This book burst onto the scene when it was first published and sounded so good. But I just wasn't able to get around to reading it right away. And then the second book was published and I figured at that point, I'd just wait and let this series be a binge read when all three were out (which, yes, was already almost a year ago, but I'm working on it!). Anyways, the time seems to finally have arrived. And I think I made the right choice, because after speeding through this first installation, I am feeling like this trilogy is the perfect candidate for a binge read situation. 

 

The island nation of Kekon is controlled by two syndicates, Mountain Clan and No Peak Clan, who control the supply of a rare and magical jade that is only found in Kekon. These "Green Bone" clans train warriors skilled in wielding jade and using the almost superhuman abilities it provides wearers. Years ago, the Green Bones were all united in driving out a colonizing force from Kekon, but since then, their split has led to a country of warring loyalties among the non-jaded ruling parties and the common tribute-paying business people alike. The No Peak clan is led by the Kaul family who, despite some simmering internal discontent, band together when the tension between Mountain and No Peak results in the beginning of a clan war that destabilizes Kekon and threatens the future of both Green Bones and the country as a whole. 

 

Well, as I already said, this first installation of the Green Bone Saga was infinitely binge-worthy. You drop right into the excitement and drama from the very beginning and it continues at a nonstop pace from there. Lee does an excellent job of balancing character background with plot development and I was honestly just swept away every time I picked up this book. For such a thick tome, it took me a surprisingly short time to read becasue it was just that immersive and page-turning. One of the biggest praises of this novel that I remember reading was that the world-building was exquisite. And I completely agree. It has that perfect mix of being grounded in the "real" world, whether historical or contemporary, to be compellingly familiar (post-colonial feels abound), but with magical additions and slightly altered names/stories that are make it different enough to be an escape (like Chakraborty's Daevabad trilogy, Kuang's Poppy War series, and Pike's Lost Queen books). It felt super real - very impressive. 

 

To go into a bit more detail about why this was just a super awesome and fun read, I first want to mention the syndicate/gang vibes. This is like, traditional Godfather-style "the actual power on the streets and in the country" type stuff. The Mountain and No Peak clans have intergenerational disputes and power struggles and they play out in graphic and fully dimensional detail. There are spectacular fight scenes, enhanced by the powers that jade-bearing gives the warriors, in addition to blood-thirtsy tactics, lots of scheming and maneuvering, betrayal and unexpected decisions, and the nuanced familial and brotherhood dynamics of clan life alongside and in contrast with the strict regulations of jade-wearing and rules of battle/conflict. It was fascinating and perfectly complex. There is also, as I mentioned, a bit of actual social observation made (as all good fantasy does), in regards to classism, addiction and anti-colonialism, that adds some depth but, at least for now, is not overly central or explored. The one thing I do wish is that I had a slightly better grasp of how the jade-based magic worked. Like, I understand the more of it you have, the more power you get. And, somehow, it seems to enhance basic human abilities, like making one stronger/faster. But there were a few other uses, mostly the way it was used against Lan towards the beginning, and then the way Anden uses it towards the end, that I felt were a bit vague. It's a baseline part of the world-building, so I do wish I'd gotten a better grasp of it here towards the beginning of the saga, but I am holding hope for more explanation to come the further into the series I get. 

 

The Kaul family that takes the central place, character-wise, was so well written. Kaul Lan, the oldest and politically-minded brother who feels he has a lot of legacy to live up to in his new role at the head of the clan (but is eminently up to the task). Kaul Hilo, the hot-headed and combat-minded brother, who leads the enforcement arm of the clan. Shea, their sister who, while favored growing up by their grandfather (and "retired" clan leader) for her shrewdness capability, is a bit on the outs from the rest of the family after studying abroad and forgoeign wearing her jade for the past few years. And Anden, the Kaul's adopted brother, who is about to graduate from Academy with quite a bit of jade-wielding promise and a deep sense of indebtedness to the family for taking him in. These four primary voices interact with each other and the rest of the supporting cast and plot with fully dimensional, and very human (with the flaws as clear as their strengths) characterization. The side characters were just as fantastically written, like grandfather Kaul's advisor Doru, Hilo's girlfriend Wen, and the leaders of the Mountain clan, and I'm looking forward to getting more of them (for good and bad) in the rest of the series.   

 

I was so entertained by this book. This is the reason the fantasy is one of my favorite/comfort genres - the mix of entertainment and escapism it provides when done well is unmatched. I disappeared into the Green Bone world every time I picked this novel up and that's everything I hope for in a book like this. What a rock solid start to a martial-arts, gang-wars inspired urban fantasy series. I can't wait to read the next! 

 

“Was it possible […] to be both a strong leader and a compassionate person, or were those two things opposing forces, pushing each other away?” 

 

“Mutual survival was the basis of brotherhood and loyalty, even of love.” 

 

Well, I did not know this was one of Reese Witherspoon's book club picks til I got the notice my hold at the library was ready and saw the stamp on the cover. A word. I, like many other readers, hate that shit. Get your name/brand sticker off the cover - the cover art deserves its own space and also just, it ruins the whole aesthetic...ugh. Anyways, I read Novic's first novel Girl at War, years ago (like it has to have been over 5 years ago, at least, because it was before I had started my official blog, so my review exists only on Goodreads. I remember loving it - being invested in it, learning a lot, etc. So I was excited to see her name on a new release. And then I learned it was about the Deaf community, something I've had very little exposure to previously, and was super excited for another page-turning and eye-opening read. 

