“What is a whole life? If you die when you’re still a child, is your life whole or half or zero?” 

 

The title is what first caught my attention about this book. For real, what a great title! I feel like you can't tell me that you wouldn't at least be interested in reading a blurb to find out more about it. Which is exactly what happened to me. I held off for a minute after reading the blurb though, because to be honest I find that books written by adults from a child's perspective can be hit or miss, at least for me. But as I followed reviews from other readers, it seemed that consensus was that Anappara handled that aspect well. So I decided to give it a go. 

 

Jai lives with his parents and sister (Runu) in a basti (basically, a slum) in an (unnamed) city in India. He spends his days in school, avoiding chores/homework and arguing with his sister and wandering the local market lanes. When a child from their basti disappears, Jai (who has spent many hours watching Police Patrol on tv), convinces his friends Pari and Faiz to help him as detective "assistants," trying to investigate and track down their missing classmate. But things escalate when more children start disappearing, the police aren't doing anything despite the pleas of the basti parents, and religious tensions grow dangerous as blame for the missing children starts getting thrown around. 

 

Let me just start by saying that I agree with all the readers who felt like Anappara wrote from a child's perspective with authenticity. Jai's voice is the exact right combination of innocent and earnest and oddly insightful, without veering into being too precocious so as to be unbelievable or too childish as to be annoying to read for a full-length novel. And in reading the Afterward, she talks about wanting to highlight, with the POV she chose to write from (and in light of the statistics of the “epidemic” of missing children in India), the “resilience, cheerfulness, and swagger” of the youth that she has spoken with through her time as a journalist. For what it's worth, I feel like she did that, while still showing how deeply they were affected by the violence and loss around them. As I talk about the writing, I also want to point out that Anappara can set a scene with the best of them. The portraits of the basti and the families and the realities of poverty and girlhood and the disappearing children, all of it really, was so fully rendered - this may be fiction but it was as tangible as reality. It's clear that she really knew the spaces she was writing about. Lastly, as a stylistic writing choice, the little "ghost" stories that she began each section with did grow on me, by the end, but honestly they just never flowed, literarily, as well with the rest of the novel as I would have wanted; though they were on point topically. I did, however, love (in the sense that I loved what they added to the depth of the novel, not that I loved what they were telling/showing), the intermittent chapters from the point of views of the last moments of each of the disappeared children. Heartbreaking, but they really gave the novel an extra something that it needed. 

 

There was a well-balanced mix of "plot" and exposition in this book, that I think easily could have swayed too far one way, but never did. The mystery piece, as the basti residents (and of course our intrepid detectives Jai, Pari and Fai) gather information and details and the number of missing children increases, was paced nicely and had enough info to satisfy us as readers while not being more than these characters might have known/had informational access to. Simultaneously, Anappara's skill in setting the scene unfolded, giving the reader clear and unforgiving insight into the social/structural inequalities and dangers of poverty/religious minority in India's slums. Addressing topics from homelessness/begging to sexual assault to general lack of political/administrative care to the details of the education system (and the way so many children of poor families have less access/must work instead of attending, etc.) to the limiting expectations/options for girls, the knowledge from her journalistic exprience and background provided such a fullness to them. In addition, the way she wrote about how rumors/word spread, the way stories are trumped up with retellings (to the harm of innocents - the victims and minority groups and others without proof), was so compelling. Plus, the reality she portrays, with how communities are incited and react in the face of no support from police/policy makers (when any chance at justice falls to the hands of the masses) is a horrific, contradictory, and universal truth.  

 

Overall, this was quite a heavy story, especially the ending. It's very literarily well done, but the lack of clarity and conclusion is frustrating (for the reader) as well as difficult (in the heartbreaking way) to read, but also....very real. It's in some ways softened by the child's point of view that tells the story, and in some ways made worse by how aware the reader is of the loss of "innocence" as it happens, even if the child isn't (at least not on the same level). I thought this novel was immersive and gripping as far as the writing, though not particularly lighthearted or easy-going topically, and with that caveat, I really "enjoyed" reading it.  

 

I got this one at a used book sale, maybe at the library, years ago. And it's been sitting on my shelf since then. I am not really sure what drew me to it, though the simplicity of the cover design is kind of appealing, so maybe that was it. No matter, as I said it sat unread for years. And I'm over here doing my level best to read through my backlist owed-TBR, which is not overly successful, if I'm being honest, but I'm working on it. And here's one I can check off now! 

 

Lab Girl is a memoir from scientist Hope Jahren. Starting with her (emotionally and temperate-ly cold) childhood in rural MInnesota, through her time in school and learning the mix of heart and hands that "real" science takes, and on into her career in science, from the lows (scarcity of funding, travel disasters) to the highs (the students, the places she gets to visit, the discoveries).  Throughout it all, we watch as Jahren deals not just with her career, but with mental health struggles, dealing with the emotional closed-off-ness she learned in childhood, the start of her own family and, most centrally, her relationship with her lab partner and best friend, Bill. 

 

I have to be honest and say that I was overall lukewarm about this book.  There were a number of really cool aspects to it. And Jahren's accomplishments in her field (geochemistry and geobiology) are myriad and, to the best that I understood them, fascinating. The tidbits about her research, and the general knowledge about plants and seeds and soil, that created the framework for this memoir were interesting. And I appreciated what she tried, stylistically, using science/nature facts to parallel her life changes/milestones, but it just didn't quite work for me (though it did get clearer and more settled as it went). I wonder if perhaps my timing was off for reading this, so close on the heels of finishing Braiding Sweetgrass, because although the perspectives and tone are very different, the general topics and format were reminiscent of each other to point that it was hard not to compare (and Braiding Sweetgrass just had a flow that worked better for me). Potentially it was the tone with which the story was told. Jahren's writing felt...prickly...almost. And I just never got into a rhythm with it. (Of note, I did deeply appreciate this tone when she was discussing the way science funding works, and is available, in the US - because the conversation about it, the impossibility of being asked to gain knowledge/make discoveries while not being given enough to make a living with, do deserve to be deeply called out and addressed). 

