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828 reviews by:
olivialandryxo
3.5 stars
My introduction to Leno’s work, You Must Not Miss was a bizarre novel I’m not entirely sure how to classify. It’s a contemporary with an alternate world as a major part of the story — speculative fiction? Surrealism? Beyond that, I’m not sure how I feel about the novel as a whole.
The story was undeniably interesting, unlike anything I’ve read before. It’s an ode to grief, a call out of sexual abuse and rape culture, a representation of the desire to escape life’s problems without actually dying. However, despite these definite positives, the first three quarters of the story were slow-going and occasionally confusing. I was intrigued almost immediately, but it took a considerable amount of time for me to truly be hooked.
Magpie was a remarkably developed, morally grey character I couldn’t help but root for. Never very outgoing to start, the past six months prior to the story’s beginning have subdued Magpie considerably. She caught her father in bed with her aunt, she was sexually abused while drunk at a party, thus cut off by her own best friend, her mom fell into alcoholism, prompting her sister to run away to college and causing all of the responsibilities to fall on her own shoulders. The poor girl can’t catch a break, and she’s basically given up hope of passing sophomore year. As the novel progresses, Magpie grows more comfortable in Near, the utopian world of her own making, and plans to enact revenge on those who have wronged her before retreating to Near. While sometimes disturbing, I was fascinated.
The light in this grim story was the friends Magpie made after the party that ruined her. Though the rest of the student body deems them outcasts — Clare for her own grief, Brianna for a natural occurrence out of her control, and Luke and Ben for their queer identities — they were good to Magpie. Clare and Ben were my favorites, with the former replacing the friend Magpie lost and the latter standing by her through everything, open to the possibility of becoming more. Unfortunately that never happens, but I absolutely would’ve been down for it.
In the final eighty or so pages of the novel, I believe the story really picks up. I didn’t want to stop reading until I reached the end, and I actually put off unpacking until I did. Leno could’ve taken the story down a darker path, which certainly would’ve been intriguing, but ultimately I think the one she chose was satisfying.
My primary issue with the novel was the vagueness of the ending. A good, fulfilling conclusion could’ve made this a four star read, but I found the lack of detail a bit disappointing. Magpie targeted three people, and two of them got different treatment than the third. It’s hard to explain while remaining spoiler-free, but I’m not sure why those two were differentiated. What about the third? How did two bounce back from such an ordeal? What exactly happened to Magpie and Alison and Ann Marie and Clare and Ben? I would’ve loved answers, maybe another perspective or two in the epilogue.
You Must Not Miss is a novel that weaves important topics into an intriguing story, but I’m not sure it’s my cup of tea. As the months pass, I’ll either remember this for its strangeness or forget it entirely; only time will tell. I don’t see myself picking up any of Leno’s other work, but I’d recommend this to you if you can handle the content and are in the mood for something out of the ordinary.
Representation:
• Clare has anxiety.
• Luke is bisexual and ends up in a relationship with another boy, though it’s very minor.
• Ben is a trans boy.
CW: alcoholism, bullying, biphobia, transphobia, adultery, violence, sexual abuse, anxiety attack
I received this ARC via #bookishwish on Twitter. This doesn’t affect my opinion or the content of my review.
My introduction to Leno’s work, You Must Not Miss was a bizarre novel I’m not entirely sure how to classify. It’s a contemporary with an alternate world as a major part of the story — speculative fiction? Surrealism? Beyond that, I’m not sure how I feel about the novel as a whole.
The story was undeniably interesting, unlike anything I’ve read before. It’s an ode to grief, a call out of sexual abuse and rape culture, a representation of the desire to escape life’s problems without actually dying. However, despite these definite positives, the first three quarters of the story were slow-going and occasionally confusing. I was intrigued almost immediately, but it took a considerable amount of time for me to truly be hooked.
Magpie was a remarkably developed, morally grey character I couldn’t help but root for. Never very outgoing to start, the past six months prior to the story’s beginning have subdued Magpie considerably. She caught her father in bed with her aunt, she was sexually abused while drunk at a party, thus cut off by her own best friend, her mom fell into alcoholism, prompting her sister to run away to college and causing all of the responsibilities to fall on her own shoulders. The poor girl can’t catch a break, and she’s basically given up hope of passing sophomore year. As the novel progresses, Magpie grows more comfortable in Near, the utopian world of her own making, and plans to enact revenge on those who have wronged her before retreating to Near. While sometimes disturbing, I was fascinated.
The light in this grim story was the friends Magpie made after the party that ruined her. Though the rest of the student body deems them outcasts — Clare for her own grief, Brianna for a natural occurrence out of her control, and Luke and Ben for their queer identities — they were good to Magpie. Clare and Ben were my favorites, with the former replacing the friend Magpie lost and the latter standing by her through everything, open to the possibility of becoming more. Unfortunately that never happens, but I absolutely would’ve been down for it.
In the final eighty or so pages of the novel, I believe the story really picks up. I didn’t want to stop reading until I reached the end, and I actually put off unpacking until I did. Leno could’ve taken the story down a darker path, which certainly would’ve been intriguing, but ultimately I think the one she chose was satisfying.
My primary issue with the novel was the vagueness of the ending. A good, fulfilling conclusion could’ve made this a four star read, but I found the lack of detail a bit disappointing. Magpie targeted three people, and two of them got different treatment than the third. It’s hard to explain while remaining spoiler-free, but I’m not sure why those two were differentiated. What about the third? How did two bounce back from such an ordeal? What exactly happened to Magpie and Alison and Ann Marie and Clare and Ben? I would’ve loved answers, maybe another perspective or two in the epilogue.
You Must Not Miss is a novel that weaves important topics into an intriguing story, but I’m not sure it’s my cup of tea. As the months pass, I’ll either remember this for its strangeness or forget it entirely; only time will tell. I don’t see myself picking up any of Leno’s other work, but I’d recommend this to you if you can handle the content and are in the mood for something out of the ordinary.
Representation:
• Clare has anxiety.
• Luke is bisexual and ends up in a relationship with another boy, though it’s very minor.
• Ben is a trans boy.
CW: alcoholism, bullying, biphobia, transphobia, adultery, violence, sexual abuse, anxiety attack
I received this ARC via #bookishwish on Twitter. This doesn’t affect my opinion or the content of my review.
