This book is a chonk. An absolute unit. If you miss doorstoppers (and being able to read them in one sitting), this book delivers. It only took me two shabboses to get through. 
It was fun, it did the epic fantasy thing very well, and there were dragons. It was one of those books that sets out to tell a good story in a settled genre and succeeds admirably. 

This book was an inventive delight. Magic and spaceships and found family and teenagers saving the world. It’s just great.

I love Zen Cho’s range even if it sometimes mean I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. 
This book was really fun and the sense of fun comes predominantly from the narrator’s personality and wry realness in having to deal with the spirit world. Everything about her is incredibly relatable and so deeply realized and Cho has the ability to invite readers into her world, regardless of where they stand. I tend to prefer secondary worlds to this one, but really enjoyed this one. 

This book is basically everything I love in my nonfiction: interesting, accessible, weird and teaching me about things I had never had any reason to encounter. 
I want to meet an octopus now.

What, and I mean this with the deepest enjoyment of my experience, WHAT did I just read?
Why did it happen? What inspired Saunders to use Lincoln and the backdrop of Willie Lincoln's death? Where did these ideas come from?
Everything about this book is a bit of a fever dream and I don't know if that's what makes the meditation on life and the clinging to it possible or gets in the way of it.
It's a book about fearing death and mourning and what we lose when we lose a person. And it's also deeply deeply...something.
I nearly stopped when I realized it was a full-cast audiobook, although I'm grateful I didn't since the style of the book lends itself to the extreme oddness of changing voices. The book as a performed drama works great and I'm actually glad I encountered it in this format.

For a book with a lot of promise, this one both stood and delivered. (sorry!) It was fun and silly and light—not so much in topic as in how it handled it. It wasn't interested in interrogating economic philosophies; merely in bringing up the somewhat obvious ones that tend to get overlooked in this genre (yes, ALL lords, especially landlords) and offering its protagonist relatively easy answers while still maintaining the experience of quiet joy in its exploration of, to borrow a line from Into the Woods, how "nice is different than good". But the point is not to investigate the layers of complicitness, the point (as it so often is with romance novels) is to offer an acceptable—which in this case would mean ethical enough—escape from the question.
And that is the joy of the book in the end.
Also, shoutout to Sebastian for having her characters apologize for hurting each other within a reasonable time frame and like adults instead of making a mountain out of molehill.

This is apparently my week for "what did I just read!?" books and, as always, Oyeyemi does not disappoint.
Everything about this book was carefully crafted and utterly bonkers. The fact that Oyeyemi manages to walk that tightrope the entire way across and, rather than fall off at the end, just swan dive into the weird is a testament to her writing skill. I really liked it and also really felt like I had no handle on it whatsoever.
There are writers I can only read by listening to and other writers I cannot listen to at all because I just can't follow whatever it is they are doing. By dint of experiment, I have discovered Oyeyemi is the latter. But oh what a ride.

Wolfe is, frustratingly, one of those authors I feel like I need to read within the context of a seminar because I never get what he's doing otherwise.
It doesn't help that this is both a sequel (thanks, book jacket, for mentioning that!) and possibly not finished at the time of the author's death.
But I've read other Wolfe and I would not have assumed either of those things.
And also the premise and set pieces and the whole EVERYTHING is just so interesting and strange that I can't help but assume it was on purpose and the disjointedness reflects the characters as much as the book's circumstances. 

Hugo reading strikes again and I think we may now be at the point of "I wish I had gotten around to it before reading for awards-reasons", because my head was NOT in this book.
And, having said that, it did the thing where weird stuff happens in the prologue and then you have no context and go off to meet more new people so it took me until at least halfway through the book itself to be invested in what was going to happen and, even then, I think I just spent a lot of time being frustrated.
I appreciated what Roanhorse was trying to do, but it took so long to come together and then it did for a brief moment and then that was the end of the book, stay tuned for the sequel. I wanted more from THIS book.

It's been a weird week and I think it's fair to say my reading has been reflecting that.
Oh, Lewis. What are you even?
There are ways in which this book is a meaningful exploration of what it means to be in a world where pain can happen, there are ways in which—in its ground rules and axioms—it begs so many questions in its Christian framework, and there are, of course, ways in which it utterly illuminates aspects of what Lewis was doing with Narnia.
He's such an interesting thinker and I'm glad I finally encountered his theology of omnipotence firsthand.