 I did really like the development of the central relationship, that of Jahren and Bill, over the course of their lives. It is clear that they have a special and very unique bond - something that works for them and though it's not perfect, is what the other needs. The way they essentially grew up together, as (the) primary and often solitary touch point for each other, was deeply touching. Sort of related, ish, I want to note how the mental health aspects of this book (the mental illness issues that Jahren deals with) are a bit more intense than I was expecting, based on the inside cover blurb. PLease be careful going into this one if you would have trouble reading about depression and manic episodes, as well as mental health struggles during pregnancy. 

 

Overall this memoir felt a bit jumpy overall, with the personal life and plant science and academic commentary mixed in a way that just never found it's stride, for me. The tone felt a bit harsh/judgy and, though sometimes it was warranted, other times it made me uncomfortable. And while I really want to fully respect everything Jahren has accomplished (and I do, I mean that doesn't change), I also am finding that I am frustrated with the way she highlighted the unhealthy work-life balance that's expected of scientists, that she has lived, without really critiquing how unhealthy iit is....she just kinda of continues to act like it was ok that that was normal (even praising the "always in the lab" lifestyle of students she worked with later in her career). Similarly, she complained, rightfully so, a number of times about the way she was treated as a woman in science (a major and insidious issue), but I felt like there was never, even as she got more established and held more influence/power, a revisiting of the issue and attempting to do something about it or make it better for future female scientists. I get that not everyone is/wants to be an advocate in that way (and maybe she has done stuff and just didn't want to address it here), but it still felt a little incomplete, even disingenuous, to bring it up and complain about it but (seem) not to do anything about it. So yea, there were some parts of this that were good, some that held promise and didn't deliver, and some that just vibed wrong with me. But if it sounds interesting to you, I'd say to go ahead and experience it and see for yourself.  

 

I really want to respect her and all she has accomplished (and I do) but I feel like she has bought too much into the unhealthy work life balance of lab and science culture and I wish her gender issues would have led to a greater across subvert of the culture; 

 

“…I navigated the confusing and unstable path of being what you are while knowing that it’s more than people want to see.” 

 

“I wanted to be studying plant growth, but science for war will always pay better than science for knowledge.” 

 

“A true scientist doesn’t perform prescribed experiments; she develops her own and thus generates wholly new knowledge.” 

 

“Public and private organizations all over the world have studied the mechanics of sexism within science and have concluded that they are complex and multifactorial. In my own small experience, sexism has been something very simple: the cumulative weight of constantly being told that you can’t possibly be what you are.” 

 

“It was kind of tragic, I reflected, that we all spent our lives working but never really got good at our work, or even finished it. The purpose instead was for me to stand on the rock that he had thrown into the rushing river, bend and claw another rock from the bottom, and then cast it down a bit further and hope it would be a useful next step for some person with whom Providence might allow me to cross paths.” 

 

“It takes a long time to turn into what you’re supposed to be.” 

 

“…pretending that things are true is often more fun than knowing that they are false.” 

 

 

Although I'm reading through it slow as molasses, I freaking love McGuire's Every Heart a Doorway series. I know that she has written like, so many, books, so I'm not sure why I was drawn to this one as my next McGuire read, in particular. But whatever the reason, it's been on my TBR since it was published a few years ago. And when I was looking for a creepy-but-not-too-much October read, this is the one that called to me. 

 

Roger and Dodger are twins, one (Roger) skilled with languages and words and the other (Dodger) with a special gift for numbers and math. They're twins, and kinda mostly human but not quite, though they don't know that. Middlegame follows their lives as they grow up with separate (adopted) families, but with a connection so strong that they keep finding and re-finding each other. Which is both exactly what they were made to do, eventually, by the mysterious (and diabolical) Reed, who implanted them each with half of a "Doctrine" that, when jointly manifested, will allow them the power of, essentially gods. A power that Reed plans to harness and use himself, but Roger and Dodger, along with a helping hand from the equally mysterious (and dangerous) Erin, realize how deeply that must be avoided at all costs. 

 

My goodness this story was freaking riveting, despite the fact that, for a lot of it, the reader is just as in the dark about what is actually happening as Roger and Dodger (which could easily have been deeply frustrating and confusing - it takes a lot of reader trust to just go with it and believe that, eventually, McGuire will bring it all together and actually explain things). This is definitely a book where you need to be prepared to just go with the flow of the story and believe it will unfold as it needs to, even if there are major questions or points of confusion along the way. It's not a writing technique that works for every reader, so be ready for that, but McGuire executes it with precision and skill, so if you are ok with the style, know that it's worth it and well done here. That being said, there are a few things that never really do get fully explained. Or well, not in explicit detail. Specifically, the "Impossible City" that the Doctrine is meant to grant access to - I wasn't ever sure if it was a real place or a more of a conceptual one. Perhaps this is because Roger and Dodger didn't really know either and they're our MCs/narrators. And I could totally see that lack of surety being deeply annoying for some readers. Similarly, the "magic" that Roger and Dodger wield (which I'll talk more about in just a second) and the alchemy aspects (specific to Reed's work) were presented as more of a "just accept it as it is" reality, without explicit explanations of where it came from or how it works. And again, I feel like, with the general suspension of disbelief and paced unfolding of the rest of the plot/information, it was ok for me, I just stayed suspended, but I imagine not all readers would be happy with that experience.  