2.5 stars
I wasn’t a fan of Everything, Everything, but decided to give The Sun Is Also a Star a try because of the movie. I’ve heard generally positive things, and many reviews say this is better than Yoon’s debut. Unfortunately, I wasn’t a fan of this one, either.
Let me start by saying that I did love Natasha. She’s a fierce protagonist that loves and believes in science, and I admired her confidence and intelligence. She’s a contemporary icon, and I would’ve loved if the entire novel was from her perspective. Lowkey might see the movie just for her.
And then there’s Daniel, hopeless romantic, wannabe poet, and possibly five blocks of cheese in a trench coat. Give me a freaking break. He was a cheesy, truly cringeworthy love interest, and more often than not, he grated on my nerves. Natasha would be cheddar off without him. Characters like him are generally hit or Swiss, and in my opinion, he definitely wasn’t a hit.
Cheese puns aside, the romance also wasn’t for me. It’s basically the embodiment of insta-love. Some reviews I read say that it’s not insta-love, but the idea of meeting someone that you know you’ll fall in love with, or something along that line. Maybe you agree with that, and that’s fine, but I don’t. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to kiss a person I just met less than six hours ago that follows me around. I’m certainly not going to consider sex in a karaoke room, asexual or not. I certainly don’t know everything, but I think feelings that early on are either a crush or lust, not love. Love takes time. Love is the little things, the ups and the downs. [Says the girl who’s never been in a relationship.]
Natasha: *holding a frying pan* I don’t know what brought you here. Fate, destiny...
Daniel: *under his breath* A horse...
I’m not sure what the point of the random chapters sprinkled throughout the story were, the ones that gave us a few paragraphs or maybe a couple of pages regarding an insignificant side character or the history of a thing or concept that doesn’t really matter. Why should I care about the religious train conductor or the cheating lawyer? Why should I care about the history of eyes or the three sisters of fate? Maybe there’s a purpose that went over my head, but either way, I wasn’t interested.
On a deeper level, this novel explores immigration and deportation. Natasha is Jamaican-American; she came to the US with her parents when she was eight years old and has been there ever since. Now, because of her father’s mistake, she and her family are scheduled for deportation that very evening. I think this is the first novel I’ve read with such themes, and although I’m not Jamaican or an immigrant and thus can’t comment on representation, I’ve not seen any complaints.
SPOILERS IN THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH.
One detail that frustrated me was that Daniel found out Natasha would ultimately be deported before she did, because his Yale interviewer happened to be her lawyer. They were chatting, he was nosy, and the lawyer just...told him? I’m by no means a legal expert, and I don’t know much of anything regarding these sorts of situations, but is that legal? Can a lawyer tell a person details of a case if said person isn’t involved or family to those involved? And the fact that the lawyer couldn’t help Natasha because he was too busy cheating on his wife with his secretary...I’m bitter.
END SPOILERS.
Ultimately, although I wanted to enjoy it, The Sun Is Also a Star is not a novel for me. I liked Natasha’s character, but not much else. I might see the movie at some point; however, I don’t plan to keep my copy of this book or to pick up any of Yoon’s future work.
Representation:
• Natasha is an undocumented Jamaican immigrant.
• Daniel is South Korean-American.
CW: racism, mention of cheating, mention of suicide
I wasn’t a fan of Everything, Everything, but decided to give The Sun Is Also a Star a try because of the movie. I’ve heard generally positive things, and many reviews say this is better than Yoon’s debut. Unfortunately, I wasn’t a fan of this one, either.
Let me start by saying that I did love Natasha. She’s a fierce protagonist that loves and believes in science, and I admired her confidence and intelligence. She’s a contemporary icon, and I would’ve loved if the entire novel was from her perspective. Lowkey might see the movie just for her.
And then there’s Daniel, hopeless romantic, wannabe poet, and possibly five blocks of cheese in a trench coat. Give me a freaking break. He was a cheesy, truly cringeworthy love interest, and more often than not, he grated on my nerves. Natasha would be cheddar off without him. Characters like him are generally hit or Swiss, and in my opinion, he definitely wasn’t a hit.
Cheese puns aside, the romance also wasn’t for me. It’s basically the embodiment of insta-love. Some reviews I read say that it’s not insta-love, but the idea of meeting someone that you know you’ll fall in love with, or something along that line. Maybe you agree with that, and that’s fine, but I don’t. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to kiss a person I just met less than six hours ago that follows me around. I’m certainly not going to consider sex in a karaoke room, asexual or not. I certainly don’t know everything, but I think feelings that early on are either a crush or lust, not love. Love takes time. Love is the little things, the ups and the downs. [Says the girl who’s never been in a relationship.]
Natasha: *holding a frying pan* I don’t know what brought you here. Fate, destiny...
Daniel: *under his breath* A horse...
I’m not sure what the point of the random chapters sprinkled throughout the story were, the ones that gave us a few paragraphs or maybe a couple of pages regarding an insignificant side character or the history of a thing or concept that doesn’t really matter. Why should I care about the religious train conductor or the cheating lawyer? Why should I care about the history of eyes or the three sisters of fate? Maybe there’s a purpose that went over my head, but either way, I wasn’t interested.
On a deeper level, this novel explores immigration and deportation. Natasha is Jamaican-American; she came to the US with her parents when she was eight years old and has been there ever since. Now, because of her father’s mistake, she and her family are scheduled for deportation that very evening. I think this is the first novel I’ve read with such themes, and although I’m not Jamaican or an immigrant and thus can’t comment on representation, I’ve not seen any complaints.
SPOILERS IN THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH.
One detail that frustrated me was that Daniel found out Natasha would ultimately be deported before she did, because his Yale interviewer happened to be her lawyer. They were chatting, he was nosy, and the lawyer just...told him? I’m by no means a legal expert, and I don’t know much of anything regarding these sorts of situations, but is that legal? Can a lawyer tell a person details of a case if said person isn’t involved or family to those involved? And the fact that the lawyer couldn’t help Natasha because he was too busy cheating on his wife with his secretary...I’m bitter.
END SPOILERS.
Ultimately, although I wanted to enjoy it, The Sun Is Also a Star is not a novel for me. I liked Natasha’s character, but not much else. I might see the movie at some point; however, I don’t plan to keep my copy of this book or to pick up any of Yoon’s future work.
Representation:
• Natasha is an undocumented Jamaican immigrant.
• Daniel is South Korean-American.
CW: racism, mention of cheating, mention of suicide
3.5 stars
I picked Black Enough on a whim for a Year of Epic Reads challenge, and although some stories didn’t click for me, for the most part, I enjoyed this anthology.
