Funny story about how this one found its way onto my shelves. One of our major vices (if you will), nutritionally, is pop tarts. We eat a lot of them. If you are curious, my partner is a “brown sugar cinnamon” person. And I alternate between “chocolate chip cookie dough” and “unfrosted strawberry” (I know, I know – it’s gross). Anyways, some time in the past year or two they ran a promotion that each box of pop tarts bought and logged through Kellogg’s website got you a choice of a free book. It was a limited selection, but I found a couple great ones (including purchasing my own copy of I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter, which is a phenomenal read). And I had heard a few good things about Darius the Great, so I chose that one as well. It sat unread for a while, as books often do around here, but I just got to it and goodness I’m glad I did. Between Mexican Daughter and this one, talk about some powerful YA lit. 

 

Darius lives in Portland, is in high school (and is better with Star Trek and LOTR than he is with social life), works in a tea shop (he's obsessed with tea), and is clinically depressed (inherited from his father). When he travels with his family, for the first time ever, to Iran to visit family there because his grandfather's health is failing. When he arrives...things are so different. He doesn't speak Farsi nearly as well as his younger sister, he is struggling to connect with family he's only ever met through a computer screen, and he is really feeling the full, distancing, impact of being a "fractional Persian." But he meets a family neighbor, Sohrab, who is around his age and things start to feel different. Sohrab shows him around, invites him to play soccer, gets him an Iranian National Football Team jersey, makes everyone speak English so Darius doesn't feel left out and just generally turns out to be Darius's first really close friend. As the trip goes by, Darius also starts to forge some deeper connections with his family (maybe, even, his dad?), with his country of ancestry in general, and faces some tough truths of growing up along the way. 

 

Like I said, this was a really powerful story. And yet Khorram still manages to present it in the most wonderfully authentic adolescent voice. Darius' is such a unique story-telling voice, with lots of science and fandom metaphors/descriptions and that classic sarcastic teen vibe. It's the perfect example of addressing the real, and truly serious life events that young adults must deal with, while simultaneously keeping it true to their appropriate emotional and development stage. Basically, what I'm saying is that the writing is awesome (and, as I also listened to the audiobook - the narration was fantastic as well). 

 

Topically, the book had a great balance of lighter stuff and heavier stuff. There's making friends and (healthy) sibling relationships and personal hobbies (tea and Star Trek and soccer), overall humor, traveling and sightseeing and learning about one's heritage/culture, and more. But there were also quite a few moments that were deeply emotional. As a primary point, the familial effects of depression were so well explored. Between what the reader can only assume (and it is later confirmed) is his father's guilt for "passing on" depression to Darius and the complication of depression for Darius at an age that is already emotionally fraught, it's really no wonder that the relationship between Darius and his father is strained. It also made their moment of openness together with each other at the end that much more impactful (I for sure shed some tears). The other major theme was the cultural split for Darius. Since he was born in the US (and had never been to Iran before), plus he didn't learn/use Farsi growing up like his sister, but he has a "weird" name and loves tea, he really felt a certain way about his "fractional" Persian status. And that was only exacerbated by being in Iran, at least to start. But then after some time there, and some bonding with Sohrab, he was able to pull out the parts of himself that connected with his Persian heritage even more, to find his "True Persian" aspects. It was touching and, overall, a well done representation of straddling two cultures and feeling separated from each, as a result. I also want to note, because it may not have been a major point, but it was something that I took away, that Khorram does a nice job exemplifying how societally constructed/implemented certain striations are (cultural and racial and religious). We all know the ones in our own countries because we are socialized into them (like Darius being called a terrorist by classmates). But then in Iran, he doesn't realize/have a reference for how people discriminate against Sohrab based on religious reasons, because it's foreign to him...and therefore not obvious. And it's just a great way to show just how much these differences don't actually mean anything - they're all superficial and shouldn't have any bearing on the way people treat or interact with each other. Anyways, it wasn't as central a point, but it was striking for me. 

 

This was a spectacular novel, objectively, not just in a YA sense. But there is a great YA feel to it as well. I laughed at it, I got emotional with it, and I appreciated the tough and sometimes less talked about topics Khorram addresses (especially regarding mental health). Overall, a really moving and heartfelt celebration of family, identity, and Iranian/Persian culture, history and tradition in all its forms. 

 

Magic, King Arthur and a UNC-Chapel Hill setting? I’m not entirely sure that there’s a book more in line with my life and interests than that. Plus, every single review I’ve read has been glowing. So really there was never a chance I didn’t read this one. Expectations were high. And wow – it stood up. 

 

Bree Matthews leaves her home in small-town NC to start an Early College program at UNC-Chapel Hill just months after her mother’s death. Bree and her best friend, Alice, head to the program together, but their extracurriculars split pretty early on when Bree sees a magical demon creature attack right after arrival. When the attempt to erase her memory of the event fails, Bree is pulled into a secret society of “Legendborn,” descendants of Arthur and the original Knights of the Round Table who, for centuries, have secretly protected the world from the Shadowborn demons. But even having learned all those secrets, things are still not all as they appear. Bree’s mentor Nick (who she may or may not be falling for) is more to the Order of the Round Table than he seems, the society’s mage, Sel, seems to have something against her, and the historical bloodlines are not enthused to have her Onceborn (and Black) presence in their ranks. But Bree stays, because she is sure that the Order has something to do with her mother’s untimely death. And then there’s the fact that she has so many abilities that she didn’t know about and can’t explain. That, along with the discovery of the Order, working through grief for her mother, keeping up with school, and the other magic that runs in her family but her mother never told her about, Bree has quite a bit of self and ancestral discovery in front of her. Oh, and of course the decision of whether or not to stay involved with the Order and help them fight in the clearly impending “end of the world” war with the Shadowborn.     

 

I jut reread that blurb I wrote and despite how long it is, I still feel like I did a terrible job giving a picture of just how much happens in this book. It is pretty nonstop, pacing-wise, right from the beginning. We meet Sel and the Shadowborn right away and from there, it’s reveal after reveal as Bree learns more about the Legendborn, the Order, their “work,” who Nick really is, and starts to break through Sel’s exterior. There there’s the real life stuff, with school and her friend Alice and staying in contact with her father and seeing a therapist to help her start to work through the loss of her mother. Which opens up a whole new line of reveals, as Bree learns she inherited an unexpected magical gift from her mother (that runs in the line of females in her family), and what that means for her involvement with the Order, as well as finding help in reaching out to her ancestors to learn more about her abilities. Like seriously, for weeks on end it feels like Bree never has a chance to take a breath or have a moment to process. And as a reader that was thrilling. However, as far as a (small) critique of the book, it did feel like the timing of the plot development was perhaps a bit fast to be realistic. And of course I mean that in regards to character and relationship development, because I know that magic (despite all my personal hopes) is not realistic. Sort of along these lines, this book began as a really well blended mix of fantasy and real life, but I did feel like by the end, the balance had tipped a bit extra towards fantasy and we lost touch a little bit with the grounded “real” setting. 