 

I want to take a moment to talk a bit more about Roger and Dodger as well, because despite the blurb, the book focuses very deeply on their connection with each other past the "magical" and often in a much more mundane/everyday sort of way. They are really phenomenally and deeply rendered. They develop together and separate from each other, but always in parallel, in really fascinating ways. And I found it really interesting that even with that depth of focus, I still felt like I held them at a distance, like a study/experiment, in a way that made me really invested in their story, but with a strange lack of attachment to them as characters. Like, whether or not they survived the story didn't feel that urgent to me, but how the story wrapped up in general did feel urgent. Relatedly, the idea of human manifestations of language and math (and chaos, if we consider Erin as well, which I definitely do), is so unique. And the specific ways those manifestations happened...I couldn't get enough of that honestly. The power in words and math, the way that Roger and Dodger can manipulate them but only to their full extent when combined is conceptually on point and really holds much deeper meaning than just a device in this magical sci-fi adventure story, when you really think about it.  

 

While this story was paced much slower than I had anticipated, and was more human than magical, I was (as I mentioned) riveted by the story-telling itself. It was complex and creative, and while it took awhile to get there, the culmination felt worth it to me. It was also a wonderful nod and homage to a more traditional "fairy tale," with a great dark and creepy vibe (though one that was totally stomachable for anyone, like myself, who is easily terrified). If you're willing to buy into this book and wait for the delayed gratification of things coming together, and you're looking for atmosphere over fast-pacing (though, don't get me wrong, with a very reasonable amount of adventure and drama), and you are feeling some abstract and academic magical content, then McGuire's literary alchemy in Middlegame will definitely hit the spot for you. 

 

“What better way to hide your teachings in plain view than to encode them in something that would be beloved of children the world over. … [She] rewrote the world by writing a new world into existence.” 

 

“Sometimes the easiest trick is hiding something in plain sight. That which can be found without looking can’t possibly be dangerous, after all.” 

 

“…that’s the trouble with grown-ups. The more effort they put into deciding what kids are going to do or think or be, the more things go wrong for them.” 

 

“There are ways to travel quickly, when one has power, and purpose, and the willingness to damage the world to achieve one’s goals.” 

 

“If they had to lose themselves to walk this road, would it really ever be able to lead them home?” 

 

“Lies are nothing. They’re the currency she uses to pay for the rest of her life.” 

 

“The past is never really past. It’s always lurking, ready to attack the present.” 

 

“You can’t skip to the end of the story just because you’re tired of being in the middle.” 

 

“…sometimes it’s not the words, it’s the way they’re used.” 

 

“…time is a concept invented by men who didn’t want everything to keep happening at once. Time is irrelevant.” 

 

“Here is a secret about powerful men, one they would prefer to go unspoken: their arrogance is one of the greatest forces in the universe. Even the most paranoid among them see what they want to see, believe what they want to believe, and this creates cracks through which the clever may insinuate themselves, changing the story around them.” 

 

“Magic doesn’t have to be flashy and huge. Sometimes, it’s the subtle things that are the most effective of all.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you will recall, when I read The Lost Queen a little over a year ago, I fell in love with it. From the setting to the characters to the vibe, and of course the story (as we all know Arthurian Legend has always been a favorite "retelling" topic of mine), it was just wonderful. And I am so very pleased to inform you all, without any ado, that this second installation in the trilogy is just as good. 

 

The Forgotten Kingdom basically picks up exactly where The Lost Queen leaves us. Langoureth waits, imprisoned in her room, to hear news of the battle between her husband and her brother (Lailoken). In the aftermath of the battle, learning who she has lost, Langoureth must carry on in the capital as she mourns and waits for further word of her lost daughter (Angharad) and exiled brother/Dragon warriors. With the increased threat from the expanding Angle kingdom, Langoureth and Lailoken and Angharad, along with the rest of the Britons, face impending war to defend their land. Despite the increasing conflict between the Old Ways and Christianity, and long-standing old internal rivalries, the Britons will have to band together to face that external threat. And they'll turn for aid to a new ally, a young warrior named Artur. 

 

As with the last book, although the major aspects of this story (the action, if you will) is primarily based on the unfolding effects of the actions of the men, as history is usually is communicated, the women in this trilogy take a more central stage, as far as story-tellers and the "behind the scenes" manipulations that fuel and decide the outcomes of these major events. The primary perspectives this story is told through are, as before, Langoureth (holding it together on the "home front" for family and country and tradition, ascending, at last, to Queen) and Lailoken (struggling with his battle losses/illness and sliding into a certain kind of madness). But there is an additional POV, that of Angharad, that becomes a major voice and force shaping events. And I loved it. As we watched Langoureth grow into herself in the first book, this book allows us to take a similar journey alongside Angharad. Separated from Lailoken and during the battle that opens the novel, we follow her growth over miles and years as she learns more about her power and trains into her role as a priestess. It's a wonderful chance for Pike to give us more of her amazing descriptions of England/Scotland - the land, the people/cultures, the beliefs - the way she writes it just really makes me feel like I am there. Plus, there is a definite romance hinted at that I cannot wait to see more of in the final book because honestly, the entire love situation so far has been deeply bittersweet (a product of the politics of the period and the way relationships were used for maneuvering, not for feelings). And it's been so well written. But it's still heartbreaking (like really, Langoureth and Maelgwn leave such a longing ache in my heart).  