 

True Biz revolves around the students and staff of the River Valley School for the Deaf. February, a child of deaf parents, is the principal of RVSD and lives with her wife, Mel, in a "just off campus" school-sponsored home. Charlie is a high school student who just transferred to RVSD from the local high school after a custody battle between her parents. She has spent years struggling to fit in as a hearing person, dealing with a number of complex side-effects of her cochlear implant. Austin is the golden boy of RVSD, a legacy of a generations-long deaf family. And while those three are our main perspectives, we also get snippets of the story told from seom fo the other students at RVSD, including Charlie's roommate Kayla, Austin's roommate Eliot and ex-girlfriend Gabrielle, February's ex (and a teacher at RVSD, Wanda), and others. Anyways, these characters all just want to live their lives, the mundanities of daily paperwork, high school crushes, the school play, etc. but are instead faced with financial cuts and healthcare decisions that throw their lives into deep turmoil that is out of their control and bring them together in a dramatic finale. 

 

Let me just say that this book had a *lot* going on. There are all the characters' and their individual worries and family drama and relationships and interactions that each get just enough page time to bring them to your attention (but not *always* enough to satisfy, as far as dimension of development). Of note, I liked the way the additions of single sections from various side-characters' perspectives were included. It allowed for nice insights into their POVs, as these are complex topics with lots to consider, but without actually trying to make the characters themselves more likable (understanding without "giving a pass"). However, as I said, they were more for awareness than depth, and those side characters still remained pretty flat. And then on top of all the individual pieces, there are the greater messages and educational points, about Deaf history and culture, about the nuances of ASL and Black ASL (BASL), about the ethics and morals of cochlear implants and teaching (or not, as it were) ASL, and more. And then there was the side-plot of Charlie's friends from her old high school and their anarchist philosophies and (violent) protest plans. I was incredibly invested from start to finish, and I am going to talk more about all of it as this review progresses, but I did want to just start by noting that, in an effort to include so much background and represent so many realities, there was a bit of depth that was sacrificed along the way. 

 

Now that we've touched a little on my one major-ish critique, I want to spend the rest of this review talking about how awesome this book was. Oh my goodness, I really liked it. As I had hoped, I learned so much about the Deaf community. The snippets of deaf history and syntactical/grammatical/artistic notes about ASL were fascinating. I super appreciated the pictorial visuals that accompanied the descriptions of the language - I practiced every single one (and am now looking into ASL classes at my local community colleges too). Of note, I listened to the audiobook version of this novel, which seems slightly counterintuitive but I am so glad I did because during the ASL portions of the dialogue, the audio narration was layered with the sound of a person signing the dialogue and hearing what that movement sounded like behind the vocal version was...wow, what an amazing experience. I highly recommend it, as a hearing reader. (But, as I did, I also recommend having the physical book on hand for the visual accompaniment. The dual rewarding experience here was wonderful.) As I mentioned earlier, Novic also touches on a number of complex and  intersectional topics, like the differences between ASL and BASL (which has paralleling lingual prescriptivism attached to it like AAVE does for hearing/speaking Black populations). And she ties it into the history of racism and segregation and ableism in the US to give it historical context as well. Again, this is more like a primer on these topics, but it's a deeply important layer to these conversations about racial justice that, for all my experience to date (which, at least in a literary sense, is reasonably representative), has rarely been included. 

 

One primary focal topic throughout was the tension between the Deaf and hearing communities, primarily, the way that the hearing world (especially parents and families) see deafness as something that must be fixed. There is a concentrated amount of commentary from February's experiences as headmistress and Charlie and Austin's familial experiences, that highlight the ways children are harmed by this deep push for "normalcy." The ethics of cochlear implants and other major medical decisions that parents make for their children (minors, who cannot legally make another decision), as well as genetic editing and practices like withholding of ASL, are a heartbreaking central theme throughout. Novic explores the false binary (created by the hearing world) of sign language and assistive technology and the resulting language deprivation (for the one that isn’t “chosen”) as a cruel and immoral reality for children. The vocabulary “modern institutionalization” was used to describe the isolation that results, the way that refusing to teach ASL, in an effort to force assimilation for English, and the following language deprivation of children who are stuck between not enough comprehension in the hearing world and never being taught ASL, is heartbreaking and visceral (as we see it through Charlie's eyes). And Novic provides thought exercises, presented as snippets of her deaf history lessons, woven throughout, to address these complex questions head-on, make the reader really interact with them, but not provide the answers. Because while some things are obvious, some are more grey-scale and deserve our time in considering the many facets. (Plus, individual preferences and worldviews must be considered as well. So, being handed the answers would be too easy.) A few of these philosophical thought-experiments reminded me of other works that tackle these topics (of deafness and blindness), like Haben Girma's memoir Haben and the MC in River Solomon's Sorrowland, that also present questions ilke "if accommodations are made for deafness and everyone could sign, would it still be considered a disability?," in the way that the accessibility of glasses/contacts has allowed being seeing-impaired to become a negligible issue. 

 

And finally, education. The financial issues RSVD faces are representative of a much wider issue of how little high-quality education is valued in the US. Yet again, and for yet another reason, the chant of "education needs more funding!" remains a steady chorus. This is a deeply necessary, imperative, change. Honestly, though the ending felt a bit rushed in comparison to the rest (like breakneck and slightly melodramatic), I liked that the anger from each of the characters over their lack of power to get/maintain access to basic educational (and related) needs had a chance to be expressed. That anger is real. And deserved. And the fact that we are left with a sort of nebulous resolution is a bit of a narrative "easy out," but does keep the drama very grounded in reality, because there isn't really a resolution IRL either.    

 

Although there was some unevenness in pacing and some aspects got only a surface level exploration, I still really enjoyed this compelling and unique coming of age/identity story. Charlie must find herself both in regards to what she believes and who she is, now that she is among her peers (not just "the deaf girl") and has a chance to get to know herself and finds a community to fight for. And with Austin and February guiding her (and dealing, too, with their own coming of age and "what do I stand for" issues), this whole novel can only be described as, that most cliche of phrases, "a love letter" to the Deaf community, their culture and language and the sense of self they can only find there, and I am grateful to Novic for sharing this world that she loves with the wider world that could/should to more to help preserve it. An awareness-raising, inspiring, and engrossing novel. 