 

Anyways, let me talk more about the things I loved. Get ready for an all-over-the-place list here. First, OMG the nostalgia! Even though some places were more euphemistic or changed, I still loved recognized the real life inspirations/locations – Gimghoul castle, the secret societies existence/rumors, the Arboretum, the Unsung Founders Memorial,  the (mid-campus!) cemetery, Ye Olde Waffle Shoppe, and, though it isn’t a UNC landmark, the State Fair mention – I just loved “spotting” all the places I have known and lived by for years. Super fun! Also, I’m a hella King Arthur mythology fangirl, so I was all in for that entire aspect. It was such a unique take on the popular stories and I loved what Deonn did with it all to bring it into the present day! Bree herself was a great teen character. I loved her headstrong surety and strength and also appreciated the headstrong unwillingness to listen and consider before making decisions – so accurate for the age. I was glad to see the start of the turn with Sel’s character. Call me basic and predictable, but I love a “dark” and tattooed and mysterious male MC (Nick was great too, if I’m honest, just not my type) and so I was really hoping we’d get some of that “secret good side” eventually. I was also into how much of Bree’s relationships with both Nick and Sel is up in the air at the end – there was so much going on that it seemed like the right way to end it and I cannot wait to see how the three of them play out moving forwards. In fact, I really want to call out that with all the fast pacing, it would have been easy to leave it there and let the characters play second fiddle. And most of the side ones did, I thought. But I think Nick and Sel and, especially Bree (even though it happened a little fast), did have some great development. Specifically, Bree’s relationship with her mother and her mother’s death, moving through the ways she ignored the grief and then projected it and then finally, as she began to get closure, moved into actually dealing with it, was intense and though but also well handled. Overall, a really solid mix of character and plot movement and growth throughout. 

 

The last thing I want to point out, that I loved, and appreciated so much it deserves its own paragraph, was the way Deonn takes on the part of UNC (and the South’s) history of slavery and racism that it is still embroiled in forgetting/sweeping under the rug and pretending doesn’t exist anymore despite all evidence to the contrary. This was a stunning tribute to the strength and resilience and survival of Black women, in the face of so much direct and intergenerational violence and trauma and loss and (looking at the many ways the Order legacy families reacted to Bree and how white people still act IRL), is alive and well. Using Bree’s mother and ancestors as a single example representing so much more, the mother-daughter connection and grief is so strong, the deep loss of ancestral connection and knowledge and closure that was (is) stolen from so many, it difficult to reckon with, but must be done. On this note, and in an effort to avoid spoilers, I’ll keep it vague: the forced legacy storyline “twist” was…wow. Intense and chilling and an absolute “inextricable, horrible truth” that throws light onto a dark and buried trauma reality (one that really must be more a widespread reality than anyone – anyone white – realizes or is willing to consider). Phew.   

 

Well, Deonn delivered everything I was looking forward to and promised by other reviewers, plus some. This opening novel was chock full of magic and secrets and twists, new relationships and great supportive friendships, spectacular “world”-building, adversaries both societal and magical, the tough moments of discovery and closure, and a beautiful and difficult recognition of the resilience of Black women in the Southern US throughout the centuries. Gorgeously crafted and executed. I cannot wait to see where this story goes in book two and I highly recommend it.  

 

“To be able to trace one’s family back that far is something I have never fathomed. My family only knows back to the generation after Emancipation. Suddenly, it’s hard to stand here and take in the magnificence of the Wall and not feel an undeniable since of ignorance and inadequacy. Then, a rush of frustration because someone probably wanted to record it all, but who could have written down my family’s history as far back as this? Who would have been able to, been taught to, been allowed to? Where is our Wall? A Wal that doesn’t make me feel lost, but found. A Wall that towers over anyone who lays eyes on it. Instead of awe, I feel…cheated.” 

 

“Everything has two histories. Especially in the South.” 

 

“Sometimes, you say the awful thing quickly and without taking a breath because lingering is too painful.” 

 

“Don’t make your life about the loss. Make it about the love.” 

 

 

 

 

Well, this is a prime example of the "the cover got me." It was on the new nonfiction display at the library and the colors and cereal bowl situation all conspired to make me pick it up and flip through it. Seeing the colorful illustrations throughout, and the topic (I am not sure I've read anything by, or even about, someone diagnosed with borderline personality disorder), I impulse checked it out. 
 
 

The author, Courtney Cook, has dealt with various mental health diagnoses for the majority of her life and, at age 23, was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. In this graphic-ish memoir, Cook describes the way the symptoms of BPD have affected her throughout her life, even though the official diagnosis came later. From falling in love fast and hard and then driving people away out of fear that they'll leave her, hating and loving herself in equal measure, the hospitalizations and medications and therapy that she's been through, and the moments of comfort in everyday items and food and the sometimes peace in other's arms, Cook covers quite a few of the contradictions and challenges and realities of living with BPD. 

 

Let me start with a very clear and strong content warning for the majority of the topics in this memoir, including but not limited to parental chronic illness, suicidal ideation/attempts, self-harm, hospitalization and residential treatment (including mentions of of the mental illnesses/assault/sexual abuse from other residents), animal death and drug use. I am sure I"m missing something, because Cook held nothing back and used no euphemisms, but I think the point is made and I did my best to list the ones mentioned the most often or with the most detail. So, before picking up this book, please be aware - I do not necessarily have any trigger points connected to these topics and I still moved through reading this slowly, with lots of breaks and reading other books interspersed, because the content was so intense. 