 

From battles to politics to "magic" to the characters' growth and interactions, this fictional history is superbly atmospheric. I fell right back into the story and the land and I never wanted to leave (in fact, I definitely strung out reading it in order to be able to stay with it longer). Pike creates such full female characters, diving deep into their strength and resilience in the face of grief, lost love and lives, violence, separation, compromise and more. Yet, despite it all, they continue to take what choices and power they can, in whatever way(s) they can, to manipulate their reality to protect those they love, the beliefs that are important to them, and their land/homes. It's intense and inspiring and so completely rendered. Again I say, you can truly tell how much Pike respects and cares about these characters and their stories. I am so ready for the culmination of this new look at an old legend (and I am dying without an expected pub date for the final book to look forward to.) 

 

“Yes, women and warriors were more alike than one might expect. After all, the entirety of a woman;s life was made of blood. Our wombs seized and shed each month. Our babies were born of such agony and gore men could not comprehend. Both women and warriors were students of pain.” 

 

“But when you wish away your memory, you cannot choose what you keep.” 

 

“We may not always have the choice we would like, but we always have a choice.” 

 

“The yoke of destiny is heavy - but it does not ask more than we are able to give. Follow it or shrink from it. The choice is yours. But if you refuse it out of fear, you will never become the woman you are truly meant to be.” 

It seems that, with all the house projects we have going on (we just moved into a home in the historic district of our town, so it's over 100 years old and we are so excited to be there, but goodness it's a lot of time/effort right now), light and fast and escapist reads are where it's at for me - so get ready for a lot more romance and fantasy coming your way to close out this year. 

 

Olive is deep into her PhD when she ends up in a fake dating relationship with Dr. Adam Carlson, the most antagonistic and unapproachable professor in her lab. How, you ask? Well, in an effort to convince her best friend, Anh, that it's totally ok to date her ex-boyfriend, she makes up a story about dating someone new now anyways. But on the night she's supposed to be out on said date, and is actually hiding in her lab, Anh sees her and to keep her cover, Olive kisses the closest person to her in the hallway - Dr. Adam Carlson. And, when she explains the situation to him, he surprises her by agreeing to continue the farce, for "mutually beneficial" reasons. And thus ensues the many tropes of fake-dating and accidentally actually falling for each other. Well, accidentally for Olive. Perhaps not quite so accidental for the gruff and grumpy Adam... 

 

There was just so much to love about this book! Tropes become that way for a reason, they're continuously successful, and Hazelwood shows why here. And does it in style, because Olive's self-awareness of the potential pitfalls (from years of watching rom-coms), adds a fantastic layer of hilarity to the story. For example, when forced to share a hotel room, which Adam insists has two double beds, Olive says something like "no, there's always a single bed" and while he does not at all follow, this reader could not stop giggling. Adorable and such a playful addition. Related, writing-wise, the sarcastic, teasing banter that becomes the basis of Olive and Adam's interactions is one that I just love. The setting was wonderful as well. Definitely love seeing the women in STEM rep. And though my personal grad school experience was very different (humanities = much less technicality/lab time), there were definitely some universally recognizable parts. At least twice I also sent snippets to a good friend who has her PhD in a similar-ish field (similar as in they both had experiments and labs and science conferences to attend, not necessarily in direct topic of study) as Olive and it seems that Hazelwood has done quite a good job representing the general realities and feels of women in STEM PhD programs, from the bad to the terrible to the *intermittent* highlights. So on that note, beware that if those experiences are ones that you may not want to revisit/relive, be cautious in picking this book up. And on that note, one other content warning for verbal sexual and emotional (re: self-worth) abuse (one particularly graphic primary instance).     

 

I want to really recognize Olive's relationship with sex, and her internal consideration of being ace that, as the book develops, leads to her potentially being more on a demisexual spectrum. I honestly couldn't have loved it more, the way it was so casually added and considered within the plot, as well as the way that Olive chooses to communicate about it with Adam (and his reactions, or more accurately really, lack of reactions, was so comforting). Really everything about Adam was comforting. Large, gruff, silent-ish, and protective (and preferably darker haired) is definitely my romance-reader type. (A thought: does the cover version make anyone else think of Adam Driver??) His reaction in standing up for Olive once he realizes what happened (in the verbal abuse incident) had me in *feels.*  Plus I do wish more people handled those types of situations that way he did. But ok, back to the sex/sexuality. I just really have never read a character like Olive before and it was amazing to feel that...seen. Just...yes. Similarly, the one full sex scene (which was great, and held its own as the only one), was possibly one of the most realistic ones I've ever read (again, making personal experiences feel "seen" in a way that I don't think I ever realized I hadn't had in reading romance before) - making it realatable/accessible, but not taking away any of the heat. Impressive. 

 

Overall, this was just a super sweet love story. The grumpy/bubbly combo of Adam and Olive was exactly the right match. I appreciated the way their relationship grew, the feelings they both brought into it, and the amount of legitimate together time we got to see them have (the "break up" conflict trope was done a bit differently than it traditionally is and I loved it - that's always my least favorite part of the classic romance formula), was all deeply satisfying and soul-warming.  

 

I've had this book on my shelf for years. A not insignificant number of years. And I don't know why, but every time I was looking for a new book to read, I'd pass it over. Maybe because it's just so small and I didn't notice it? Maybe because, despite everything good I'd heard about it, I also knew a primary theme was math and I've never been so much of a math/numbers person. Regardless, I really have been meaning to read it and just haven't. So shout out here to the "bonus prompts" from this year's Reading Women Challenge. I have only loosely been trying to meet these 2021 prompts - I was feeling a more low-key reading expectations year - but it is nice to have it on the backburner if I'm ever looking not sure where to go next or looking to branch out into something totally different. "Read a book by Yōko Ogawa" was one of those bonus prompts and it turns out that was the push I needed to finally pick this one up. 