Please note that I read this and am reviewing this as a white teen. I cannot comment on the representation in or nuance of these stories. My thoughts and ratings are based on enjoyment and other basic critical aspects.
——
Half a Moon by Renée Watson — 3.5 stars. A good, sweet story, about a girl and her younger half-sister at a girls wilderness camp. It was a bit too short, in my opinion.
Representation: a fat side character
CW: fatphobia
Black Enough by Varian Johnson — 2 stars. I feel that this story was too short to truly be enjoyable. Admittedly, I’m not sure what the point of it was.
CW: mention of police brutality, death
Warning: Color May Fade by Leah Henderson — 4 stars. One of my top five stories. I liked the focus on art and, as the story phrased it, telling your truth. I just wish the end had been a bit more detailed.
Black. Nerd. Problems. by Lamar Giles — 3 stars. While entertaining, the characters in this story felt stereotypical to me. I did like many elements of the ending, though.
Out of the Silence by Kekla Magoon — 3.5 stars. This story was very powerful, and I believe it would’ve had a stronger impact if it had been a bit longer. I also would’ve liked to know the protagonist’s connection to the dead girl, in a bit more detail.
CW: car accident, death
The Ingredients by Jason Reynolds — 2.5 stars. One of my least favorite stories. I appreciated the banter between the boys, but there was no plot.
Oreo by Brandy Colbert — 4 stars. Another story in my top five. I really liked the dynamics of such a large family, and the way Junior’s demeanor changed as the story progressed.
Samson and the Delilahs by Tochi Onyebuchi — 3.5 stars. This story was entertaining, but ultimately nothing special. I liked Desirée and Dominique more than Sobechi, the protagonist. However, the music aspect stood out to me, as I don’t recall any stories I’ve read involving music focusing on metal.
Stop Playing by Liara Tamani — 3 stars. I think Tish and Brandon were better characters than the protagonist, Keri, though I did like the growth of her friendship with Dara. Lucas annoyed me, as did the various clichés used. Also, Brandon deserved better.
Wild Horses, Wild Hearts by Jay Coles — 3.5 stars. I liked the two protagonists and their budding romance, but it would’ve been nice if the horses and horse racing played a slightly bigger part in the story. I also would’ve liked more details about the ending.
Representation: gay protagonist and love interest
CW: racism, homophobia
Whoa! by Rita Williams-Garcia — 2 stars. I think this would have to be my other least favorite story. I didn’t understand it whatsoever, and spent much of my time reading confused. If there was a deeper meaning between the lines, I didn’t catch it.
Representation: queer protagonist
Gravity by Tracey Baptiste — 2.5 stars. My biggest issue was the second person narration. Had it been told in first or third person, I believe it would’ve been more enjoyable and had a bigger impact.
CW: sexual harassment and assault
The Trouble with Drowning by Dhonielle Clayton — 3 stars. Although this story intrigued me, the timeline confused me. It switched between past and present with little indication.
CW: death, self-harm
Kissing Sarah Smart by Justina Ireland — 5 stars. Not only is this one of my top five stories, it’s also one of two that received five stars. Is anyone surprised that I love the sapphic story most? The protagonist and love interest were great, together and separate. Also, the scene with the old lady at the very end made me laugh.
Representation: sapphic protagonist, lesbian love interest, biracial relationship [black girl + white girl]
Hackathon Summers by Coe Booth — 4 stars. I can’t put my finger on why, but I consistently seem to enjoy stories that involve coding. This one was no exception. I liked that the story was told chronologically, from the first summer to the fourth, current summer. My only issue was the ending; if it were different, this might have been a five star story.
Representation: Muslim side character
CW: emotional abuse
Into the Starlight by Nic Stone — 5 stars. Although this story wasn’t what I expected, I honestly believe it was better than what I expected. I liked Makenzie and Kamari as individuals, as well as the implications of where their relationship was headed. To be honest, I also gave this story an additional star because Kamari is an avid Rick Riordan fan.
The (R)Evolution of Nigeria Jones by Ibi Zoboi— 3 stars. I can’t put my finger on why, but I just didn’t care for this story. I don’t know that this was the best story to wrap up the anthology, though that’s likely personal preference. That aside, I wish the end had been more detailed.
Representation: gay side character
——
Although this anthology definitely had its ups and downs, all in all, I enjoyed it. I’m interested in reading more by a few of these authors. However, allow me to end this review by reminding you to take this review with a grain of salt, as I’m white, and urging you to read reviews by black readers.
I picked Black Enough on a whim for a Year of Epic Reads challenge, and although some stories didn’t click for me, for the most part, I enjoyed this anthology.
Please note that I read this and am reviewing this as a white teen. I cannot comment on the representation in or nuance of these stories. My thoughts and ratings are based on enjoyment and other basic critical aspects.
——
Half a Moon by Renée Watson — 3.5 stars. A good, sweet story, about a girl and her younger half-sister at a girls wilderness camp. It was a bit too short, in my opinion.
Representation: a fat side character
CW: fatphobia
Black Enough by Varian Johnson — 2 stars. I feel that this story was too short to truly be enjoyable. Admittedly, I’m not sure what the point of it was.
CW: mention of police brutality, death
Warning: Color May Fade by Leah Henderson — 4 stars. One of my top five stories. I liked the focus on art and, as the story phrased it, telling your truth. I just wish the end had been a bit more detailed.
Black. Nerd. Problems. by Lamar Giles — 3 stars. While entertaining, the characters in this story felt stereotypical to me. I did like many elements of the ending, though.
Out of the Silence by Kekla Magoon — 3.5 stars. This story was very powerful, and I believe it would’ve had a stronger impact if it had been a bit longer. I also would’ve liked to know the protagonist’s connection to the dead girl, in a bit more detail.
CW: car accident, death
The Ingredients by Jason Reynolds — 2.5 stars. One of my least favorite stories. I appreciated the banter between the boys, but there was no plot.
Oreo by Brandy Colbert — 4 stars. Another story in my top five. I really liked the dynamics of such a large family, and the way Junior’s demeanor changed as the story progressed.
Samson and the Delilahs by Tochi Onyebuchi — 3.5 stars. This story was entertaining, but ultimately nothing special. I liked Desirée and Dominique more than Sobechi, the protagonist. However, the music aspect stood out to me, as I don’t recall any stories I’ve read involving music focusing on metal.