 

“…when it came to language, more is more.” (assistive technology and sign language are not an either/or) 

 

“…all those years of energy poured into achieving the aesthetic of being educated rather than actually having learned anything.” 

 

“It is so damn depressing [...] that the biggest dream some people can muster up for their child is 'look normal.'” 

 

“…the kids whose parents’ affections were distributed on a sliding scale tethered to how well said kid could perform normalcy.” (oh my heart - that a child closer to hearing would be more worthy of love - I cannot) 

 

"What are the medical community's ethical obligations when it comes to preserving human dignity? At what line does the practice of 'designer babies' become unethical, and who gets to decide?" 

 

“She cannot decide whether the heart's craving for opposites - not only from itself, but from the others it loves - is its greatest strength or biggest failing.” 

 

Ahhhh the dangers of working in a library. I was checking in books a few weeks ago and this was one of them...and instead of carting it to get it back on the shelves, I ended up taking it home with me. Whoops. 

 

If This Gets Out follows members of the *extremely* popular boy band Saturday as they head out for the European leg of their tour. The four boys (Zach, Ruben, Angel and Jon) met at a summer music camp and, after an impressive "end of camp" performance, were picked up as a group by an agency. Things have mostly been going really well, but during this tour, the cracks start to show. Zach and Ruben begin a relationship, Angel appears to be having a worsening substance misuse issue, and the connections amongst the boys are starting to show the strain of a constantly "on" schedule and a lack of (emotional, health) support from their management team. Will their bonds, and their fan-base, prove strong enough to survive coming out, getting help, and standing up for themselves? 

 

This novel is told in alternating POVs, that of Zach and Ruben. As this was a co-written novel it seems like each of the authors was the primary "writer" for one of those two narrators. It was really interesting because I feel like that is such a cool co-writing concept, and addresses the fact that sometimes co-written works can be a bit jumpy. And yet in this case, I almost felt like the two voices were too similar - Gonzalez and Dietrich equally captured the teen boy voice so well, and in the same vibe, that I sometimes had to check back to see whose section I was reading because they blended together. I don't necessarily think that was a bad thing, as there was great literary continuity, but I think it would have been nice to get a bit more distinction, since they (I assume) have different writing styles/voices IRL. Regardless, this was well-written, keeping me engaged and interested with solid character and plot development in parallel. And though there was a bit of drag towards the beginning, between Zach and Ruden's first kiss and their follow-up discussions and decisions related to it, I overall felt like the pacing was good too. 

 

As far as the story itself, I have literally no frame of reference for this lifestyle, the press/image monitoring and true-self suppressing and every-minute-scheduled day-to-day realities (like how much does it suck to be traveling all over Europe but have no time to sightsee?!), etc. So, the accuracy/authenticity of it could be way off, but I bought into it - it felt legit to me, as a reader. On that point, the management company/team was like, the worst, like in a very real way. I mean, there was also quite a bit of teen angst and boundary pushing and other "normal" YA stuff that was real, but in a lower key and recognizable parts-of-growing-up way. And Zach's “what do these feelings mean” feelings, as far as trying to understand his own sexuality, are complex, but really well written. However, the controlling of the boys by their team, forcing Zach and Ruben to stay closeted (and gaslighting them into believing it was for their own good) and the total ignoring of Angel's clearly growing issues with substances, plus their overall way the situation chafed at the previously strong bonds amongst them, was so angering to read. Like, if any of that sounds triggering, please be careful with this read, becasue it was much more intense in that way than I'd expected. I was anticipating this being mostly fluff, as a reading experience (and looking forward to that), and it ended up being a lot more intense. I was super anxious for a solid chunk of the book, thinking about how claustrophobic the boys' lives were getting, and anticipating how badly things would/could go when it "all got out." 

 

I mean, there were definitely breaks in the tension where we got some wonderful butterflies-in-my-stomach vibes, the flutters during their first kiss were real, and there were a few other really adorable scenes as well, plus a few steamier ones (though all mostly "fade to black" when it came down to the really good stuff). And I really appreciated that once Ruben and Zach legit got together, they were totally together, swoonily-so (specifically, when they finally talk/share/figure everything out, it was *all* the butterflies), and then the stress transitioned to coming out/being overly managed. I am very glad we didn't have to deal with both that and on-again-off-again teen relationship vibes. That would have been entirely too much anxiety and not enough romance, for me. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. And though I think that the ending was perhaps slightly overly optimistic, considering everything, I did love the positivity I felt when I finished. The way the band supported each other through everything, no questions asked, was wonderful. I mean they each lashed out a bit when they were dealing with their own stuff, but when it came to being there for the others...they always were. That male friendship representation was super healthy and wonderful and I loved it. And was particularly important in the face of how much was stacked against them both publicly and privately (like, let's take a moment to all hate on Ruden's mom please - she was the worst.) There was also a very cool leveraging of the power of fandoms and social media to make the ending happen the way it did, which did feel super accurate and leant some credence to that too-optimistic situation. Plus, it was sweet, which was what my heart wanted, especially after the unexpectedly dramatic journey I took to get there.   

 

Well, this was a deeper and more emotionally complex read that I had been anticipating (talk about the "darker side" of fame, for real), with a sometimes suffocating feel. But the messages were important, regarding mental health and freedom of expression and parental expectation/criticism in the music industry, as we have seen in many real life situations over the past few years, and therefore very much necessary to recognize (and humanize). And in the end, the Zach-Ruben romance, all four bandmate's support/friendships, and the slightly fluffy ending did deliver the uplifting feels I was looking for. I really enjoyed my time reading this. 