 

Somewhere in Japan, a housekeeper is hired from an agency to care for a elderly man. He was, still is, a brilliant math professor, but a traumatic injury years ago has left him with only 80 minutes of short-term memory. Although an unlikely pairing, the housekeeper and professor find a stasis that works for the both. And soon, the housekeeper's 10-year-old son too has created a unique bond with the professor. Although the professor must meet them anew every day, his long term memory is still full of the beauty of complex mathematical equations and theorems and philosophies, and through this medium (along with a shared love of baseball) the trio create a deeply meaningful relationship. 

 

Despite the short length of the book, and the objectivity of math in a general sense I found myself surprisingly emotionally invested in these characters. Even more so becasue the major bonding points, math and baseball, are two topics that I legitimately could not be less interested in. And yet this novel of connections was profoundly compelling - no plot to speak of, but truly touching character interaction. I am, on that note, glad this was a shorter read, as I don't think the repetitive nature of the interactions and story could have supported a longer piece, but as it was Ogawa paced the growth, as it were, really well and I found the story starting to wrap up right as I was ready for it to. 

 

Relatedly, the detail was sparse and quirky - just enough detail to keep the reader aware and invested but not a single extra or gratuitous word. (Interestingly, this style seems to be common among the Japanese authors I've read, as Convenience Store Woman and Before the Coffee Gets Cold were very similar.) It was a particularly apt style in this case, as it mirrored the austerity of the numbers the story revolved around, and yet allowed just enough space for the human aspects to sneak in. In short, Ogawa added a lovely, unpretentious artistic beauty and life philosophy to the math in these pages. Specifically, I loved the pairing of the narrator as a slow math learner and a professor who loves teaching and cannot remember the recent past. It's the perfect combo of being able to re-ask questions without embarrassment or annoyance from either party. And the way the interactions with the professor during his childhood affected the housekeeper's son's life trajectory was so sweet. In fact, I found tears springing into my eyes as I read the last few pages. An unexpected but not unwanted reaction to the goodness in these pages. 

 

There were a few points where mysteries of the professor's past were brought up and then never re-addressed or answered, which is realistic in context, but unsatisfying as a reader. And really I wasn't sure that sort of "left hanging" feeling was really necessary for the novel to be successful? Perhaps it was just a "me" thing though. 

 

What a profound illustration of the effect two (or three, in this case) lives in passing can have on each other. This slice of life was so small, in the grand scheme of things, and yet, it was all the more recognizable and affecting for all that. Poignant and sincerely human. 

 

“Eternal truths are ultimately invisible, and you won't find them in material things or natural phenomena, or even in human emotions. Mathematics, however, can illuminate them, can give them expression - in fact, nothing can prevent it from doing so.” 

 

“Circumstances change from day to day, and the people who are subject to them change as well.” 

 

The color blocking on this cover is so eye-catching. And this is mostly not at all related, but I have been loving that song Heat Wave by Glass Animals and every time I see this title, that song pops into my head. While it's "seven days in June" versus "late nights in the middle of June" it has merged in my head to be essentially the same thing. All of that to say, I really needed to read this book. Haha.

Eva Mercy is a paranormal erotica writer, with a robust fan club for her 14-book long bestselling series. She lives in Brooklyn with her daughter, Audre. Shane Hall is a mysterious (because he's basically a recluse) prize-winning, hard-hitting fiction author. When Shane shows up at a writer's event (surprise!) where Eva is speaking, the tension between them is palpable and obvious to everyone else in the room. And no wonder, it turns out, as the two shared an intense, emotional, week-long, falling-in-love fling while in high school. While they may have thought they buried their shared past/trauma, it turns out they've really been writing to/about each other over the past fifteen years. And their present-day chemistry is undeniable. Can they re-find what they lost, across all this time and space, during a second week in June?

My goodness, this was freaking spectacular! There's family drama, secrets/lies/buried pasts, lost love and second chance love, fantastic on-page chemistry (and while there aren't many of them, the few sex scenes are well done), wonderful pacing/tension of the unfolding love story, a relatable and wonderfully precocious daughter character, superb dialogue, authentically included social media/fandom aspects, and really well-handled serious topics (disability: migranes, self-medication, self-harm, addiction, gun violence). It's a lot. From the romance to the more sensitive content it's an intense story. In the good, unputdownable, way. I listened to the audiobook (which was narrated really nicely) and I groaned in frustration any time I had to press pause. I was completely absorbed in these characters and their stories. 

 

There are so many things that I want to point out about how well Williams wrote this novel. There are myriad different parts of this story whose details could easily have been left hanging, but I feel like she tied them all back in/together quite smoothly. Some of them got more fleshed out than others, naturally, but I don't feel like I was left with any unresolved storylines. I also was impressed with how comfortably Shane and Eva's relationship resolved. There was every chance for it to become/stay an unhealthy one, considering how it started and where they were in their lives when they re-met. And yet, I was pleased with how it ended - a great mix of reliance as a healthy part of a romantic relationship, but enough independent confidence to show a maturity growth from their first meeting to their adult getting back together. Basically, I thought their star-crossed, all-in lovers thing was written perfectly. Along with that, their individual growth was clear, if not finished (but then, who is ever finished with self-growth?). Relatedly, their mental health/disability medical issues (Shane's addiction and Eva's migraines) seemed to be treated with care/non-judgmentally, bringing attention especially to migraines as an invisible and under-represented (in literature) disability, at least as far as my frame of experience (I do not personally get migraines and have supported those living with addition) allows me to "approve." I loved Eva's daughter, Audre. Her entire vibe was perfect - smart and mature, and knows it, but with the self-centered POV of adolescence. I would be hella into reading a companion novel about her as she grows up (and achieves her celebrity-counseling dreams). 

