remembering historical tragedies changes across cultures and as generations get further and further removed (yet also shows how imprints of and some changes that resulted stay permanent). There was not a lot of delving into complications of diversity as far as race and queerness and other complicating factors (though definitely a recognition of socioeconomic differences), so that's depth of perspective that wasn't quite there. Overall though, inventive and incredibly moving.

I want to mention one other thing before closing this review: that last chapter though! I mean I was fully invested in and impressed with this novel anyways, but the framework that last chapter gave you to re-contextualize everything you had just read, the way it pulled not only this story but all of Earth's history together before it, together was so conceptually cool! There were a couple specific date/event mentions or callouts that crossed the line into a little too cheesy or perfect, but I understand the gravitas that gave the speaker, the assurance to the reader that they're speaking truth and not from their own (potentially misguided) self-importance, so I'm giving that a pass. Maybe cheesy, maybe trope-y, but it was unexpected enough that I ended up loving it.

For a book that primarily deals with and focuses on death/dying, there was just so much insight into life and living and healing, both during and post-tragedy, on levels both micro and macro, and I was really affected by this expansive, creative, and fundamentally human story. A surprise early contender for my favorite books of the year list!

“It’s time to wake up.”

“People like to forget about the sadness of the city […] They walk and walk. No one stops. It’s like we’re all still infected. We choose to be blind to each other’s suffering. It might make things easier to bear, but our hearts are cold.”

“In suffering, he said, we found our heart. In suffering, we found new tradition, a way forward.”

“Death had become a way of life.”

“Hope, love, ingenuity.”

“I don’t regret finding love and always thinking about possibility…”

Content Warnings

More...