 

“The thing about your dreams coming true is that, for a gold-spun moment, you catch a glimpse of what life could be like. Then when you lose it, and you crash back to reality, it's from such a great height, all you can do is lie there, winded and bruised…” 

 

“So, yeah, a part of me wants to protect him from the realities of what it means to be queer, and how it changes things in a million subtle ways. How it always leaves you a little uncertain if things are fair, or if there's a tiny shred of hate underlying it all. How, much of the time, you can't even call it out without turning people against you and calling you overly sensitive, because it can be so insidious, you're the only one who notices it for what it is.” 

 

“At the crux of it, everyone wants the world to see them as they are. The truth isn't the problem. The problem is that the world doesn't always make the truth safe for us to share.” 

The biannual (ish) poetry collection time has come again. I had never heard of this one before and chose it randomly from the poetry available at the library one day while I was shelving. That’s the danger of shelving time – it gives me the time to look through sections of the library with great detail that I may otherwise not venture to (or purposefully not leave myself time to venture to) and I end home bringing home books that I definitely do not have time to read on top of the rest of my unread TBR. Haha. Thankfully, at least poetry collections are short? And this one was phenomenal. So.

simpson splits this collection into four sections, thematically split (at least in my understanding), into their personal history and the way its unavoidably intertwined with colonization an intergenerational trauma, their experience in the world/their body as a trans person, reflections on sex work and their experiences with it, and finally, a reflection on their reconnection with themselves and the earth and tradition with a hope for finding healing.   

There is an intensity of emotion in this collection that is visceral and incandescent, especially in its rage and the collected grief of both generations and of an individual. In fact, I was deeply moved by the way that simpson managed to simultaneously convey the expanse of a universal indigenous trauma with their own unique experiences with trauma, as a foster child and a queer indigenous person (and as a sex worker, though I want to make sure this comment doesn’t paint all sex work as traumatic, as that is not my intention, nor did it feel like that was simpson’s message in writing). It was both boundless and intimate. And affective. 

I enjoyed the bit of play with language and form here, there was some wonderful literal and metaphorical wordplay about being a child in a closet and se glass, about how humans are (or are seen as) beasts, a poem written in the shape of a key, and more. But in the end, the greater impact of this collection was in the themes explored and the emotionality of the communication. The gorgeous flow of words that good poetry has were absolutely present. However, it was never so much the forefront that I lost the thread of what simpson wanted the reader to feel/know. I never questioned which emotion(s) a piece should leave me with because they all hit that strongly. 

The contemplation of “haunting” their family(ies), always there but never allowed in, was heart wrenching. As was the reflection on searching for love by trying to become what you think a person wants/needs, losing yourself in the process, and the inevitability of failure there. And the fact that that was learned (communicated and internalized), and nothing better was taught, and so the duality of victim and fault in that inevitability that exists is so much. Relatedly touched on, in a tragic and painful way, is the concept of disassociation and other negative coping mechanisms as unavoidable byproducts of myriad relationships without love (upbringing, structural, fetishization). 

And finally, because it is so deeply the starting point for all this trauma, I find that I want to point out one more time the way simpson calls out, calls to account, the legacy of how colonial and western religious thought was forced upon indigenous people. They illustrate, with no gentling, the way families/traditions are still lost and un-whole as a result, the [unnecessary] legacy of pain and damage and forsaking of one’s own heritage that have become contemporary truth. And yet, they still end the collection with a section of poems highlighted a return to that heritage, a reclaiming and relearning that holds a well of hope for a future of reconnection and freedom. And that hope is a dream and a rescue simply in its ability to exist.  Glorious. 

I think I have done this the last few times I’ve read poetry collections, so I’ll continue the trend here. There were a few poems that I particularly liked or had more reactions to or can’t quite get out of my head, so I wanted to just list those titles, for “posterity.”  Overall, all of part one just really rocked my world. “sea glass,” “teeth & sharp bones (a dialogue),” and “haunting (a poem in six parts)” are all from that first section and are really probably my favorite three from the collection. In addition, “beast,” “queer//rition,” and “about the ones i want to love,” were all 
especially moving. If you’ve read this, which sections or poems were your favorites? 

“i think they understand enough / when i cry out for home//land – / desperate in this diaspora: ravenous / to belong to a before.”

“…be it the malleable nature / of wanting, or the severity / of delusion: sometimes you want / to be wanted so badly / you forget yourself.”

 

Shoutout to @staxsonstaxs for the enthusiastic hype for this one. I was getting ready for a trip and was looking for plane reads - this seemed like the perfect mix of fantasy and entertainment and carry-on-friendly sized book. And friends, it was all that and more. 

 

The third daughter of a small realm, Marra is the type of princess relegated to the background (or, in this case, a convent). She's a little odd, not suited for royal life, and honestly it fits her well. But after realizing that while she's been able to escape the demands of her "station," her sisters have suffered at the hands of an abusive prince from a grander, neighboring country, Marra sets off on a mission to do something about it, to save her remaining sister, because no one else is going to. She fumbles through her quest with naivete and unmatched perseverance, picking up allies like a dog made of bones, a powerful dust-wife who can converse with the dead, a former knight recently freed from a curse, a godmother's whose magical skills are a bit darker than she'd like them to be, and a demon-possessed chicken. 

 

This novel opens by dropping the reader *right into* some serious horror-style stuff, like Marra's fingers and hands bleeding as she tries to fashion a dog from wire and old bones in a land filled with cannibals. Yikes! But the writing is so perfectly dark and atmospheric that it overcame any squeamishness I had about what it was actually conveying. And as the story continues and we get more background about what brought Marra to that pit full of bones in the first place, with details from her childhood and growing up in the convent, I settled right into the story that was unfolding. I loved how this novel began with the "impossible tasks" that are usually the meat of a fantasy-quest tale, but then they were just the start, the very tip of the narrative, a sort of buy-in for Marra for the "actual work" that would save her sister (on this note, real life horror and content warning re: physical and emotional domestic abuse). At that point, the shades of horror remained strong, but were never too much (though I hate teeth/teeth-falling-out stuff, so that scene was *almost* too much). And there was a subtle humor in the writing, the kind that recognizes and calls out the normally accepted (and sorta nonsensical) minor details of life, but does so with an aim at poking fun (kinda satirical, but not quite all the way there) and with very astute insight. All in all, it felt sort of Gaiman-esque, in those respects. 