Stop Playing by Liara Tamani — 3 stars. I think Tish and Brandon were better characters than the protagonist, Keri, though I did like the growth of her friendship with Dara. Lucas annoyed me, as did the various clichés used. Also, Brandon deserved better.
Wild Horses, Wild Hearts by Jay Coles — 3.5 stars. I liked the two protagonists and their budding romance, but it would’ve been nice if the horses and horse racing played a slightly bigger part in the story. I also would’ve liked more details about the ending.
Representation: gay protagonist and love interest
CW: racism, homophobia
Whoa! by Rita Williams-Garcia — 2 stars. I think this would have to be my other least favorite story. I didn’t understand it whatsoever, and spent much of my time reading confused. If there was a deeper meaning between the lines, I didn’t catch it.
Representation: queer protagonist
Gravity by Tracey Baptiste — 2.5 stars. My biggest issue was the second person narration. Had it been told in first or third person, I believe it would’ve been more enjoyable and had a bigger impact.
CW: sexual harassment and assault
The Trouble with Drowning by Dhonielle Clayton — 3 stars. Although this story intrigued me, the timeline confused me. It switched between past and present with little indication.
CW: death, self-harm
Kissing Sarah Smart by Justina Ireland — 5 stars. Not only is this one of my top five stories, it’s also one of two that received five stars. Is anyone surprised that I love the sapphic story most? The protagonist and love interest were great, together and separate. Also, the scene with the old lady at the very end made me laugh.
Representation: sapphic protagonist, lesbian love interest, biracial relationship [black girl + white girl]
Hackathon Summers by Coe Booth — 4 stars. I can’t put my finger on why, but I consistently seem to enjoy stories that involve coding. This one was no exception. I liked that the story was told chronologically, from the first summer to the fourth, current summer. My only issue was the ending; if it were different, this might have been a five star story.
Representation: Muslim side character
CW: emotional abuse
Into the Starlight by Nic Stone — 5 stars. Although this story wasn’t what I expected, I honestly believe it was better than what I expected. I liked Makenzie and Kamari as individuals, as well as the implications of where their relationship was headed. To be honest, I also gave this story an additional star because Kamari is an avid Rick Riordan fan.
The (R)Evolution of Nigeria Jones by Ibi Zoboi— 3 stars. I can’t put my finger on why, but I just didn’t care for this story. I don’t know that this was the best story to wrap up the anthology, though that’s likely personal preference. That aside, I wish the end had been more detailed.
Representation: gay side character
——
Although this anthology definitely had its ups and downs, all in all, I enjoyed it. I’m interested in reading more by a few of these authors. However, allow me to end this review by reminding you to take this review with a grain of salt, as I’m white, and urging you to read reviews by black readers.
4.5 stars
2017 Liv thoroughly enjoyed Little Monsters, so I went into this novel with high hopes. Not to be outdone, The Cheerleaders was a captivating, intense thriller that hooked me instantly.
Thomas has the unique ability to craft uncanny stories, and I’m here for it. This particular story is told five years after the sudden deaths of five cheerleaders in a small town, narrated by the younger sister of the only girl to die by suicide. It explores adultery, drug and alcohol use by minors, survivors guilt, abortion, and more, without these topics overshadowing the mystery.
Now let’s talk about the mystery itself, because it was freaking brilliant. Of the five girls, Bethany and Colleen died in a car crash with no evident cause, Juliana and Susan were murdered at one’s house, and Jen is rumored to have killed herself. Monica begins digging into the details of her sister’s death as the anniversary draws closer, still refusing to believe her happy, beloved sister took her own life. From there she discovers a stalker and an article that implies things aren’t what they seem, and tries to connect the dots between the deaths. It’s horribly fascinating and I didn’t want to stop reading. As the story progressed, I suspected almost every character for at least a short period of time, and the true culprit was someone I didn’t even imagine was suspicious. It’s at this point that I applaud an author for writing such a mind-boggling mystery, so, props to Thomas.
In relation to my last point, the final approximately fifty pages were an absolute thrill. I decided to read a few chapters while eating breakfast, before I took a break to unpack some boxes I might’ve been procrastinating. That was a mistake, as I ended up sitting for an additional half hour, desperate to discover the culprit and see how the novel concluded — but it was a mistake I’d happily make again, because I wasn’t disappointed.
One element I’ve read in a handful of other novels and tend to appreciate is flashback chapters from other characters’ perspectives. In this case, every so often there’s a chapter set five years prior, just before and right around the time of the murders, narrated by Jen. Thomas handled this balance very well, in my opinion, and though Jen’s chapters weren’t frequent, I feel they added another layer to the story. The switch between Jen in the past and Monica in the present always felt natural, and the former’s usually ended in a way that only increased my curiosity.
Something this novel has in common with Little Monsters is the emphasis on familial relationships. Though Jen’s death made it difficult to understand the true nature of her and Monica’s relationship, I appreciated the presence of the rest of the family. Monica’s mother, stepfather, and younger half-brother played roles of various sizes, but consistent importance. Nine times out of ten, I like familial presence in YA stories because even now it feels rare — this was no exception.
You might be wondering why, after six paragraphs of singing this novel’s praises, I didn’t give it a full five stars. The sole reason for that is our protagonist, Monica; she wasn’t a truly dynamic character. Although her recovery from the events of the summer as the fall semester of school begins did flesh her out somewhat, I don’t believe there were any details to finish the job. She went to school and to dance practice. She made an unexpected friend in the midst of brewing trouble with her two close friends. She did some online investigating and a considerable amount of talking to various characters about various details of the case. But who is Monica? I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to see her grow as the story went on. Instead, if I’m being honest, she felt stagnant; the story developed, but she didn’t. In this aspect alone, the novel was a bit of a letdown.
All in all, despite my issues with character development, The Cheerleaders was an intensely enjoyable, wildly surprising novel. I definitely plan to read Thomas’ debut while waiting for her next release.
CW: suicide, murder, death, statutory rape, sexual assault, substance abuse, abortion
2017 Liv thoroughly enjoyed Little Monsters, so I went into this novel with high hopes. Not to be outdone, The Cheerleaders was a captivating, intense thriller that hooked me instantly.
Thomas has the unique ability to craft uncanny stories, and I’m here for it. This particular story is told five years after the sudden deaths of five cheerleaders in a small town, narrated by the younger sister of the only girl to die by suicide. It explores adultery, drug and alcohol use by minors, survivors guilt, abortion, and more, without these topics overshadowing the mystery.