 

To give a bit of my personal reaction to this memoir, as one does in a review, I want to start with the things that I really liked. First, the artwork. The cover was a great indication of what to expect, as far as color and form, and I was thoroughly into it. It is not necessarily a preferred style for me in general, I wouldn't say, but the overall art/writing delivery style created a vibe that felt right, as far as the whole picture of herself Cook was attempting to portray. In other words, the visuals and format matched the content super well. As far as the content itself, I have to say that I deeply respect and admire Cook for how open she was about her experiences with BPD. As she mentions, this is a mental illness that has long been vilified in the media, especially for women,  and I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to share such intimate and personal stories/details on such a public scale, about something so widely misunderstood. She does not shy away from ugly truths, in general about BPD and about herself, and there is so much bravery in that. I was very interested in reading more about BPD, the background info she gives about it factually and specific to her own experiences (as far as medication and therapy and the way it manifests for her and changes/affects her relationships), the public assumptions made about it and people who have it (the differences between men and women, in that regard), and more. It was particularly informative to read about the way she experienced myriad BPD symptoms while growing up, and again how they manifested, but couldn't be diagnosed until so much later because it was seen as a phase/something she'd grow out of, and the diagnosis cannot be made under a certain age anyways. 

 

All that being said, there was something about this memoir that didn't feel quite right. I have postponed writing this review for over a week, in the hopes that whatever it is would come to me. But...it hasn't. Which makes me think that it's at least in part due to me, personally, as a reader, and nothing to do with the memoir itself. But I want to tell you a couple things that I considered, or that seemed a little cringey to me. Overall, I felt like the memoir lacked some perspective. And there is every chance that it's down to the way BPD works that it came across that way. (And also, I totally get that this is a personal memoir, telling a singular and very individual POV, so there's that too.) Cook does a thorough and objective job recognizing her objective privilege, and doing her level best to explain that while she "knows" there's nothing in her life that should "make her" feel the way she does, she can't fight the brain chemistry that's causing it. That is an important and understandable point, and its inclusion is necessary. But it also felt like, at times, Cook over-dropped privilege bombs (international trips and private schooling and others) in such quick passing that they felt more for shock value than to add anything to the narrative of her illness or greater life experience. Also, she mentions differences in BPD perception for women versus men, but nothing in regards to racial or socioeconomic status, so that felt incomplete. All that being said, I also feel a bit wrong criticizing in this way because, as I said, this is a personal and honest mental health portrayal (something that sorely needs larger, legitimate media representation), and at no point does she profess to speak for anyone other than herself. So, again, maybe I'm the problem. But, I want to be transparent about my reactions. 

 

Overall, this was a new and eye-opening perspective for me to read. And coming pretty close on the heels of having read The Collected Schizophrenias and Haben, I am noticing the strong call to name things what they are, because euphemisms only benefit ableism and, really, how does one separate themselves from something that is such an inextricable part of their lives (the "you are not your illness perspective)? The message is clear across mental illness and physical disability and has been deeply noted. But back to this book in particular, I am glad I picked it up. As I said, I did learn from it and really enjoyed the artistic aspects. Though I had my personal vibe issues that I'm continuing to work through, if this sounds like something you'd want to read, I encourage you to do so and see what you think for yourself. 

 

“What do you do when you’re given everything and still feel empty?” 

 

“People often say ‘You’re not your illness’ or ‘Your illness doesn’t define you’ when speaking about mental afflictions, but to say that I’m not borderline as much as I am Courtney is to misspeak. Borderline is a personality disorder that shapes my personality. All my actions and thoughts and emotions are filtered through my borderline brain. Even if I don’t tell anyone about my diagnosis, by simply existing I am outing myself as someone with borderline personality disorder. It’s more than a haunting – it’s a full-on possession.” 

 

“It seems that the root of my obsession is the idea that if I did, or had, or became, this one thing or person, I would feel content, satisfied, whole. The problem with this line of thinking is that no matter what I acquire, I’m still the one who acquired it. No matter whom I emulate, I am still, ultimately, me.” 

 

I first heard of this one, saw it come across my awareness, from @allisonreadsdc. And as I do with all romances that have gotten great reviews from readers I trust, I bookmarked it for the next time I was in the romance mood. Well, I recently finished The Poppy War, which is amazing but incredibly intense, and a few other deeper reads, and I started craving that quick, “can’t put it down,” “hot and bothered” reading escape vibe. And it was time. 

 

Nesto has just made the major life decision to take his food truck NYC to upstate NY. His mother and sister are up there and they were sure it was the perfect spot to chase his dream of making a living wholly through the food industry. Leaving his three best friends behind in the city was a tough call, but Nesto is ready to take this chance (though, of course, anxious and planning to spend all his energy over the next six months developing the business). Jude works at the local library, which is conveniently adjacent to the location of the new Afro-Caribbean food truck, OuNYe. Jude’s sole life focus is on his work, and his pet project to create a mobile library truck, despite the meddling negativity of the library’s fundraising lead. When a flirty interaction with Nesto during his first food truck visit turns into spending more time together, both realize that this connection they have is more than they bargained for. Nesto will have to find some work-life balance and Jude will have to open up about his family and get over some trust issues before they can make their relationship really work. 

 

This was exactly what I was looking for. I finished it in under 24 hours and was sucked in from the very beginning. Herrera has a gift for human interaction, that genuine touch of sarcasm and support, love both tough and deep, that comes with the best relationships.  And while she, of course, nails this in regards to the development of Jude and Nesto (who, for the record have a very believably fast insta-love situation that I was deeply into – the easy way they fell into step with and roles for each other felt so right), but with many other relationships as well. Nesto and his three best friends, Nesto and his mother, Jude and his best friend/coworker Carmen – they were all spectacular, meddling and unconditional in all the ways the closest relationships are.  And this goes not just in the way the act and are around each other, but came through with Herrera’s dialogue as well. She writes such realistic verbal back and forth and I love that in a book. I was also very into the Spanish/Spanglish that was woven throughout – it was *chef’s kiss.* It all just flowed and felt so natural. 

 

Other great things (there were so many!) included both Nesto and Jude’s jobs. The Afro-Caribbean burritos that OuNYe served (along with the sides and desserts) basically all made my mouth water. And Jude’s passion for rural reading outreach really spoke to this rural-ish library employee’s heart. Both were written well, in general, and within the context of the way Nesto and Jude both supported each other (and let each other down) in relation to them. On a more serious note, Herrera touches on a few tough topics, including myriad racist and anti-immigrant actions/words, homophobia and being disowned by family after coming out, and terminal illness. These were handled with care, presented realistically but with nuance and understanding where applicable, and they added great depth to the characters and story without overly taking over or taking away from main attraction: the romance. 

 

And let’s talk about that. PHEW, this was STEAMY. The sexual tension and sex scenes were written so well and definitely got me tingly and breathing a little heavy. So, just a heads up there, whether you’re looking for that or looking to avoid it. And also as a warning to be careful reading it in public. Haha. That physical chemistry was a great aspect of the clear connection/fit of Nesto and Jude. But it functioned smoothly in conjunction with the other ways they developed, opening up to each other about personal thing, working through tough family and business moments together, and finding the balance of work and life/love that would make their relationship work. Plus, as a personal note, I loved Nesto’s protectiveness of Jude. I know that that’s individual, and maybe it’s not for everyone, but I love the “bristling, growling, intimidating” protective thing in a partner, within safe boundaries (of course). So that worked for me too. 