The writing was easy and mature (a perfect combination for getting lost in it while reading). I am not always a fan of a dual-timeline story-telling method, as I do think they can get overdone and formulaic, but Williams skirts that potential pitfall and I ended up enjoying the presentation. There were a few random spots where we got a bit of story from another perspective - not Shane or Eva - and they were at times a bit jarring to adjust to, since they were mostly one-off perspectives. But they really did give a little something to the story development and character understanding that we might not have gotten elsewhere/otherwise, so I'm giving it the proverbial "pass." And I mentioned this earlier, but the pacing and tension progression was spot on. 

All in all, if I had to pick one word to describe this book it would be delicious. Absolutely delicious. 

 

I'm not traditionally into nature writing (The New Wilderness and Where the Crawdads Sing were good, but like, not something I would search out really). But this one has had a waitlist at the library literally since I started here over a year ago. That's the kind of thing that really catches one's attention, especially for a backlist title. After reading The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee a few weeks ago, it seemed like the right time, so I went ahead and added myself onto said waitlist. And I managed to time it so I got the physical and audiobook at the same time, which was ideal. I knew I was going to need a little push to keep going, since (as I mentioned) I'm not so much into nature writing - and I was right, that was a game-changer. And it was a bonus for this book as well because Kimmerer read it herself and her voice is the perfect soothing and meditative tone for the writing and content.   

 
 

To start, I have to just say that I've never enjoyed as much, or been as compelled by, writing about nature as I was throughout this book. It was meandering, focally, and felt a bit long at times, but it fit the overall vibe pretty well. Kimmerer's reverence for the majesty and ingenuity of the plants she writes about is incredibly captivating. And she weaves it so naturally with a reverence for indigenous culture, the connections of those traditions and mythologies with the land, and educating the reader on what we can and should take and apply from those teachings for the mutual benefit of humans and the earth. She does a fantastic job describing the way that, as the land was stolen from the original peoples, so too were their worldviews co-opted and overridden through colonization, and how that has so deeply contributed to the unhealthy consumerist lifestyle we're all currently living (as well as the way that has ruined our natural world). However, she balances that with interspersed stories showcasing the ways we could reintegrate with nature, to help both it and ourselves recover, both in theory and through real-life examples. I also want to highlight the phenomenal way Kimmerer recognizes both traditional and "modern" science perspectives and ways of learning. She definitely points out the shortcomings of what modern science allows, re: what counts as scientific knowledge and learning. But with her background in both, she straddles the line with finesse. 

 
 

I jotted down quite a few notes while reading this, most of which fall under the overarching thematic areas that I mentioned above, but honestly, I am missing the brainpower to combine them all into paragraph-like compilations right now. But since this was one of those books that I really felt while reading, I don't want to lose all these in-the-moment reactions that I had. I feel like I was really affected by a number of the concepts Kimmerer highlights (some right away and some over time, as there was definitely as aspect of repeatability to this reading experience) and perhaps getting to see them all listed out will help you get a more accurate feel for my "review" thoughts as well. So, without further ado, here they all are: 

 

-          In the very first chapter, Skywoman Falling, I was struck by the opposition stories of world-beginning mythology (Skywoman vs Eve) and the way those differing world views so clearly inform the relationship between the land and the people, whether it be home/sustenance/cooperation or a fight to use/pull from it however necessary for survival. Fascinating and affecting, to think how deeply, and for how long, these viewpoints have been ingrained. 

-          The deep connection of individual well being and the health of the whole that nature can teach us. The idea that what’s good for the land is good for the people (re: consumer culture). Whoa. 

-          The in-practice reality of gift versus commodity/market (common vs private) economy, what it looked like/could look like and the way reciprocity works in each, was so interesting. Not at all a concept I have ever considered, as ingrained in the commodity market as my life has always been (as all our lives are), but it makes so much sense and seems much [mentally, societally. 

-          I am a language person, so I loved the chapters where Kimmerer focused on or referenced language. Loved. Like, the cultural implications in language: not having a word for “please” because sharing was meant to happen and respect was implied in each request without the extra word. What?! And the way language/grammar boxes us in - inherent respect for persons vs being open for exploitation because humans are considered the only “beings,” while rocks/water/trees, etc. are "things." 

-          On that same note: what. a. perspective. shift. Nature as citizens/denizens of this world on equal footing as humans. There's no way for me to describe the concept as well or fully as Kimmerer, but it's one of the biggest internal shifts I've ever been compelled to make while reading. 

-          The continued demonstrations of how we are the products of our worldviews, even when we think we are being objective - just...damn. 

-          I was so into the creation mythologies and prophetic stories (Seventh Fire Prophecy) and traditional beliefs (men caring for fire and women for water, etc.) - reading about those was fascinating. One of my favorite parts. 

 

This book is a call to action for policy and the heart, in government and gratitude, to turn around and re-find our relationship to the earth with indigenous teachings as a guideline to create our own new immigrant-indigeneity to the land...before it’s too late. I experienced deep-seeded feelings of nostalgia for a life and tradition I know I’ve never experienced and I couldn;t help but wonder what that means about the truths of humanity in these pages? But anyways honestly, overall, reading about the reciprocity of love and gratitude and sustenance/support with the land that Kimmerer sets forth as possible [again] in these pages was spectacular. A stunning and profoundly interesting work of nonfiction. 