Now let’s talk about the mystery itself, because it was freaking brilliant. Of the five girls, Bethany and Colleen died in a car crash with no evident cause, Juliana and Susan were murdered at one’s house, and Jen is rumored to have killed herself. Monica begins digging into the details of her sister’s death as the anniversary draws closer, still refusing to believe her happy, beloved sister took her own life. From there she discovers a stalker and an article that implies things aren’t what they seem, and tries to connect the dots between the deaths. It’s horribly fascinating and I didn’t want to stop reading. As the story progressed, I suspected almost every character for at least a short period of time, and the true culprit was someone I didn’t even imagine was suspicious. It’s at this point that I applaud an author for writing such a mind-boggling mystery, so, props to Thomas.
In relation to my last point, the final approximately fifty pages were an absolute thrill. I decided to read a few chapters while eating breakfast, before I took a break to unpack some boxes I might’ve been procrastinating. That was a mistake, as I ended up sitting for an additional half hour, desperate to discover the culprit and see how the novel concluded — but it was a mistake I’d happily make again, because I wasn’t disappointed.
One element I’ve read in a handful of other novels and tend to appreciate is flashback chapters from other characters’ perspectives. In this case, every so often there’s a chapter set five years prior, just before and right around the time of the murders, narrated by Jen. Thomas handled this balance very well, in my opinion, and though Jen’s chapters weren’t frequent, I feel they added another layer to the story. The switch between Jen in the past and Monica in the present always felt natural, and the former’s usually ended in a way that only increased my curiosity.
Something this novel has in common with Little Monsters is the emphasis on familial relationships. Though Jen’s death made it difficult to understand the true nature of her and Monica’s relationship, I appreciated the presence of the rest of the family. Monica’s mother, stepfather, and younger half-brother played roles of various sizes, but consistent importance. Nine times out of ten, I like familial presence in YA stories because even now it feels rare — this was no exception.
You might be wondering why, after six paragraphs of singing this novel’s praises, I didn’t give it a full five stars. The sole reason for that is our protagonist, Monica; she wasn’t a truly dynamic character. Although her recovery from the events of the summer as the fall semester of school begins did flesh her out somewhat, I don’t believe there were any details to finish the job. She went to school and to dance practice. She made an unexpected friend in the midst of brewing trouble with her two close friends. She did some online investigating and a considerable amount of talking to various characters about various details of the case. But who is Monica? I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to see her grow as the story went on. Instead, if I’m being honest, she felt stagnant; the story developed, but she didn’t. In this aspect alone, the novel was a bit of a letdown.
All in all, despite my issues with character development, The Cheerleaders was an intensely enjoyable, wildly surprising novel. I definitely plan to read Thomas’ debut while waiting for her next release.
CW: suicide, murder, death, statutory rape, sexual assault, substance abuse, abortion
3.5 stars
A few times each year, I read a story that, upon finishing, feels impossible to rate. This is one of those stories. Legendary, while certainly a lush and entertaining novel, didn’t steal my heart the way many readers claimed it would.
When I read Caraval in 2017, I gave it four stars; however, I believe that if I reread it instead of unhauling my copy, I would likely give it three. I might’ve had some issues with Legendary, but I feel it was better than its predecessor, at least in some aspects.
Now that that’s out of the way, allow me to say that this novel didn’t feel like a sequel. It felt disconnected from Caraval, as if it was a spin-off set months or years later, even though it begins almost immediately where the first installment left off. The concept of Fates and the Deck of Destiny fascinated me, and made for an intriguing but distant story, magical in ways the first wasn’t and vice versa.
One of my biggest issues is with the love interest, Dante. It honestly felt like he had no personality, like his only talent was brooding. From the start, he came off as such a stereotypical “tall, dark, and handsome” character, the kind many straight people are obsessed with even though it’s not 2011 anymore. Why does Tella love him? Why does anyone love him? What is there to love, other than his abs and tattoos? At one point, in the last quarter of the novel, Tella finds him and is stunned because he’s “so very shirtless”. I think I rolled my eyes for a solid minute. I could go on...
And then there’s Jacks. I don’t have any problems with him; I’m just confused. Since the release of Finale, many people I follow seem to agree that he deserves better. He undoubtedly has more personality than Dante, but I don’t see the appeal of him, either. I’m also curious as to whether or not he and Tella are connected the way she thinks they are.
My other primary issue is with the predictability of the story. Admittedly, there were a couple of details in the final few chapters I didn’t expect. But for the most part, nothing felt as wild as other reviews claimed. Legend’s identity? I saw that coming a mile away. I don’t know how Tella was even surprised. Garber might as well have hung a neon sign around this character’s neck that read “I AM LEGEND”.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I have to give Garber credit, though — this novel was an unexpectedly fun read. Full of magic and mayhem, fireworks and kisses, brutal bargains and a glowing apple or two, it’s easy to be enchanted by the world of Caraval...even if it isn’t just a game. Sometimes a story isn’t the greatest when looked at through a critical lens, but it’s enjoyable if that lens is taken away. In my experience, that’s what Legendary was.
Novels like this tend to leave me tongue-tied (though the fact that it’s now past 1 a.m. might also be a contributor), so I’ll end this here. Despite not being entirely sure what I think of Legendary, I’m curious enough to venture into Finale, hopefully sooner rather than later.
CW: blood
A few times each year, I read a story that, upon finishing, feels impossible to rate. This is one of those stories. Legendary, while certainly a lush and entertaining novel, didn’t steal my heart the way many readers claimed it would.
When I read Caraval in 2017, I gave it four stars; however, I believe that if I reread it instead of unhauling my copy, I would likely give it three. I might’ve had some issues with Legendary, but I feel it was better than its predecessor, at least in some aspects.
Now that that’s out of the way, allow me to say that this novel didn’t feel like a sequel. It felt disconnected from Caraval, as if it was a spin-off set months or years later, even though it begins almost immediately where the first installment left off. The concept of Fates and the Deck of Destiny fascinated me, and made for an intriguing but distant story, magical in ways the first wasn’t and vice versa.
One of my biggest issues is with the love interest, Dante. It honestly felt like he had no personality, like his only talent was brooding. From the start, he came off as such a stereotypical “tall, dark, and handsome” character, the kind many straight people are obsessed with even though it’s not 2011 anymore. Why does Tella love him? Why does anyone love him? What is there to love, other than his abs and tattoos? At one point, in the last quarter of the novel, Tella finds him and is stunned because he’s “so very shirtless”. I think I rolled my eyes for a solid minute. I could go on...