 

This ended up being one of the most heartwarming, ragtag groups of mismatched people out on a rescue mission that I’ve ever read. They were all quirky and slightly "off" from what their stereotypical character would be in ways that were so endearing, edgy enough to be original but close enough to feel familiar. Speaking of, that combination really describes the entire reading experience for me. The simultaneous sense of recognition and foreign-ness in the novel is fascinating. Elements of so many different fairy tales are there and mashed up, so that they are like, right on the edge of my tongue, but I just couldn't bring a particular story/plot to mind exactly. I loved that. It was like reading a combination of all the background, practical, parts of a fairy tale, but they were brought to center stage and given the attention they don't normally get. And, my last story-telling comment: what an ending! Where we left each character was a great fit. Plus, the feeling of promise for the future, but also an undertone that things are not "all's well that ends well" (as it were), as a subversion of the traditional "happily ever after" fairy tale ending, was just right for this book. I was just so full and satisfied after I finished. 

 

There are a few other points I want to make, mostly related to the themes and social commentary within the context of this fantasy tale. First, as I mentioned, there were many insights that Kingfisher made with a subtle humor, through Marra's internal dialogue, that concisely, and with stunning accuracy, conveyed indictment of that uneven-ness (unfairness) of life. Like right from the start, they wrote something like "it was cruel to punish starving people for that they had been forced to eat" and like, what a sentiment (meant literally here, but think of all the metaphorical extrapolations as well)! I'll be honest, Marra’s naïveté and incredulity at his sisters' reality is…a POV that I wish all of us could have, that I wasn’t so jaded reading this that I thought she was silly-unaware. Real life can really suck. Speaking of Marra, her many roles (woman, sister, princess, nun) are contrasted with really well-crafted commentary on the various truths of moving through the world as a female. She was also a spectacularly written “reluctant heroine,” one of the most believable I've ever read. Her simultaneous loss of innocence and growth into her own strength of character in the face of brutal realities is inspiring and heartbreaking in equal measure, the exact right mix for someone with no resources taking every chance/sacrifice to right a terrible evil. Side note: I sort of read her as being austistic, or somehow on the autism spectrum, did anyone else feel that? Finally, the hardness/heaviness in the messages about how “not all ______” is a flawed argument were spot on. Like, just because your experiences are good with that population, doesn’t mean that everyone’s are and turning a bling eye only hurts people further. Ugh, such an important concept. 

 

Ok, let me just say, I have never found another book that made me want to write this description before, but this was such a wonderful and fascinating mix of dark-horror vibes and wholesome, heart-filling characters. Like, who thinks to combine those? But thank goodness Kingfisher did, because this was wonderful! I loved it, for all the adventure and character-strength-growth and magic and human insight. I highly recommend it! 

 

“…she was kneeling on the edge of a pit full of bones, in a land so bloated with horrors that her feet sank into the earth as if she were walking on the surface of a gigantic blister. A little wildness would not be out of place at all.” (What a description!) 

 

“If you had learned not to trust your own senses, you might wait too long to run from an enemy.” 

 

“…the history of the world was written in women's wombs and women's blood and she would never be allowed to change it.” 

 

“But everywhere’s dangerous if you’re foolish about it.” 

 

“It’s all just a little overwhelming, isn't it? [...] You've done so much and here we are and now it feels like there's so much left to do, doesn’t it?” (The best encapsulation of ambiguous anxiety that I have ever read.) 

 

“Nothing is fair, except that we try to make it so. That's the point of humans, maybe, to fix things the gods haven’t managed.” 

 

“You cannot help people who do not want help. [...] You can't force someone to do what you think is best for them. [...] Well, you can. But they don't appreciate it and most of the time it turns out that you were wrong.” 

 

 

But that title though! I mean, there really isn't that much more to say here - if you're going to title your novel something that makes me infer that witches and magic and royalty are involved, you'll pretty much ensure that it gets added to my TBR. Also, was I the first person at the library to check this book out once it made it into the system? Yes. Yes I was. 

 

As their adolescence began, five girls - Helena, Niamh, Ciara, Leonie and Elle - took their oath to join the sisterhood of witches that is Her Majesty's Royal Coven. And together they fought in the recent civil war between the witches and warlocks that wanted to take control of the world (and the ordinary humans) and those who wanted to continue their current undercover ways of life. All five women lost something in the war, whether it was a partner, a sister, their consciousness/freedom, a connection with HMRC. And years later they are all dealing in their own way. Helena has taken over as the head of HMRC. Leonie and Niamh have split from HMRC, Leonie to start her own coven for witches of color and queer witches with her girlfriend in London, while Niamh is working in the country as a vet and trying not to fall for the vegetable delivery guy. Elle is married and happily living with her family that has no idea of her prestigious witch heritage and talent. And Ciara is completely out of the picture. But when the oracles foresee the coming of a great evil that threatens all witches, and a powerful young warlock that seems to be the embodiment of that threat appears, these friends must decide on the best course and who deserves their loyalty (or their betrayal). 

