I honestly don’t remember where I first heard of Deborah A. Miranda’s Bad Indians: A Tribal Memoir. It might have been my college’s class on indigenous people. Regardless, I knew I needed to read Miranda’s memoir. It was necessary for my personal improvement as well as my current solarpunk Los Angeles writing project.

As advertised in the blurb, Bad Indians stitches and shifts genre the same way Miranda must stitch and shift identities to survive. Primary historical sources are woven in with her stories and her poetry when prose can’t capture the pain. Grief, rage, and forced resilience are volatile themes. I really got a sense of how little time has passed since the colonial apocalypse. The intergenerational pain is still ongoing. Even the dedication–“To my parents, who survived each other”–made me pause and think. Other “oh!” moments were plentiful. The relationship between anthropologists and indigenous communities is fraught and strange. Scholars exploited elders for academic cred. New indigenous generations mine these scholars’ works for their own histories, because their pretentious papers are often the only surviving records. My history classes skipped over the fact that indigenous people were sold into slavery after the collapse of the mission system. Wtf, teachers.

A sizeable chunk of the book focused on the elementary school mission project. For those unfamiliar, in California, elementary schoolers create book reports and sometimes dioramas of a chosen mission. In my school, the project had some taint of sadness: both because of the massive indigenous death tolls and because, as a white person, our colonial coming destroyed this type of community. It was a strange place to inhabit, and Miranda’s insights made it even stranger. I’m definitely against the mission project now.

With Miranda’s compassionate rage and sorrowful determination, Bad Indians is an incisive read, if painful at times due to the subject matter. It feels like a Californian successor to Ma-Nee Chacaby’s A Two Spirit Journey autobiography. I’m filled with a new drive for justice that needs to be done. I really want to read Miranda’s other works. 

I first heard of Ma-Nee Chacaby’s autobiography on Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian’s blog, when she featured it as a finalist for the 2016 Lambda Literary Awards. Since it’s a Canadian publication from a university press, I never expected to see it out in the wild. I suppose I should never doubt my local library! When I saw A Two-Spirit Journey on the shelf, I froze for a good second in shock before snatching it up.

Chronicling her life from childhood to ~2013, the autobiography isn’t light reading, but even the lowest of the low points are buoyed by Chacaby’s gentle, plain-speaking voice. She carries herself through truly harrowing experiences. Her indigenous lifeways are her lifeline. My heart bled and bloomed by turns. Once Chacaby reached adulthood, it was lovely to witness her happiness, though obviously recovery isn’t linear. What impressed me the most is how Chacaby, after escaping toxic situations, would dive right back in there to help others. Barely escaping with her kids from an extremely abusive marriage, she took on other people’s children via fostering and adoption. Working as a counselor returned her to the home insecure communities she was barely out of herself. For the historians in the crowd, I highly recommend A Two-Spirit Journey as a primary source for life in late 20thc. Canada, especially for people who share Chacaby’s identities.

In the back matter, Mary Louisa Plummer explains her methodology for the book. Her and Chacaby’s commitment to her voice and the stranger’s accessibility work together wonderfully. I felt honored to be able to listen to Chacaby’s story, like I was listening to a grandmother over tea. I want to read more autobiographies like Chacaby’s, and I’ve already had a promising start with Deborah A. Miranda’s Bad Indians: A Tribal Memoir. Miranda’s experience sits comfortably side-by-side with Chacaby’s: the one informs the other. I also wish Chacaby a very pleasant All The Money. The shrinkage of social services over the course of the novel was awful. Despite how many lives she’d touched, despite how many people she’s helped, Chacaby lives on a pittance. But, importantly, she still lives.

Chacaby’s autobiography is very important reading for everyone, especially for anyone interested in learning about two-spirit indigenous lives. Chacaby and Plummer have given us a gift.

Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian’s blog post: https://caseythecanadianlesbrarian.wordpress.com/2017/03/21/the-seven-canadian-and-indigenous-lambda-finalists-im-most-excited-about/ 

Fuller review to come, but rest assured: I would read a million billion entries in this series. Wow!

After dragging my feet to read Love Kills Twice, I'm blazing through the series now. Justine and Campbell are OTP material. Love Bleeds Deep is, appropriately, a bloody deep dive into the heart of the characters: where they are now; what they have been. Victor is a truly terrifying villain, and it was fun to share a name with a Gray character, haha. Godspeed, other Natalie. You've been touched by greatness. 

As a long time fan of Gray's game writing, it's an utter treat and exquisite delight to have their words in highlight-able book form. And A LOT of this book is highlighted, as Gray's wordcraft is stunning. I dragged my heels reading this book because romantic thrillers aren't my cup of tea, and the premise sounded very thriller-y. Imagine my surprised pleasure when, despite the high-octane premise, the characters shine above all. And what characters! Justine and Campbell are fantastic, and this book proves that murder can be a love language. Even the husband Richard was given depth, which made him understandable (though not sympathetic: eat maggots, dillweed). The sex scenes are worth more fire emojis than I can type. This story is so captivating I finished it in 2 sittings, and I'm onto the sequel. 100% recommend to all who want their romance with the delicious agony of danger. 