And then there’s Jacks. I don’t have any problems with him; I’m just confused. Since the release of Finale, many people I follow seem to agree that he deserves better. He undoubtedly has more personality than Dante, but I don’t see the appeal of him, either. I’m also curious as to whether or not he and Tella are connected the way she thinks they are.
My other primary issue is with the predictability of the story. Admittedly, there were a couple of details in the final few chapters I didn’t expect. But for the most part, nothing felt as wild as other reviews claimed. Legend’s identity? I saw that coming a mile away. I don’t know how Tella was even surprised. Garber might as well have hung a neon sign around this character’s neck that read “I AM LEGEND”.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I have to give Garber credit, though — this novel was an unexpectedly fun read. Full of magic and mayhem, fireworks and kisses, brutal bargains and a glowing apple or two, it’s easy to be enchanted by the world of Caraval...even if it isn’t just a game. Sometimes a story isn’t the greatest when looked at through a critical lens, but it’s enjoyable if that lens is taken away. In my experience, that’s what Legendary was.
Novels like this tend to leave me tongue-tied (though the fact that it’s now past 1 a.m. might also be a contributor), so I’ll end this here. Despite not being entirely sure what I think of Legendary, I’m curious enough to venture into Finale, hopefully sooner rather than later.
CW: blood
emotional
medium-paced
[second read, April 2019]
I’m lowering my rating from 4.5 stars to 4, but I still enjoyed the book. I don’t read much adult fiction, but this novel has singlehandedly convinced me to seek out more. It’s elegantly written and emotional, with so many topics handled in a brutally honest yet still delicate way.
I stand by my original review in its entirety. However, the reason for my lesser rating this time around is that I don’t feel this novel is suited to rereads. This may be a personal issue, or maybe it’s one I experienced because I read it for the first time only ten months ago. But regardless, no element of this novel had the same effect on me. Remembering even snippets of the plot detracted from the impact the story had.
Despite this, I plan to read more from Reid, and I recommend this to everyone that believes they can handle the content.
Representation:
I’m lowering my rating from 4.5 stars to 4, but I still enjoyed the book. I don’t read much adult fiction, but this novel has singlehandedly convinced me to seek out more. It’s elegantly written and emotional, with so many topics handled in a brutally honest yet still delicate way.
I stand by my original review in its entirety. However, the reason for my lesser rating this time around is that I don’t feel this novel is suited to rereads. This may be a personal issue, or maybe it’s one I experienced because I read it for the first time only ten months ago. But regardless, no element of this novel had the same effect on me. Remembering even snippets of the plot detracted from the impact the story had.
Despite this, I plan to read more from Reid, and I recommend this to everyone that believes they can handle the content.
Representation:
- biracial protagonist
- Cuban bisexual protagonist
- lesbian love interest
- gay side characters
- sapphic main couple
- achillean side couple
[first read, June 2018]
This novel has taken the book community by storm. I’ve yet to see a single person dislike it; everyone seems to love it. I didn’t, but don’t come at me with pitchforks and torches yet please. I did like it. Very much. I closed the book and was legitimately speechless. However, for me, it just wasn’t amazing. Please don’t disown me. (I’m kidding. Sort of.)
I’ve never read anything quite like this novel. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect going in, but it blew my mind. It’s midnight as I write this review, and I stayed up late to finish this. I read this in under a day. It truly hooked me.
As it’s late and I’m starting to get a headache, this review won’t be anything special. I can’t pin down any aspect of this book I disliked. It was unique for sure, very well written, and extremely intriguing. Evelyn is without a doubt the most morally grey and brutally honest character I’ve read that’s not in a fantasy and I liked that about her. Monique has a really interesting character arc, though the majority of the novel is flashbacks of Evelyn’s life; I feel like that speaks of Taylor’s writing style and skill. Harry was so sweet until the end, and I can see why people love him. I can absolutely see it.
I predicted parts of the ending, but not all of them. One thing definitely took me by surprise. However, this novel didn’t break my heart or crush my soul the way I expected it to, based on other gushing, emotional reviews. It was sad, don’t get me wrong, but nothing more, in my opinion. Sorry, my heart of stone is talking again. These things never have the same effect on me. Oops.
I think that’s all I’ve got to say. I thoroughly enjoyed this novel, and I certainly sped through it. Although it wasn’t as spectacular or heart-wrenching as everyone claimed, it left an impact on me. It was definitely a compelling read, and I think I’ll be thinking about it for some time.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Alcoholism, Biphobia, Death, Domestic abuse, Homophobia, Infidelity, Racism, Sexual assault, Sexual content, Suicide, Terminal illness, Abortion
I don’t remember the specifics or severity of any of these things, given how long it’s been since I read the book.
3.5 stars
I finished reading Pride at three o’clock yesterday morning, nearly twenty-four hours ago. Although I was somewhat busy as the day progressed, I was mostly avoiding this review because I truly didn’t know what rating to give. Upon finishing, I believed Pride to be a solid four star read, but as time passed, I began to doubt that rating. A modern take on a classic I, admittedly, haven’t read, this novel was enjoyable, but not without its flaws.
Possibly my favorite part of this story was the protagonist, Zuri. Though she was often judgmental and occasionally switched to flat out cruel, I can’t fault her. She was such a fierce character in every way — her poetry, her relationships, her opinions. And can we talk about how breathtakingly amazing her poems are? If Zoboi wrote a poetry book, I’d read it, to be honest.
One of the other definite positives was the Benitez family dynamic. There were some instances in which Zuri’s sisters seemed especially irritating, but I feel that made them even more realistic. I also loved the vibe of the entire neighborhood; everyone was so familiar with one another, so friendly. I liked their block parties, though there was unfortunately only one in the story. It’s a shame that my apartment complex is full of grumpy old people. The only fun ones here are the cute little dogs.
I read about a third of this novel physically, and listened to the rest while otherwise occupied. I firmly believe that the audiobook is a large part of why I enjoyed the story as much as I did. Elizabeth Acevedo’s narration strengthened Zuri’s narrative, and at the risk of sounding strange, her voice was so pleasant to listen to. Some people are better suited to narrating than others, and in my opinion, Acevedo is one of them. If this is what the With the Fire on High audiobook is like, sign me up.