 

“The trees act not as individuals, but somehow as a collective. Exactly how they do this, we don’t yet know. But what we see is the power of unity. What happens to one happens to us all. We can starve together or feast together. All flourishing is mutual.” 

 

“In the settler mind, land was property, real estate, capital, or natural resources. But to our people, it was everything: identity, the connection to our ancestors, the home of our nonhuman kinfolk, our pharmacy, our library, the source of all that sustained us.” 

 

“Transformation is not accomplished by tentative wading at the edge.” 

 

“What I’m looking for, I suppose, is balance, and that is a moving target. Balance is not a passive resting place – it takes work, balancing the giving and the taking, the raking out and the putting in.” 

 

“Imagine raising children in a culture in which gratitude is the first priority. […] And, while expressing gratitude seems innocent enough, it is a revolutionary idea. In a consumer society, contentment is a radical proposition. Recognizing abundance rather than scarcity undermines an economy that thrives by creating unmet desires. Gratitude cultivates an ethic of fullness, but the economy needs emptiness. […] Gratitude doesn’t send you out shopping to find satisfaction; it comes as a git rather than a commodity, subverting the foundation of the whole economy. That’s good medicine for land and people alike.” 

 

“Reciprocity is an investment in abundance for both the eater and the eaten.” 

 

“…how do we consume in a way that does justice to the lives that we take?” 

 

“By honoring the knowledge in the land, and caring for its keepers, we start to become indigenous to place.” 

 

“The parallels between the adaptations evolved by the plants and the needs of the people are indeed striking.” 

 

“This is our work, to discover what we can give. Isn’t this the purpose of education, to learn the nature of your own gifts and how to use them for good in the world?” 

 

“Restoring land for production of natural resources is not the same as renewal of land as cultural identity.” 

“Restoration is imperative for healing the earth, but reciprocity is imperative for long-lasting, successful restoration.” 

 

“I maintain that the destructive lens of the people made of wood is not science itself, but the lens of the scientific world-view, the illusion of dominance and control, the separation of knowledge from responsibility.” 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm getting marginally better at remembering where I get book recommendations from (go me!), so here I'd like to just shout out @trans_cending_literature for being the first person to put this book on my radar/TBR. I added a request for the library where I work to purchase it, but it wasn't happening fast enough for me because it just looked so good and I wanted to read it sooner... So I actually ended up getting it from another library system (yes - I do have cards to multiple library systems). 

 

Wyatt Croft, a witch, was once engaged to the fae heir of the kingdom of Asalin, Emyr North. Was. Until the night he lost control of his magic, with devastating consequences, and fled to the human world. There, he was taken in by a family that made him one of their own. Years later, Emyr shows up at his home, cold and distant and with no intention of letting their engagement go (in fact, with every intention of pulling Wyatt back to Asalin whether he wants to go or not). So, Wyatt and Briar (his best and closest friend) travel together to Asalin to sort things out. Despite Wyatt's insistence that he wants no part of ruling or being in Asalin again, the conflict between the ruling class (fae) and his own people (witches) is getting ever worse, his feelings for Emyr are not quite as simplistically "over it" as he'd like them to be, and Wyatt might have to step up a little (and follow his heart a bit). Plus, Emyr might need his particular style of assistance, because a full on "burn it down and rebuild" revolution might be the only chance Asalin has at real reform. 

 

This novel had some hardcore, dramatic metal vibes to it (added to by the opening and closing music on the audiobook - I listened as well) and I was here for all of that. Wyatt's defensive sarcasm, recognizable mix of confidence and self-consciousness, and anti-establishment snark had the exact feral vibe that Edgmon claims for themself in their author bio. And really, if I'm being honest, I felt a lot of what I suspect are the author's opinions, frustrations/anger, insecurities, and support systems come through in the writing. I definitely could be wrong, but despite the magic and "other-world" ness of the plot and setting, this book felt, overall, incredibly personal. And I liked that for it - there was a lot of emotion(s) throughout and being able to feel the reality of it behind the fantasy forged a much stronger connection between reader and text. I do have to say, in line with that vibe, a few times the metaphors leaned a bit towards the "hit you over the head" obvious, but they were such deeply important messages (regarding arbitrary and fear-based gender and social stratification, in particular) that I'm leaving grace for the fact that some people do actually need to be hit over the head with them. And it was able to flow fairly well into the general world-building and plot development, which was super solid, if not spectacular (and the parallel fae and human worlds created nice opportunities for demonstrating/showcasing these messages as well). Plus, there were some really cool aspects, like magic-technology combinations (sending spells by app/text) that were totally unique! 

 

The characters were vibrant and beautifully diverse, with a really nice amount of depth and development considering that this was the first in what is clearly meant to be a series and one that felt like a fast/short read (like, it was super compelling and fun to read). In particular, I just really want to highlight the platonic/friendship love between Briar and Wyatt. It was portrayed and described in a way that I rarely see for non-romantic relationships, yet I think readers will recognize this type of love from their own lives and I was thrilled to see it get page time and recognition because it's so important! Very touching. Also, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Wyatt and Emyr as well - their relationships is complex for many external reasons, which I'm sure many readers will also recognize, and watching them try to work through that to be able to enjoy being together in the way they clearly do was challenging but satisfying to see as well. I am not sure exactly when it happened, because with the plot pacing (and the spot on narration) I was speeding right through this on. But by the time I turned the last page, I realized these characters had burrowed all up into my heart and I'm so excited for the next installation of their relationships and revolutions!      