I will likely write a fuller review later, but for now: savor A Love So Dark like a fine bloodwine! Fatal Fidelity is SO GOOD, y'all. From book 1 to now book 4, I adore the characters, the poetic language, and the feminist knife twist on classic noir. Reading Gray's works reminds me of the beauty of the written word and inspires me to continue crafting. Fatal Fidelity is utterly gorgeous to the last page. Justine, Campbell, Sofia, and Enrico deserve the world. 

How to Excavate a Heart was a holiday read for our sapphic book club. Our members come from a variety of faith traditions, and one lived with a family obsessed with the Hallmark Channel. How to Excavate a Heart’s blurb offers a refreshing perspective on the cliche winter holiday tale. Arlow’s work delivered.

The saving grace of Shani’s winter break is a paleoichthyology internship at the Smithsonian. The rest of her life feels tattered: her first college semester was rocky at best, her relationship with her mom has some serious growing pains, and her girlfriend broke up with her. What was supposed to be a mini-new start immediately sours when she runs over someone walking their dog. That someone ends up being May, a prickly lost soul with her own family troubles. After some initial tension, the pair get on like a house on fire…which is not what this winter break was supposed to be about!

How to Excavate a Heart is a great, realistic queer teen romance. Often I feel out of step with YA, but Arlow found me. Both Shani and May are their own individuals, and they grow in organic ways. By novel’s end, they’re not out of the woods, but the path forward is clearer. Some of our book club members were put off with how Shani flirts with a younger barista in order to get free coffee. The recurring schtick is treated as a joke. While I wasn’t bothered, even I expected Shani to show character growth in this area. 

If that’s the only quibble I can muster up, trust that How to Excavate a Heart is a good book. I want more Shani/May. I want more fun fish facts. I honestly want to read a book about Shani’s grandma and her friend–they’re incredibly vivid on page, despite the grandma being dead. Where is the cute-tastic sequel?

While my love of danmei endures, I wanted to explore modern Chinese lesbian novels as well. What we might call wlw or f/f in the West, China’s bookish audience classifies as “baihe.” Every single baihe rec list I found pointed me towards 请君莫笑’s works and Female General and Eldest Princess specifically.

Lin Wanyue lives a peaceful life with her family until the Huns slaughter everyone and burn her village to the ground. Vowing revenge, she takes on her dead twin brother’s identity so she can join the army and murder as many Huns as possible. In the same year, miles away, the First Princess Li Xian vows to her dying mother that one day crown prince Li Zhu will be Emperor, no matter the cost. When Lin Wanyue’s unstoppable force meets Li Xian’s immovable object, sparks fly, and the empire will never be the same.

Female General and Eldest Princess has a much more straightforward tone than other novels set in lightly fictionalized historical China. The simpler, more streamlined politics make it much less unwieldy than say, Thousand Autumns. Some real historical events are touched upon–the building of the Great Wall, the incessant Hun attacks–but the dynasty is fictional. The overall vibe was heavily reminiscent of Mulan, like a war epic with a lesbian villain romance. You read that right–this is a villain romance. Not knowing that going in seriously marred my reading experience. Characters don’t need to be heroic, but I like a little warning before reading passages evaluating the pros of genocide. People die and die and die so Li Zhu can have that Emperor seat, and it’s unclear if he’s worth it. 

That’s my only quibble with the book. The rest is praise. The battle sequences are exciting and excellently written. Every knife twist, every political turn had me scrolling faster and faster, trying to get as much of this novel into my brain as possible. Though I was surprised by the lengths they were willing to go for their goals, I adore Lin Wanyue and Li Xian, and I reveled in their HEA. Queer people can thrive in ancient times! In a chapter end note, the author comes out as a lesbian, and that made my heart warm all over.

While Female General and Eldest Princess wasn’t what I expected, the great character work, beautiful romance, and engaging plot indicate 请君莫笑’s high skill. I’ve set my sights on her other works set in modern times with a death god roommate. 

Volume 4 is all Extras! We made it, folks!

For those unfamiliar, “Extras” are bonus stories after the novel proper. They’re shorter and tend to be softer in tone and content. Some are downright silly or alternate universe scenarios. The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, Volume 4 treats us to stories filling out side-characters and establishing Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe’s new life together—which was sorely missing last volume. Our main pairing explores the intimacies and teamwork necessary for a functional relationship. I ate that shit up. Yue Qingyuan, Shen Jiu, Mobei Jun, Shang Qinghua, Zhuhzhi-lang, and Luo Binghe’s parental units all receive time in the spotlight. Everyone’s worthy of a story. Like I said in my review of the first volume, I read a different translation before, and apparently one of the Extras was missing! The wine extra was completely new to me, and a delight.

Though the stories may be called Extras, do not skip this volume! It’s a plethora of treats, a hard-won dessert, and a fantastically good time. I love The Scum Villain Self-Saving System from start to finish.

Review of Scum Villain Vol 1: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/f797e4a5-9dc6-4810-bedd-0b2704a871b0

Review of Scum Villain Vol 2: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/64a2b986-fd86-4f98-9d8e-b680ad6e9e5a

Review of Scum Villain Vol 3: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/a3156dc1-eaa9-45ef-8a33-96febcee9cf2