While Darius and Ainsley were interesting enough characters, my biggest issue with this novel was Darius and Zuri’s romance. A classic case of hate to love, this time around it simply didn’t work for me. They’re neighbors, not required to do anything together, yet kept hanging out. Why would they do that when they clearly despise each other? Additionally, I found the drama in the final ten or so chapters a bit ridiculous. Their story ultimately had a cute ending, but at that point, it would’ve taken a miracle to change my mind.
The saddest part of the ending was unrelated to the Benitez or Darcy families, and it hit hard even though part of me suspected it would happen. That aside, Zoboi wrote an open end, one that, to me, bordered on vague. I would’ve appreciated a few more details, but after some time to reflect, I think Zoboi did that intentionally. The idea of not knowing what comes next but remaining hopeful sends a good message.
All in all, Pride was a quick, fun novel, and although I went in rather clueless, I enjoyed it. Some aspects definitely could be improved, but I’d still recommend this to anyone in a contemporary mood, regardless of whether or not you’ve read Pride and Prejudice. I hope to read more from Zoboi in the coming months.
Representation:
• Zuri and her family are Haitian-Dominican.
• Darius and his family are black.
• As far as I’m aware, all of the side characters are black as well.
CW: death, violence, sexual exploitation (Specifically, an older teen boy takes and shares inappropriate photos of a younger teen girl. Both are side characters. I couldn’t think of a better phrase.)
I finished reading Pride at three o’clock yesterday morning, nearly twenty-four hours ago. Although I was somewhat busy as the day progressed, I was mostly avoiding this review because I truly didn’t know what rating to give. Upon finishing, I believed Pride to be a solid four star read, but as time passed, I began to doubt that rating. A modern take on a classic I, admittedly, haven’t read, this novel was enjoyable, but not without its flaws.
Possibly my favorite part of this story was the protagonist, Zuri. Though she was often judgmental and occasionally switched to flat out cruel, I can’t fault her. She was such a fierce character in every way — her poetry, her relationships, her opinions. And can we talk about how breathtakingly amazing her poems are? If Zoboi wrote a poetry book, I’d read it, to be honest.
One of the other definite positives was the Benitez family dynamic. There were some instances in which Zuri’s sisters seemed especially irritating, but I feel that made them even more realistic. I also loved the vibe of the entire neighborhood; everyone was so familiar with one another, so friendly. I liked their block parties, though there was unfortunately only one in the story. It’s a shame that my apartment complex is full of grumpy old people. The only fun ones here are the cute little dogs.
I read about a third of this novel physically, and listened to the rest while otherwise occupied. I firmly believe that the audiobook is a large part of why I enjoyed the story as much as I did. Elizabeth Acevedo’s narration strengthened Zuri’s narrative, and at the risk of sounding strange, her voice was so pleasant to listen to. Some people are better suited to narrating than others, and in my opinion, Acevedo is one of them. If this is what the With the Fire on High audiobook is like, sign me up.
While Darius and Ainsley were interesting enough characters, my biggest issue with this novel was Darius and Zuri’s romance. A classic case of hate to love, this time around it simply didn’t work for me. They’re neighbors, not required to do anything together, yet kept hanging out. Why would they do that when they clearly despise each other? Additionally, I found the drama in the final ten or so chapters a bit ridiculous. Their story ultimately had a cute ending, but at that point, it would’ve taken a miracle to change my mind.
The saddest part of the ending was unrelated to the Benitez or Darcy families, and it hit hard even though part of me suspected it would happen. That aside, Zoboi wrote an open end, one that, to me, bordered on vague. I would’ve appreciated a few more details, but after some time to reflect, I think Zoboi did that intentionally. The idea of not knowing what comes next but remaining hopeful sends a good message.
All in all, Pride was a quick, fun novel, and although I went in rather clueless, I enjoyed it. Some aspects definitely could be improved, but I’d still recommend this to anyone in a contemporary mood, regardless of whether or not you’ve read Pride and Prejudice. I hope to read more from Zoboi in the coming months.
Representation:
• Zuri and her family are Haitian-Dominican.
• Darius and his family are black.
• As far as I’m aware, all of the side characters are black as well.
CW: death, violence, sexual exploitation (Specifically, an older teen boy takes and shares inappropriate photos of a younger teen girl. Both are side characters. I couldn’t think of a better phrase.)
This is another book I spontaneously grabbed at the library, and the one my internet friends were most adamant that I read. I decided to pick it up sooner rather than later, in honor of Pride Month, and I wasn’t disappointed. Autoboyography is a cute love story between two boys, but it’s also an important, sometimes hard-hitting analysis of how the combination of sexuality and religion impact a person’s life.
From the beginning, I understood the hype. It took less than fifty pages for me to fall in love with the characters and the writing style. This was my introduction to Christina Lauren’s work, and I never would’ve guessed they’re an author duo; they write so seamlessly.
The characters in this novel were impeccably written and developed. Tanner, while admittedly not super dynamic, was inexplicably appealing. His impulsive, charming nature and confidence in being bisexual made him hard to dislike. As for Sebastian, debut author and struggling closeted cinnamon roll, well, there’s not much else to say. His character arc was impressively written and incredibly deep, as he learned to balance being Mormon with being gay, to live life how he wanted. If I’m being completely honest, both boys are absolutely cinnamon rolls and they stole my heart.
I also have to applaud the duo on writing wonderful relationships across the board. Although his younger sister Hailey wasn’t my favorite, Tanner’s family was generally great; his parents and sister were nothing but supportive of his identity. From time to time I did think his parents were a bit cheesy in their declarations of love and support, but the Pride bumper stickers convinced me to let it slide. And then there’s his aunt Emily, a minor character with few scenes, who is sapphic and married and therefore brilliant.
Something that usually excites me in YA is friendship between boys and girls that remains strictly platonic. Though Tanner and Autumn did have a couple of moments, and there was some unrequited love, I appreciated that each was always ready to support the other. They teased, they fought, they persevered. In their relationship, the authors weave in discussions of how significant others and college affect your friendships, respectively. Autumn was the best character in the novel, in my opinion, second only to Sebastian.