 

Overall, this was just the right book at just the right time for me. But I think even if I wasn’t fully in the mood-reader space for a romance, I still would have really enjoyed this one. Herrera’s writing is great and I got totally caught up in Nesto and Jude’s story. I am most definitely looking forward to picking up the next book in this series (what a perfect set-up there, Nesto and his three besties will all get their own stories), because having met them here, I am 100% planning to read all their individual happy endings. 

 

“It was like watching life happen. I wanted to get close, feel what it was like to have all that joy and passion directed at me. Be the reason for it.”; 

 

“It struck me how sad it was that this one thing about me could be more important that everything else.” 

 

 

Here's a book that I really have no idea how it got onto my radar, but I've had it on my TBR backburner list for a little while now. And within a week, I both saw the first review of it on #bookstagram that I've ever seen (thanks @andreabeatrizarango) and walked past it on a display at the library (it was "hot and cold memoirs: memoirs that have red or blue covers"...a strange display, but there you have it). And I figured that was a sign that it was time. Bonus: the e-audiobook was also available so I could read and listen at the same time. It was a great combo, because Girma reads it herself, but the physical book had photos that I was glad I was able to see! 

 

In this memoir, Haben Girma shares her story (so far) as a deafblind woman navigating life and the world. Starting with stories from her childhood in school in California to her present day as a disability rights lawyer and activist, and sprinkled in between with some really fascinating stories of her parents lives (her father born and raised in Ethiopia and her mother in Eritrea, including her mother's escape to Sudan as a refugee from the Eritrean War of Independence), visits to her family in Eritrea, and the differences in her own experiences being deafblind in the US versus her older brother's experiences being deafblind in Eritrea. 

 

I don't know what I was expecting, honestly, but this book was really a joy to read. Of course, there were many challenges as a result of Girma's disability, some of which were infuriatingly preventable/addressable if someone had cared to, and I will get to that, but overall, there was just such an upbeat and uplifting sort of feel to Girma's writing. She focused so much on her life experiences, from learning to dance to climbing glaciers to building schools in Mali to family events (and trying to fight bulls!) in Eritrea to meeting and speaking with President Obama to international speeches to, of course, her academic achievements and successes as the first deafblind student to attend and graduate from Harvard Law School. While it would have been ideal if she didn't have to fight so hard to have access to these experiences, it was still just wonderful to be able to read about her incredible inner push, the "going after your goals" mindset, the facing down your own (and others) fears, and just the general vibe of proactivity and perserverance that she carries with her. Like, I personally have almost none of the physical or (arbitrary) social limitations that Girma lives with, and yet the idea of traveling the world and giving speeches in front of large groups and meeting the President and going to Harvard Law School (or any law school, really), is still super intimidating and seems out of reach. I'm so incredibly impressed with her drive and loved reading about her own delight in everything she was able to experience! 

 

 As far as some of the more disability rights and dsicrimination aspects of the book were concerned, Girma speaks with clarity and candidness about the realities of being deafblind in a sighted and hearing world. Some of the things she experienced as an elementary school child were really frustrating to read. Things that I feel like should absolutely have been a school/teacher's responsibility to take the lead, fell on Girma's shoulders. And I am sure that the one or two examples she gave were but a fraction of what she actually dealt with. What a truly unfair and unreasonable situation(s) to put a child in - no matter how many more accomodations she got in the US than she would have gotten in Eritrea, this country could, should, still be better. And it continued into college, at which point she had more of her own knowledge and strength to fall back on, but still shouldn't have needed to the extent she did (like seriously, having to threaten a lawsuit becasue the dining hall/cafeteria couldn't figure out complying with basic ADA regulations is ridiculous). Plus, what an example (and just one example) of the way disabled people are taken advantage of, even with laws that say otherwise, becasue companies/institutions think it'll be easier not to comply and, I guess, just assume that disabled people will let it go or not have the resources to fight back? And then even at Harvard, where there were many accommodations made for accessibility, it still seemed as though the fact that it was all afterthought made it all less successful than it might have been. On this note, Girma makes a really great note in the "After" section, where she includes suggestions for ways that places and communities and businesses can be more disability-accessible and essentially her point is that it's easier (and generally cheaper) to start there, building them in from the beginning, than to add them in as an afterthought. On the whole, from text-to-speech software to tactile cues to her braille-reader computer/keyboard to her seeing-eye dog (Maxine!), I was truly fascinated reading about the myriad and creative (both low and high tech) options for deafblind accessibility. 

 

Although I thought, at times, that the writing itself was a bit juvenile, it didn't have too much effect on the overall product that was Girma's memoir. I learned so much, and realized how much more I can do (personally and professionally), and I can encourage work/community spaces to do, to provide more inclusive access for people with disabilities. Girma's perspective, and advocacy, provides such insight into the marginalization of disabilities...not because disabled people are "less" able, but because the world is set up to not accommodate them at all, without thought or interest in how or making it easier in any way. Along similar lines, she talks a lot about when the issue is framed as “overcoming disability”, the overuse of being "inspired" by those with disabilities that reads mostly as pity, and how then the community is not encouraged to change/adapt/provide a more accessible environment - the need for a framing shift is so clearly necessary. Overall, a deeply thought-provoking, internal "do better," push of a book that highlights a perspective that every nondisabled person should read, to at least begin to address the depths of ableism within ourselves and our society. 

 

“It’s a sighted, hearing classroom in a sighted, hearing school in a sighted, hearing society. They designed this environment for people who can see and hear. In this environment, I’m disabled. They place the burden on me to step out of my world and reach into theirs.” 

 

“I brace myself for a tricky conversation. Guiding him through his disability fears requires summoning up enough courage for all of us. My own fears need to stay hidden. Any sign of nervousness on my part till trigger their protective instincts. The production of courage for three people, my parents and I, feels draining. I’ve been doing it more and more; my steps towards independence keep bringing up their fears for my safety. They raised me with stories of their long, arduous journeys to freedom, and I’m determined to reach for mine, too.” 

 

“But I know my abilities, better than anyone else. I’m the expert when it comes to what I can and can’t do.” 

 

“Sighted or blind, Deaf or hearing, each of us holds just the tiniest fraction of the world’s wisdom. Admitting we don’t know everything will aid us on this Trek for Knowledge.” 