 

To set the stage, I do think I expected something a little more along the lines of The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels, if not in humor/tone, then at least as far as the involvement of the British crown (I mean, the title has "her majesty's" in it). However, despite this being a much more serious and topically intense read, as well as a plot that had paralleling and equally central conflicts: the external "preventing the end of witches as we know them doom and gloom future" and a super internal-to-the-friends-group conflict over upholding the traditions of HMRC versus doing what is right for humanity. And the second one arguably does take an even more central stage, at least in this first installation of the series, though to be fair, it is intertwined with the wider issues smoothly. To that point, I really appreciate the strong messages about how the people you grew up with sometimes age into people you have to split from. And in some cases, not just let go of them, but truly shut them down. Nostalgia and historical bonds are not good enough reasons to let certain things (intolerance, bigotry) go - especially if that person holds a position of power and you have an influence/method of stopping them. Powerful.  

 

Before I talk more about themes (the messages and themes were strong and not super subtle) in this story, I want to comment on the story itself. It was great! Nonstop story and pacing that didn't sacrifice character development and relationship building. This was a page-turner for sure, getting all the background on the civil war and the friend's histories, while also watching the drama unfold in present time with the discovery of Theo, the powerful young adept (able to wield more than one style of magic) and the conflicts within the friends (and between the witches and warlocks) of how to deal with the prophecy about the future destruction. There is a great deal of magic in these pages, lots of telepathic communication, communing with the earth and spirits, invoking demons (and some of that was graphic - scorpions, ick!), healing magic, and the general respect for the natural world that is a staple of all witch-based theory (I loved that). The parallels of the “the talk” about puberty and sex and “the talk” here about magical ability were super enjoyable, considering my line of work - I chortled. And the mingling of witchcraft lore and Christian theological mythologies is well done. Also, I was into the take on prophecies as general harbingers of change, but the specifics can be changed by a choice/free-will being exercised. 

 

Overall, just super entertaining, as stories go. And that ending: I cannot believe Dawson really went for it with Helena at the very end, she was a major character to pull a trigger like that with, and I was here for it! Plus there were a great couple twists/set-ups that happened towards the end that I think set up the rest of the series nicely. There is one aspect that's just not a favorite trope for me (to keep it vague, body-switching/spirits inhabiting someone else's body is just not my jam - I got annoyed and mostly stopped watching when that became a plot point in both The Vampire Diaries and Supernatural), but I am invested enough, I think, to continue regardless. 

 

In addition to all the magic and action, there was definitely a heavy dose of reality in this book, the intense and not very good kind of reality. There was really clever commentary on legacy - and policing it - and race and gender and talent vs heritage, and a definite move to address intersectionality and inclusivity. In some cases, this was done well (I'll address that more in just a second). Dawson did a really nice job demonstrating what happens when prejudice goes too far, for the person "leading" the intolerance charge and for their followers. She shows how fear (of the unknown/different) pulls people far past where they would normally go/ever would think to go; it happens in small steps of convincing yourself that each little move is alright, and you end up at an end place that's a "big step" you would never consider taking all at once/on its own. And then the mental gymnastics that must constantly happen in order to convince oneself that you didn’t go too far/you’re not a bad person. Yeeeesh - it was tough to read, like a trainwreck and I just couldn't look away, even though I *knew* it was going to end badly.  

 

In some cases, I would have liked a little more depth and nuance. Leonie's new coven, Diaspora, was a great attempt, but  was missing a little depth. Plus, the trans witch from Diaspora that was on-page felt one-dimensional to me. Also, I felt like the visit to the "frowned upon witch" who required sacrifice to commune with the dead was...I don't know. I mean, I understand why the book made it seem like she operated in the shadows (a reflection of actual society, of course), but still Leonie's disgust came across strongly and I had hoped for more internal acceptance at least. However, in both cases, I am willing to extend some grace, since this is a planned trilogy, and I'll hope for more development of these aspects now that the stage has been well-set and further detailed plot/character development can be a greater focus. 

 

Finally, the queer aspects, because being trans was central to this story, both as far as the plot goes, and in regards to character development. The general idea was similar to Cemetery Boys, both books using a very cool magical way to showcase gender as natural, inherent, despite the body you’re born with. Love. Content warning for major transphobia and anti-trans language and TERFs and more. It was a lot. All the "buzzy" arguments are mentioned, and it's super not subtle. The propaganda and staunch, fanatical, bigotry against trans people, without taking the time to know them or making a single effort to understand/accept, is…visceral, and all too freaking real. So potential readers, do be aware of that. Of note, there was also, to counter-effect, beautiful acceptance and defense and love of transness. 

 

This opening novel had so much magic and friends/sisterhood in it and I love it for that. It looked intensely at the way the world hurts us all, in different ways, and we hide it (or not), but it wins if we hide too much out of fear/embarrassment/internalized guilt and then divide over it. It was quite affecting. Though I'm hoping for more intersectional development as we move forwards, plus more inclusion as far as other covens/different forms of magic use, I'm also definitely into the overall story and vibe and the trajectory of these characters and I'm definitely wishing the next book was already out! 

 

“It’s a life skill, finding the sweet spot between solitude and loneliness.” 

 

“…all history is narrative. If you weren't there, it's a story.” 

 

“Nature is destructive. To pretend it isn't is to be at odds with the world.” 

 

If this cover doesn’t catch your eye, I really don’t know what to tell you. Haha. But in all seriousness, I was feeling in the mood for a romance and this one was both on my TBR and available on the “new books” shelf at the library. 

D’Vaughn and Kris are both contestants on a reality tv show, Instant I Do, in which people are paired with a complete stranger and must convince their families that they are in love/engaged and plan a wedding together over a six-week period. This season, the show is focusing on queer couples, so D’Vaughn is using it as a chance/push to finally come out to her family. While Kris is there to, despite how cheesy it sounds, find true love. And building her social media brand up at the same time would be convenient. As the two spend time together, they realize that actually, their feelings for each other might mean even more than the money they could win be “making it” though the full six weeks of the show. 