 

Well I just completely enjoyed my time reading this. I was really feeling the irreverent voice and rage against the machine/social commentary tone. I love a found family. And I couldn't get over how beautifully and unapologetically trans this entire book was. It was refreshing (and shouldn't be as much as it was) that while there were many social/stratification issues, gender/sexually was not one. Plus, as you know, I am a sucker for magic and fae beings, so really...this one checked all my boxes and lived up to expectations. 

 

“But those with power never really needed an explanation for oppressing people other than they can.” 

 

“You haven’t changed as much as you think you have. […] You have always been you. You just found the language to talk about it.” 

 

“It’s just…the worst ones are usually the loudest. […] And when you’re backed by the institutional power, it’s easy to be as loud as you want.” 

 

“Just because something happens in secret doesn’t mean it’s evil. […] Darkness means safety. It means protection.” 

 

“Your value as a person is not based on how much you can do for other people. You are valuable, Wyatt. You. All on your own. For exactly who you are.” 

 

“There is a power in being seen and wanted as you are...” 

 

 

If you've been with this blog for a little while, you'll know I absolutely loved Hoang's first few novels (The Kiss Quotient and The Bride Test), so naturally I was top of the waitlist at the library for her newest romance. Like, literally the top - I was the first person to get it. Anyways, I know there was a bit of a publication date delay, which Hoang talks a bit about in her Afterward, but honestly, it was worth the wait. I would have waited twice as long for it. Because once again, Hoang works her literary magic in these pages and I could not put this one down. 

 

Anna Sun just recently went viral for a violin solo she played and is really struggling to keep up with the expectations the new fame has brought (or, at least, her internalized interpretation of the expectations). Quan Diep (we finally get Quan's story!), usually quite the ladies man, is dealing with the aftermath of a surgery as a result of a cancer diagnosis, one that has deeply affected his view of his own worth in a relationship and, just in general, re: traditional manhood. When Anna's boyfriend decides he wants to try an open relationship, she and Quan "meet" on a dating app - Anna to get out there and Quan to get back out there. They have a bit of a non-traditional dating start, but their match seems to be pretty perfect. Except life gets in the way when Anna has to take on burdens within her family that she is completely unsuited for after tragedy strikes. The confluence of expectations, "tough love" instead of support from family and a new clinical diagnosis, threaten to overwhelm her, even with Quan's unwavering support. So, Anna will have to stand up for herself, and Quan, or risk losing both him and herself. 

 

All of Hoang's novels had been spectacular, and you can feel the pieces of herself and her family that she has sprinkled into them, but this one took it to another level. It was incredibly emotional and there was a deep sense of the personal in the writing. Like I said, Hoang addresses that aspect a bit in the Afterward, but as a reader, you can tell even before getting to that how much was poured into this from Hoang's heart and experiences. Anna's work with a therapist to overcome her artistic block with the violin after her "success" uncovers a deeper causal diagnosis that, for all that it comes so late in life, is eye-opening and cathartic for Anna. Although that doesn't make it easier, necessarily, to live with - and there is of course the fight to make her family accept and understand - it allows Anna herself a lens through which to see and understand her life and reality within a much needed explanatory context. And in this perspective, Quan's unconditional support, and ceding to Anna the expertise of her own self/life, is something she's never experienced before and I could not, as a reader, have loved it more. It's one of the most heart-warming and supportive relationships I have ever read - like wrapping oneself up in a cozy fictional blanket (especially because of Quan's tattooed, motorcycle-riding, tough guy look, which I have a particular soft spot for, especially when paired with a "big softie" inside). 

 

The other major emotional blow throughout this novis is Anna's internal experience. The caregiving role she is thrust into unexpectedly puts her in such a  horrific mental health space. Her silent and claustrophobic pain is heart rending to read. It is written well - so well, in fact, that if you have ever struggled as a caregiver, with family expectations, with artistic blocks, with self-discovery/therapy or with being on the edge of a mental health break with no one to talk to about it....be careful with this novel and make sure you are in an ok headspace to read it before picking it up. It's heavy. But also, it makes the story feel that much more real. All romances have their conflicts; it's a staple of the genre, of course. But there was something about the conflict here, the external forces more so than the internal ones or based on any choices the characters themselves have made, was presented in a very affecting confluence. And that is where you really feel Hoang's personal experiences shine through in the writing (which I know I've already mentioned, but it bears repeating because it's done so well). In fact, it was f*cking phenomenal. 

 

There were many emotions and hurt in these pages, but there was also deep, absolute belief and support within a relationship. It was a wholesome and tender and vulnerable romance (with a couple of Hoang's trademark steamy scenes, of course!). Also, what an important conversion about the expectations of family and caregiving that is never talked about in this way. And what bravery for the personal side of it. This was perhaps a more "serious" romance than Hoang's first two, but it is all the more impactful for that, and it was just as fantastic to read. I continue to be deeply impressed by and pulled into Hoang's words, characters, stories. 

 

 “For that’s the only place where true perfection exists - the blank page. Nothing I actually do can compete with the boundless potential of what I could do.” 

 

“Tough love is brutally honest and hurts you to help you. Tough love cuts you when you're already bruised and berates you when you don't heal faster.” 

 

“No one should need a diagnosis in order to be compassionate to themself. But I did. Tough love doesn't allow room for weakness, and tough love is all I've ever known. Maybe for now, just this once, I can experiment with a different kind of love. Something kinder.” 

 

“The thing with feelings is they pass. Hearts aren't designed to feel anything too intensely for too long, be it joy, sorrow, or anger. Everything passes in time. All colors fade.” 

 

“All I can do is go forward, and to do that, I must stop chasing perfection. It doesn't exist. [...] Instead, I must focus on giving what I have, not what people want, because that is all I can give.”