 

“Ableism runs so deep in our society that most ableists don’t recognize their actions as ableist. They coat ableism in sweetness, then expect applause for their “good” deeds. Attempts to explain the ableism behind the “good deeds” get brushed aside as sensitive, angry, and ungrateful.” 

 

“Blindness is just the lack of sight, but people inflate the disability to an absurd degree. They assume incompetence, intellectual challenges, and an inability to contribute with alternative techniques. This is decades of cultural stories perpetuating the idea that people with disabilities are inferior to the nondisabled. Wherever I go, regardless of how hard I work, I keep encountering ableism.” 

 

“Love takes time. Love forms through the expression of genuine appreciation, the creation of clear boundaries, the practice of forgiveness, and mutual respect. Over time, these experiences weave together, forming a strong bond between two beings. Time and experience have fostered a trust that draws us together, building a shared understanding that continues to grow.” 

 

“People with disabilities succeed when communities choose to be inclusive. […] Disability is not something an individual overcomes. People with disabilities are successful when we develop alternative techniques and our communities choose inclusion.” 

This is one of those like, "real nonfiction" books that until not that long ago would have really intimidated me. But I am getting more and more into nonfiction and have also figured out the use of audiobooks, with the physical book on hand as reference, that really works for me as far as moving through them. So now I am able to start stretching my nonfiction wings. And thanks to @allisonreadsdc for this particular addition to my nonfiction TBR. 

 

In this book, Treuer takes the widely accepted premise that Indian culture truly "died out" in the 1890s, after the massacre at Wounded Knee, as posited by Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown, and turns it on its head. Treuer actually "starts" this historical counter-narrative right after Wounded Knee, guiding the reader through the evolution of Native American life and culture from that moment through the present. He gives the reader a quick background of the origin stories of the Native peoples in general regions of North America and what is now the United States to get things started and to bring each narrative to the pivotal late 1890s years. Then, mixing historical research, journalism and interviews, and personal memoir (his own family's experiences on an Ojibwe reservation in Minnesota), he follows the myriad challenges to survival and lifestyle faced by these peoples at the colonizing hands of the US government and its (official) citizens. 

 

To start, I have to say that the first section, in which Treuer sort of gives a quick regional summary of the Indigenous peoples in the (now) US from first arrival through late 1890s was...a lot. It was SO much history all at once. And while it was very well communicated and palatable, it was still a bit overwhelming to get it all so quickly (and definitely some of it blurred together). Overall, though, the general messages came through clearly, which I think is more the point of this book anyways, so there's that. Also, as a sort of side note, some of it happened simultaneously (and just before and after) the Civil War and I feel like I thought this all happened before we were that established as a nation...but wow I was so off in my mental timeline. Anyways, through this section, Treuer adds so much nuance and complexity to the popular “colonizers meet indigenous peoples” stories, as well as a very clear iteration of all the nature and species that our “civilization” has destroyed over the years. 

 

Moving forwards into the bulk of this book... I knew, in a sort of general way, about the majority of the concepts and developments covered in this book, but the way Treuer wrote about them here really helped show the complexities with which they were intertwined with each other and in the ways they affected indigenous life. The overall look at the absolute BS of the US government's dealings with Indians, from start to...still today, is as reprehensible as always, from land theft, breaking treaties, mistreatment, massacres, forced migration, and more. In addition, I definitely learned more specific details about the way(s) certain realities came to be, especially in relation to land allotments, boarding schools and, in part, termination - as it was fascinating (and truly upsetting) to read how the paternalism of those trying to "help" the Indian, thinking they were truly allies, was so ineffective (at best) and actively harmful (at worst). (A note on termination and relocation away from reservations: this section was particularly helpful, as far as proving context, in light of my recent reading of Erdrich’s Aspen Words Lit Prize winner The Night Watchman, and one of the focal storylines there.) And then, of course, there's the "we are going to try and pretend this is for anything other than our own gains but that's so clearly what it is" - like the way (with the Dawes Act) the government stole Indian land to fund the theft of its children/boarding schools, along with the nepotism removing the "best" lands from allotment options, plus the western view/control of tribe enrollment for who even qualified for receipt of said allotments, and then the immediate tax collection of said land...just unbelievable (except for how often cycles like that got repeated at the expense of Indian lives/well-being that, of course, it is totally believable). 

 

Overall, Treuer’s examination of the “reasons for underperformance” – lack of access to education, lack of infrastructure, intergenerational sexual abuse, boarding schools, forced religious conversion, historical trauma, exploitation and loss of natural resources – is comprehensive in scope and background and still pointed in detail and example, laying the blame at the feet of those who most deserve it, while maintaining a healthy dose of reality/objectivity in regards to Native Americans’ own reactions and roles. It’s a narrow line to walk, though necessary for providing a full picture, and Treuer follows it with precision.  

 

A final, but major, point I want to recognize is that I absolutely loved the way Treuer focused on what it meant to be Indian in a present-day sense, the look at what it means to remain in touch with culture and tradition while modernizing with the world, and whether having one necessarily precludes the other. Are those concepts mutually exclusive? To this end, I learned so much about current day reservation life, particularly about making a living and finances on reservations, from the sort of odd-jobs (leeching and pinecone gathering and rice growing and fireworks) to the greater enterprises (gambling/casinos) that vary from reservation/tribe/individual to reservation/tribe/individual. This musing on the combination of the traditional and modern meanings of "Indian" was so interesting. And Treuer's point, that Native Americans finally have the emotional and economic space in their lives for many to be able to legitimately ponder what "being Indian" means, is powerful. 

 

The most impactful aspect of this nonfiction is the reframing, not just of the idea that “Indian culture” is a relic of the past (that present day indigenous peoples do not “count” because of the changes they’ve undergone), but also the perspective that all Indian movements and land/tribe changes were due to colonizers, which totally removes the agency and fluidity and agreements/conflicts of the people themselves, which were many and deserve recognition as players/parts of the history. There was a clear and profound connection between Treuer and his subject matter, which he dealt with in a fascinating mix of the professional and the personal, a sweeping recent history told through personal experiences that made the global feel individual, that I found incredibly compelling. I highly, highly recommend this book - I looked forward to picking it back up to listen to every time I had a free moment. 

 

 

“The meaning of America and the myths that informed it had been firmly established. Perhaps this is why the massacre at Wounded Knee became so emblematic. It neatly symbolized the accepted version of reality – of an Indian past and an American present, begun in barbarism but realized as a state of democratic idealism.” 