I know I have said this before, but the reality tv setting is getting really popular in recent romance releases. And despite the fact that I don’t watch them myself, IRL, I have enjoyed reading about them (Rosalie Palmer Takes the Cake and The Charm Offensive being two notable favs). So I didn’t really read too much into the details of the “show” in this one, I just clocked it was a reality tv situation. If I’m being really honest, that might have been a mistake for me here. The concept of this show actually made me really uncomfortable, in the squirmy way. Like, maybe if your “partner” was not a good match for you and you don’t make it very far into the six weeks, it would be different. But the idea of lying to my entire family about something as serious/emotionally invested as being in love with someone, like legitimately going out of my way to include them in something that was most likely fake, feels wrong to me (especially for people as close to their families as D’Vaughn, and especially Kris, were). So even as the rest of the story unfolded, that sense of discomfort remained a constant background “noise” for me, and really affected my overall reading experience. 

As far as the romance itself, it was fast (obviously), but I did feel the chemistry between D’Vaughn and Kris. The physical chemistry in particular was spectacularly written. I also loved the unquestioning emotional, from the very beginning, between the two, especially in the way they dealt with each other’s families. Their dialogue together was sweet (pet names were used to adorable effect) and snarky, a great combo. And the ebb and flow, but steady rise, of D’Vaughn and Kris’ relationship was exactly what I wanted – there was conflict, of course, but no “last minute breakup” or manufactured miscommunications/drama (well, other than the completely manufactured show situation), but I felt even that was never really as big a hurdle as it could have been. In addition to their romance build, I did think the focus on coming out, the ways people can be supportive and not be at all supportive (even when they think they’re being an ally) was well done. It was complex and nuanced and emotional in ways that felt very genuine.  

The development of the show, the way the “challenges” worked, etc. did leave something to be desired. Like how is the point to try to get people to legit say “I do,” but also not give them that much time to get to know each other outside of time spent with families? The involvement of the EPs, the filming, and other details felt uneven too. Also, the challenges themselves just weren’t that inspired. But all in all, I guess it did provide the scaffold for the rest of the story and that was the point of it, as a plot device and vehicle for relationships development.   

While there was some deeper emotional exploration and reactions to the coming out/diversity/acceptance aspects, this was overall just a cheese-basket of tropes. It was fast and entertaining and not a new favorite because of the show set-up, but I was here for the rest of it, for D’Vaughn and Kris’ happy ending.  

 

A year or two ago, I read Fajardo-Anstine's story collection, Sabrina & Corina, which was a favorite of mine that year. I loved the grittiness and the homage to land/ancestors and the feminism all mixed together to great impact. Needless to say, I was excited to hear that she was coming out with a full-length novel, and even more excited to receive an ARC from Netgalley. 

 

 

Woman of Light follows five generations of the Lopez family, over the years as the land they live on transitions from The Lost Territory to present-day (or, an early twentieth century version of) Denver. Everything focuses around Luz (the titular woman of "light"), a tea leaf reader and seer, in the 1930s. She lives with her aunt, Maria Josie, brother, Diego, and is best friends with her cousin, Lizette. Over the course of a few years, we watch as her brother must leave town for his own safety, Lizette plans her wedding (and wedding dress!), Maria Josie settles into her life (and love), and Luz struggles with both her feelings (the "safe and comfortable" Avel or her boss, a young attorney - and womanizer - David) and what she wants for her life. This family drama all unfolds against the backdrop of racial unrest and police brutality, told in turn with the stories of the past (the lives of Luz's parents and grandparents), that brought the Lopez family to where they are today. 

Y'all, I badly wanted to love this book more than I did.  I liked it, but I didn't love it. It had so much promise, and so many of the themes were in line with those that I loved from Sabrina & Corina, but there was just something missing, or just a bit off, here for me. A lot of it came down to the writing. It was fine, good even, in an overall sense. But the issue for me was that this was marketed as an adult book and it just read *so young.* I mean the themes were incredibly mature. The main characters were 18 (plus or minus) and (especially for the time period) were definitely considered adults and lived adult lives/responsibilities. And yet, for all that, this book reads *so* young, and not just like YA young, but like...naive, young. The sweetness and innocence to Luz started fine, but as things began to happen in her life, and she "saw" more and more of her family's history, the fact that it stuck around felt somewhat incongruous. It was an interesting narrative juxtaposition, the presentation of such intense, serious topics (CW: racism/slurs, animal cruelty, colonialism, hate crimes, police violence, misogyny, and more) in such an innocent voice. It was kind of like a tall tale or western themed fable: there’s a message about society, but it’s passed on within a sort of fantasy/fairytale-like narrative. And I can see what it was going for, I think. But it never really landed for me. 

Also, and perhaps this is because I have recently read some other truly phenomenal, and much longer, family saga type novels (The Arsonists' City and The Love Songs of W.E.B. du Bois, for example), even the intergenerational family story and drama seemed...too surface-level and a bit too simple. So it could easily just be a situation of bad timing and/or not the right reader, but this one just didn't quite hit the spot. 

I do want to recognize a few things that were really well done and/or that I respected, even if this wasn't a new favorite read. I enjoyed the highlighting of a time/place combination that I do not know much about, from an intersectional perspective. The predominant "wild west" and "depression era" narratives (along with most everything in our nation) are white and cis-hetero. This was a fantastic highlighting of the sheer variety of peoples that make up this nation/land, obviously focused on Indigenous and Chicano families here, but with inclusion of other races and nationalities (Asian, recent European immigrants) and how they intermingled (or didn't, as it were). 

Fajardo-Anstine does a wonderful job, too, of showing how the intolerance of our nation was universal and widespread; the Klan was not just a Southern thing and police violence (and upholding of the legacy of white supremacy) has been endemic against all minority populations since...well, since the arrival of white people on the continent. As has the fight for real justice. I enjoyed seeing some recognizable aspects (like, did I correctly interpret the reference to the "start" of Red Rocks as we know it, as a performance venue, today?). And, there were some vibes similar to When Two Feathers Fell From the Sky that were also really interesting, like looking at these less-well-known parts of history (a similar time period, though very different parts of the country) and some really unique show-boat type jobs (in this case, snake charming and tea reading and sharpshooting). Last, is it just me, or were there some aro coding/vibes around Luz? Whether or not it was purposeful, that's how I chose to read her, and I liked it. 