 

“As we will see, the rhetoric of ownership (Who can own the land? Who can own the air?) was meant to question the assumed rights of the invaders rather than the inherent rights of the dispossessed.” 

 

“America did not conquer the West through superior technology, nor did it demonstrate the advantages of democracy. America ‘won’ the West by blood, brutality, and terror.” 

 

“To be a person was to be a certain kind of person: an American (or Canadian) who owned property and was culturally white. Indian went to school to be not-Indian.” 

 

“Indians fought the government plan after plan, policy after policy, legislative act after legislative act, and they continued to fight. And they fought using their own governments, their own sensibilities, origin stories, legends, language, and creativity. And they fought to remain Indian just as much as they fought for and in order to be Americans, but Americans on their own terms.” 

 

“Federal policy isn’t abstract unless you’re rich. If you’re not, it is something that affects your life and your blood and your bones.” 

 

“Indians were depicted as sharing a problem with many other Americans: more than 19 percent of the population lived below poverty level. Lack of access to day care, employment, job training, adequate housing, and schools was not just an Indian problem: it was an American problem.” (in the 1960s, finally) 

 

“Our people spent the better part of the 1960s and 1970s figuring out how to be both Americans and Indians: how to move forward into the future in such a way as to not leave the past behind; to once and forever destroy the idea that to live one kind of life meant shedding the other one; and to find some productive balance between growth and violence, between destruction and regeneration.” 

 

“The received notion – reinforced at every turn in editorials and investigative pieces and popular culture – is that reservations are where Indians go to suffer and die. They are seen by many Indians as well as non-Indians not as expressions of tribal survival, however twisted or flawed, but as little more than prisons or concentration camps, expressions of the perversion of American democratic ideals into greed – greed rapacious enough to take Indian land and decimate Indian populations but not quite harsh enough to annihilate outright.” 

 

“…bending to a common purpose is more important than arising from a common place.” 

 

“…the aura of dignity conferred by seeing oneself as belonging to a sovereign people, as having rights that adhered to and derived not from the largesse of the government but from continuation of their cultures, community, and polity.” 

 

“Whether we are urban or reservation, our story – the story of “the Indian” – has been a story of loss: loss of land, loss of culture, loss of a way of life. Yes, Indians remain – we remain across the country, as modern Americans and modern Indians. But inwardly we wonder: How much of our culture actually remains? How authentic, really, are we? At what point do we cease being Indians and become simply people descended from Indians?” 

 

 

 

“You don’t get to decide what’s important for us. You can choose for yourself, but no one else. […] The fact that you expect people you shit on to treat you nicely shows just how delusional you are. […] Have you ever considered that something that’s trivial to you could mean…so much more to someone else? You don’t get to take the easy road out and just respect the parts of people that you recognize. And, pro tip: If you find yourself in a similar situation in the future where you’re surrounded by people you don’t understand – Try listening. It’ll work a lot better for you than talking.” 

Alright, I wish I had figured out a little sooner about graphic novels. In particular, this sub-genre of LGBTQ+/queer fantasy/sci-fi graphic novels. Because in the past few weeks I have read The Magic Fish and this and both have felt like a giant, cozy, warm hug and I am so very, very here for it!  

The story opens with Mia joining a deep space construction crew - traveling through space fulfilling contracts to restore old buildings for new purposes. The crew is headed by Alma (project leader) and Char (captain), in addition to Ell (tech) and Jules (general staff). The story jumps in time between present, as Mia starts to become part of the crew-family, and past, where we learn about Mia's first love and her reasons for taking this job, as well as the backgrounds of the rest of the crew and the ways they have all ended up here now. When Mia's full story comes out, the crew rallies around their newest member to take a dangerous mission to help her find her long-lost love.

This basically had all my favorite things: found family, space opera style, a wonderfully sweet first love romance, lots of queer characters and truly gorgeous artwork. I grabbed this from the library on a whim at the end of the shift and, even though I'm in the middle of like 3 other books with more pressing due dates, I started it immediately. And then I had to make myself put it down to go to bed. And I finished it the next day. So I guess I actually didn't really delay my other reads that badly in the end... But oh my goodness, despite the length of this book (and the heft - my goodness it weighs a ton!) I sped through it so fast. 

Back to the book itself. Like I said, it had so much that I loved. The deep space setting is great, because there are so many options for creativity. The architectural restoration crew idea was super unique. Plus, it lent itself so well to stunning visuals. I loved, too, the fish look of the ships, the mysterious "Staircase" area of space, the games the crew (and Mia, while she was in school) played, and so many of the other little details that gave such developmental depth to the setting. We also all know I'm a sucker for a spaceship-based found family, with Firefly, The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet, and The Vanishing Birds, as just a few examples of absolute favorites. So the fact that that was such a central part of this graphic novel and the development of each of these characters, all lost from or feeling left out of their origins/family in some way, got me in all the right feels. 

With a little bit of adventure, a little bit of romance, a little bit of illustrative genius, and a whole lot of heart, I sunk in fast and deep to this graphic novel that is destined to become a comfort read favorite. This might be one of the shortest reviews I've written in awhile, but don't let that misguide you. I just...I only have so many ways to say that reading this felt like snuggling up with a little piece of home and family, whatever that means for you. And I am pretty confident in saying that this novel is one I'll be returning to any time I need my spirits lifted. I highly encourage anyone/everyone to go experience it for themselves!     

 

And here it is, the grand finale. After waiting longer than I'd planned to, after finishing The Poppy War, to pick up The Dragon Republic, I got my hands on this final installment as soon as I could because I needed to know how it all wrapped up. With the amount of world and plot building, in physical scope and political complexity, I was on the edge of my seay to see how Kuang brought it all to a finish point. Also, being honest here, I wanted to get to it before I forgot too many of the details! 

 

This third book picks up essentially right where the second one left off, as far as action is concerned. A few weeks have passed since Rin and Venka and Kitay escaped from Vaisra and his Dragon Republic, leaving Nezha behind as well. They've taken some time to lay low, treat their (myriad) wounds, and try to decide what's next. Allying with the Southern Coalition, Rin finds (yet again) that the leaders are mostly there for their own gain and care little for saving Nikan or the people of the South. So, in a series of short term alliances and dramatic shows of force, Rin, Kitay and Venka turn to the people, especially those of Rin's provincial home province of Tikany, who are willing to risk it all and fight for her, following her banner of violent vengeance in the quest to free Nikan. Facing the intelligence and superior firepower of the Hesperians, the deep-flowing aristocratic power of the Dragon Republic and the North, with guest spots from deposed Empress Su Daji and the Trifecta, Chaghan, and more, Rin and her Phoenix leads a blazing swath of blood and death across the country. 