I'm not sure how to wrap up my thoughts about this novel. It was fascinating, as far as exposure, for me as a reader. I was interested in it, for the most part; the characters were original, the plot was well-paced, the themes were compelling and the emotions were correctly placed (remembrance, anger, hope, heartbreak, contentment, etc.). The sense of place and time was spectacular. Plus, the ending was...*chef's kiss*...as far as looking towards a brighter future while still shining a light on the past/ancestors. To that end, the title was also spot on with its meaning and named-based wordplay. And yet, it felt sort of under-developed in the way it was all brought together. Or told in the wrong voice. Or none of that and it just wasn't the right fit for me. Who knows.  

  

 

“Pidre came from a storytelling people, but […] he couldn’t help but think that Anglos were perhaps the most dangerous storytellers of all – for they believed only their own words, and they allowed their stories to trample the truths of nearly every other man on Earth.” 

 

“When an officer decides to murder a member of the community, it is not one life snuffed out. It is a web of consequences – on killing damages a thousand lives.” 

 

“The fact that the protection she craved from men was mostly to ward off incidents with other men frightened her.” 

 

This book was marketed as aliens/space and violins and donuts and queer and bargains with demons, honestly, there's nothing there I don't love (or, in the case of the demon-bargains, I at least love reading about them - the demon was my favorite part of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, as you know). So. This was promptly added to my TBR list and here is its moment! 

 

Shizuka Satomi is known as the Queen of Hell, having made a deal with a demon, she must now trade seven souls (violin prodigy souls) to save her own. Katrina Nguyen is a young transgender girl, a runaway, whose violin playing in a park caught Satomi's ear. Satomi only needs to deliver one more soul and Katrina is willing to trade almost anything for a safe home and, in this case, a chance to learn under Satomi's tutelage. It's a perfect match. Except for an interstellar refugee, Lan Tran, whose donut shop and eyes full of stars, along with Katrina's unorthodox musical choices, cause Satomi to realize that maybe there is another option, and the lives of these three women (plus, a few wonderful additional female side characters) become intertwined in a way that just might thwart fate. 

 

This was a much more lyrical, slower-paced story, than I had expected. For some reason, I had a fast-paced space adventure story in mind, but instead got an earth-based reflective music and self-discovery journey story, that was so much more soul-touching (pun intended) than I had been prepared for. In the best way. I will say that, if you plan to listen to the audiobook, I would recommend having the physical copy around as reference, because it felt a bit jumpy to listen to. The style of writing is lots of short sections and there is not a clear indicator for the transitions in the audio. So, with the character in focus changing that often, I found that, if my attention wandered even a little, I would lose track of the thread of who we were following. It got easier as I got to know the characters better, but wanted to give a heads up. 

 

On to the story itself. First, it’s just one of the most unique setups for a story that I’ve ever read: a soul-stealing demon agreement with violin prodigies, a trans runaway looking for a better future, an intergalactic family running a donut shop…like, what?! Who thinks to put those things together? I love it! And past that, this is one of the most quietly tender and compassionate novels I’ve ever read. There is no shying away from how terrible the world, and people, can be – no disingenuity on that front – but past that, the softness and warmth I felt from most of the main characters’ interactions with each other was unmatched. Honestly, even past the main characters, to the rest of the phenomenal supporting female cast, like Shizuka’s housekeeper Astrid, Lan’s Auntie Floresta and daughter Shirley, and the violin-repairer Lucy…there was such a depth of feminine support, facing myriad challenges: being a trans women, being a woman in a male-dominated field, being a refugee, being an AI woman. The levels of acceptance here spread both wide and deep, fully intertwined, with gorgeous recognition of the ways that moving through the difficult reality of survival can become a skill and a benefit, giving something beautiful to the person just like any other skill or trait (though with its attendant self-consciousness and concern as well, in equal measure, like everything else in the world). Honestly, Aoki writes with such lovely insight into the human condition and it, like I said, warmed the soul of this reader.    

 

I also must mention the profound reverence in the writing for the things that make a person feel safe and whole. Specifically, there is a heartfelt highlighting of the immeasurable and undefinable things that make music (violin) and food (primarily donuts) something special. The appeal to the senses, the way music and food can make you truly feel through sound and taste, was written with a precision and appreciation that I’ve rarely seen. The way Aoki is able to convey the power and pull of (especially) music through words is…stunning. One of the best parts of this overall wonderful novel. 

There was so much heart in the pages of this book. I am having a hard time expressing how much it meant to me, and I am not trans, not a musician, not a baker/cook, not a (literal) alien refugee. But I have feelings, and Aoki wrote a story that is impossible to not connect with emotionally. If you want to read something that fully embodies the sense/feeling of belonging, this is it. 

 

“But Hell favored people who recognized their brilliance, who believed they deserved success, would have success, were it not for a flaw, a disadvantage they could never overcome. […] What made each of them right for Hell was their need for a lie, a façade so powerful, so intoxicating, that they could believe it themselves.” 

 

“But now there was understanding. And with understanding, all things were possible.” 

 

“Tomorrow is tomorrow. Over there is over there. And here and now is not a bad place and time to be, especially when so much of the unknown is beautiful.” 

 

“One does not play memories of music; one plays music itself. And lifetimes, from beginning to end, are as sheet of music, ready to be played.” 

 

“It’s more than my hands It’s my body. Everything it’s been through, everything it’s felt. It’s all part of the way I play. Sure, it’s not perfect, but it’s mine. That’s good, isn’t it?” 

 

“…what matters is not the body, but who inhabits it.”