 

Phew. I mean, I thought the first two books were violent and deadly and horrific and fiery in all the ways (literal and figurative), but Kuang proved here that there's always more... This book brought particular attention to Rin's bloodthirstiness in a really unique way though. Up until now, she was a student or pawn or "just" in charge of the Cike...but here, here she really steps into a full warlord general sort of role, making decisions not based purely on winning a battle or merely staying alive, but in premeditated moves of power consolidation, shows of force, and in general affecting lives on scales she's never had access to before. It was a fascinatingly written transition, because the way it played off her connection and power-drawing from the Phoenix, which had been based purely on anger/vengeance before, the cold-blooded (and sadistic) murder choices she makes in this book come, in some cases, from a very different motivation. Watching Rin come to terms with that, and reconfigure her connection with her god as a result, was while terrifying realistically bloodthirsty, really quite insightful and hard to turn away from. I also really appreciated that despite these slightly more surface-level changes, Rin, at base, remains exactly who she is and has always been: ruthless. She still deals quite a bit with trauma-memories and guilt and PTSD, but has found a unique, and unsurprisingly not particularly healthy, way to deal with it that allows her to tamp it down and keep going. I appreciate this consistency of character because it would have been easy, if not true to her character, to "write" her growth into a better example of leadership. Along these same lines, the way Kuang explored the transition from war general brain to political leadership brain, the differences in wartime versus peacetime (in needs and consequences and qualifications), and if it is even possible to leave the paranoia of battle/need to keep fighting behind, was great. 

 

As far as other character interactions are concerned, Kitay's continued horror at and discomfort with her choices and actions is also written exactly as it should be (in my opinion, anyway), and I loved the complexity between them and their relationship that grows out of that major difference in their POVs. It was incredibly nuanced and made all the better (and it was really dang good to start) by the continued interweaving of each of their interactions with and reactions to Nezha and, as the story progresses, seeing the way their trio mirrored (in many ways) the disastrous inner reality of the Trifecta was a spectacular example of the cyclical nature of history and relationships. The parallels of the three, the intricacies of dependency and need and love and betrayal, and the ways those played out so similarly, as the interdependence and power struggles and going-to-your-head of it all tears them apart from the inside out with myriad external fallout...it was all so well done. Also, the way it only takes one small moment to change trajectory had me on tenterhooks waiting to find out if they'd make all the same mistakes or if they'd choose a different path. 

 

Some final thoughts. Goodness...this book was nonstop for the entire 24 hours of listening (yup - I went with the audiobook again because I really enjoyed the narration of the last one). The depth of detail in the war and political strategy stays top-notch. I know I've said this in every review so far, but it bears repeating: Kuang's combination of twentieth century Chinese history and full-on magic/mythology (especially of Rin's fire and the Phoenix, but also Nezha and his Dragon and, no spoilers, but some new god-connections as well) is truly some of the best writing I have ever read. There is so much depth to it all, so much detail.  The continued presence of the Hesperians, their clear parallels to Western culture and technology and faith and "superiority," also stood as a clear commentary and condemnation of the harm colonialism, that was impossible not to see...and impossible to pretend it was anything other than the horror it was. I loved how Kuang also simultaneously exemplified how the native peoples weren’t (and shouldn’t have had to be) good/special/unified or “better” in any way, in order to be able to continue to live in their own traditions and beliefs. Because in the end, how were their beliefs, false unity, infighting/inequity, etc. any "worse" (read: less worthy of existing) than their oppressors' version of those same things? Last, what a spectacular, perfect, stunning ending! I was shattering and I loved it. I was definitely slightly concerned that the ending would wrap too cleanly or would feel too perfect, considering on what a large scale Rin had smashed the existing structures to bits. But the ending was perfect - in line for her character, her relationships, her role in the world, the overall situation - it was truly the only way, it felt right in every way, and it was everything. 

 

*deep heaving sigh* I cannot believe this trilogy is over. Kuang wrote something so special here and I loved it. The development of the world (historical fiction and high fantasy) and characters was ambitious and compelling and developed to perfection. As a reader, I both hated and loved Rin (with a lot of feeling) at the same time. And just as she destroyed and cleansed and rebirthed Nika through Phoenix fire, I feel like I went through a similar experience while reading it. That’s the freaking skill that Kuang brought us with her writing. 

 

“You don’t fix hurts by pretending they never happened. You treat them like infected wounds. You dig deep with a burning knife and gouge out the rotten flesh and then, maybe, you have a chance to heal.” 

 

“…the battles were easy. Destroying was easy. The hard part was the aftermath.” 

 

“The point of revenge wasn’t to heal. The point was that exhilaration, however temporary, drowned out the hurt.” 

 

“And you should know by now that when you leave your enemies alive, wars don’t end.” 

 

“Let them think of us as dirt, Rin thought. She was dirt. Her army was dirt. But dirt was common, ubiquitous, patient, and necessary. The soil gave life to the country. And the earth always reclaimed what it was owed.” 

 

“Rin was a monster, a murderer, a destroyer of world. Nothing but blood and ashes ever trailed in her wake. The world was a better, safer, and more peaceful place without her in it. He believed that. And yet…” 

 

 

 

This collection, and Smith's poetry in general, were put on my radar by @booksteahenny. I don't read a lot of poetry, as you know, so I added this to the list for the next time I was in the mood for it. And then, after a suggestion from @lifeofgabriellejane after I posted about the last collection I read (Citizen) and struggled with comprehending, a bit (if I'm honest), I grabbed both the physical and audiobook and holy hell was the ever the right call for this collection! So thanks and shoutout to both those readers/reviewers. 

 

This is likely to be a short review, overall, but don't let that fool you. Smith's poetry is spectacular. From the very first poem, and consistently throughout the rest of the book, they write with an intensity that just blew me away. There's a movement, a motion, in the words, both visually on the page and in the flow of the writing, that sweeps the reader with it in a way that's impossible to resist (not that you'll want to). It's enhanced even more by the audiobook, if you go that route. Smith reads it themselves and makes it truly something special - their intonation and tone and rhythm and emphasis, the feeling imbued into the words, and just the general vibe from their voice is mesmerizing. 

 

Back to the writing itself, for just one more moment...it is, like I said, spectacular. The wordplay (the freaking wordplay!) is simply on another level, so intricate and complex, and it was both fascinating and a joy to read it. If you love language, then this is definitely a collection for you. And at the same time, it is so approachable. I am a poetry novice-ish and I felt like I both understood and could follow Smith's messages and emotions and was therefore able to sink into them, be enveloped by them, and really experience them. The intermingling of the word play and formatting with the sense of culture and identity and people was a combination that was steeped together to perfection. So much emotion comes through in these poems, grief and sorrow and fear and regret, and it's delivered with all the strength and anger that it deserves.You can feel it in the words. It's a very visceral reading experience, especially considering the topics range from (a content warning note here) violence and gun violence to racism (interpersonal and systemic and historical) to mental health and suicide to grief to LGBTQ+ experiences (including being HIV+) and pride and phobias and more. But there is also so much about belonging and family (blood and found) and friends and faith and love and connection, with people and culture. 

 

I don't know if this is a thing that's ok or makes sense to do, or not, but there are a few full poems that were really standouts for me and I guess I just want to recognize them. And if you've read this collection and had any of the same favorites - let me know! There was something about jumped!, the sort of prayerful, painful need and belonging in it that was so affecting. Oh my goodness fall poem was...whoa; perfectly angrily tragic. There was some deep introspection and personal emotions in sometimes i wish i felt the side effects - emotion that I don't really think I can put into words but could feel within them, an almost wistful regret that held such depth. shout out to my n***** in Mexico - the recognition and representation here thrummed with life. C.R.E.A.M. hit the reader hard with reality. I cried a little reading waiting on you to die so I can be myself - and honestly, the title says why better than I ever could. The message in my poems about the way we all talk about the power of words and yet, are Smith's words really having the intended effects, the way they would have if, instead of the titular poems in the situations listed in the poem, they used actual weapons? Who knows... 

 

Overall, this collection was straight dynamite. There is so much life in these poems that they’re almost vibrating with it. I recommend it hardcore.    

 

Here are a few lines that really grabbed/stood out for me. But also, take these few with a giant grain of salt because there were so freakin many lines that I was blown away by, but since they built so much on previous lines/wordplay, they wouldn't make sense pulled out on their own, I'd have to transcribe the whole poem for the impact to remain. So basically, what I'm saying is to go read this, or listen (of course), because it is well worth the hour or so that it will take you. 

 

“i did not come to preach of peace / for that's not the hunted’s duty” (from say it with your whole black mouth) 

 

“& i’m sorry the world is so good at making / us feel like we have to fight for space / to fight for our lives” (from what was said at the bus stop) 

 

"what do you do when a boy lynches himself / when the mob isn't after his skin / but under it, when anything that can hold / his weight becomes a tree" (from for Andrew) 

 

“you made coming out coming in from the storm” (from acknowledgements) 

 

 

 

 

“We spent so much time looking for pieces of ourselves in other people that we never realized they were busy searching for the same things in us.”

 

The cover of this book is so eye-catching! I’ve had it on my list for a while because of that, in a sort of backburner capacity, but I have to be honest and say I didn’t really know what it was about. Quite recently, Arnett published a second novel, With Teeth, that has been getting a fair amount of buzz and I figured maybe the time was ripe to finally pick this one up.

Everything changes the morning that Jessa-Lynn Morton walks into the workshop of her family's taxidermy shop and finds her father, dead by suicide, at his work bench...with a letter addressed to her sitting next to him. Per his instructions, Jessa-Lynn steps up and takes over the failing shop, trying to keep both it, and her family, from drowning. But it's tough, as her mother deals with her grief by creating increasingly more lewd art with the shop's taxidermied animals, her brother (Milo) mourns the wife (Brynn) that left him (the wife that is also the only woman Jessa-Lynn has ever loved), Brynn's children are left without consistent supervision, and Jessa-Lynn herself is falling into alcohol as a coping mechanism for the loss of the father she idolized, the woman she loved, and the general bottled up emotions and relationships she's allowed to stagnate.

Whoa. This book was messy. Like, purposefully, authentically, messy. Every single character is handling their grief in a very imperfect, very real, way. And reading it was both uncomfortable and also a bit cathartic. That actually goes not just for the grief they're experiencing, if I'm being honest. The story itself is told in a dual timeline way, unfolding both in the present (as things are falling apart), but also in the past, giving the reading the background on all the "origin stories" of these characters. So, we get to see how Jessa-Lynn and Brynn fall into a covert (but not as secret as they thought) physical relationship as high-schoolers, and the way that evolved to end in Brynn marrying Milo. We also watch how Jessa-Lynn and Milo's father, following some very stereotypical gender-role expectations, shows clear disappointment in Milo's lack of interest in taking up taxidermy, while leaning hard on Jessa-Lynn's interest in it to help him, but never being fully willing to train her as a full apprentice. His control issues and gender-lines rolled over too into his decision to end his life, the responsibility he (unfairly) saddled Jess-Lynn with, and the unorthodox and uncomfortably (for the rest of the family) sexual way that his wife deals with mourning him. In general, this book dove head first into the uglier sides of interpersonal relationships, outside the "normal" and into some really unconventional, almost excruciating (for this reader at least), interactions. And yet, these characters are all just humans, doing their best with what they've been handed. And in that way, Arnett provides some that literary magic that makes this super strange and pretty messed up set of lives and stories that are sort of lost in the cracks of life, into something worth reading about.

Other than the characters (because this is very much a character-development novel, as opposed to one with a heftier plot line), the one other major part of this novel that I would be remiss if I didn't mention, is the taxidermy piece. On its own, that would kind of be enough to add weirdness to any novel (in my opinion, anyways), but Arnett takes it one (or several) steps further.  This aspect of the novel was pretty dark and weird. The hyper-focus on the gritty aspects of bodies, blood and skin and bone and fur, was explicit and intense. And the juxtaposition of those taxidermy details with sapphic attraction, was reminiscent of The Pisces, in it's strange and kind of off-putting, but also totally fascinating and philosophical, look at sex and sexuality. Honestly, I can't decide whether I loved or was repulsed by it, so I feel like at the very least it's a mark of good writing. And along these lines, in looking at the writing, it was just really well executed. The vibe of wistfulness and deep longing in the writing gave the book a sort of sepia-toned delivery, perfectly fit to the messiness (almost dirtiness) of the characters and their journeys that you somehow still felt for.

Overall, if I had to pick just a few words to describe this novel, I'd have to go with grotesque and unrequited. So basically, this book definitely won't be for everyone. And I think it requires being in the right headspace to really appreciate it. But at the same time, it's the type of book that, if you're at all in the mood for, will hit the spot like nothing else could. And you'll come out the side just as ready for new beginnings as these characters are.