Speaking of Sebastian, I want to say outright that he and Tanner are one of the cutest m/m couples I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading about, up there with Danny and Colton from Timekeeper and Monty and Percy from The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue. I’m not going to lie, the fact that Tanner was infatuated at first sight, before even talking to Sebastian, seemed a bit ridiculous. However, seeing them squirm and kiss and experience the entire emotional spectrum as secret boyfriends was gold. The authors skillfully navigated the ups and downs of the situation — though I can’t speak on it beyond that, as I’m not a gay boy or religious in any way — without sugarcoating or turning the narrative into one centered on gay trauma. These cinnamon rolls had some baking problems, but ultimately, they came out okay and got their icing. (I’m not sure if the cinnamon roll comparison makes sense, but I like it and am keeping it.)
My primary reason for knocking a star off of my rating was how mixed my feelings were regarding the second half of the novel. On one hand, I understand that Sebastian was struggling to maintain his relationship with God as he came to terms with his sexuality, and had a lot of internalized homophobia to sort through. On the other, I’m not sure how to feel about the numerous instances in which he insisted he isn’t gay. The first few times it tugged at my heartstrings; after that, I simply raised an eyebrow. Take this with a grain of salt, though, as I’m a lesbian with no religious experience or perspective, so what do I really know here?
Lastly, I want to express my gratitude — the authors made Tanner’s and Sebastian’s struggles worthwhile, by giving them a happy ending. That’s the kind of energy I want during Pride Month, and that’s that on that.
I sped through Autoboyography in approximately eight hours, and I’m so glad I did. It was a heartbreaking yet heartwarming read, a perfect way to start Pride Month. (Even though I’ve already read a book this month.) It’s unlikely that I’ll read more by Christina Lauren, as adult romance isn’t my cup of tea. In the meantime, I’ll be recommending this novel to queer and straight friends alike.
Representation:
• Tanner is Hungarian-Swedish, half-Jewish, and bisexual.
• Sebastian is Mormon and gay.
CW: internalized homophobia, external biphobia
From the beginning, I understood the hype. It took less than fifty pages for me to fall in love with the characters and the writing style. This was my introduction to Christina Lauren’s work, and I never would’ve guessed they’re an author duo; they write so seamlessly.
The characters in this novel were impeccably written and developed. Tanner, while admittedly not super dynamic, was inexplicably appealing. His impulsive, charming nature and confidence in being bisexual made him hard to dislike. As for Sebastian, debut author and struggling closeted cinnamon roll, well, there’s not much else to say. His character arc was impressively written and incredibly deep, as he learned to balance being Mormon with being gay, to live life how he wanted. If I’m being completely honest, both boys are absolutely cinnamon rolls and they stole my heart.
I also have to applaud the duo on writing wonderful relationships across the board. Although his younger sister Hailey wasn’t my favorite, Tanner’s family was generally great; his parents and sister were nothing but supportive of his identity. From time to time I did think his parents were a bit cheesy in their declarations of love and support, but the Pride bumper stickers convinced me to let it slide. And then there’s his aunt Emily, a minor character with few scenes, who is sapphic and married and therefore brilliant.
Something that usually excites me in YA is friendship between boys and girls that remains strictly platonic. Though Tanner and Autumn did have a couple of moments, and there was some unrequited love, I appreciated that each was always ready to support the other. They teased, they fought, they persevered. In their relationship, the authors weave in discussions of how significant others and college affect your friendships, respectively. Autumn was the best character in the novel, in my opinion, second only to Sebastian.
Speaking of Sebastian, I want to say outright that he and Tanner are one of the cutest m/m couples I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading about, up there with Danny and Colton from Timekeeper and Monty and Percy from The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue. I’m not going to lie, the fact that Tanner was infatuated at first sight, before even talking to Sebastian, seemed a bit ridiculous. However, seeing them squirm and kiss and experience the entire emotional spectrum as secret boyfriends was gold. The authors skillfully navigated the ups and downs of the situation — though I can’t speak on it beyond that, as I’m not a gay boy or religious in any way — without sugarcoating or turning the narrative into one centered on gay trauma. These cinnamon rolls had some baking problems, but ultimately, they came out okay and got their icing. (I’m not sure if the cinnamon roll comparison makes sense, but I like it and am keeping it.)
My primary reason for knocking a star off of my rating was how mixed my feelings were regarding the second half of the novel. On one hand, I understand that Sebastian was struggling to maintain his relationship with God as he came to terms with his sexuality, and had a lot of internalized homophobia to sort through. On the other, I’m not sure how to feel about the numerous instances in which he insisted he isn’t gay. The first few times it tugged at my heartstrings; after that, I simply raised an eyebrow. Take this with a grain of salt, though, as I’m a lesbian with no religious experience or perspective, so what do I really know here?
Lastly, I want to express my gratitude — the authors made Tanner’s and Sebastian’s struggles worthwhile, by giving them a happy ending. That’s the kind of energy I want during Pride Month, and that’s that on that.
I sped through Autoboyography in approximately eight hours, and I’m so glad I did. It was a heartbreaking yet heartwarming read, a perfect way to start Pride Month. (Even though I’ve already read a book this month.) It’s unlikely that I’ll read more by Christina Lauren, as adult romance isn’t my cup of tea. In the meantime, I’ll be recommending this novel to queer and straight friends alike.
Representation:
• Tanner is Hungarian-Swedish, half-Jewish, and bisexual.
• Sebastian is Mormon and gay.
CW: internalized homophobia, external biphobia
I’m struggling to write this review, as unfortunately, I didn’t care about Picture Us in the Light.
For me, this was an instance of intriguing premise full of interesting, relevant themes, but poor execution. The story is one of parents sacrificing for their children, secrets, friendship, uncertainty toward the future. It could’ve been humorous, poignant, or any combination of the two. Instead, I felt nothing. I had no attachment to Danny or other characters, and actually preferred his friends Harry and Regina.
My biggest issue is with the queer rep. It’s practically invisible. No labels are ever used, and while that’s fine, there isn’t even an indication. It isn’t made clear until the final pages, when an m/m relationship is subtly hinted at. I definitely think it could’ve been done better.
Another aspect I didn’t enjoy was the ending. I’ve seen other reviews call it bittersweet, a few saying it brought tears to their eyes. I respect that, but personally, it felt dry and incomplete. Even the epilogue didn’t satisfy me, though it’s possible I’m simply being difficult.
All in all, Picture Us in the Light was a sadly mediocre novel. I didn’t hate it, but I can’t think of any elements I truly enjoyed. If this is a novel up your alley, I recommend it and I hope your experience is better than mine. However, I won’t be picking up any past or future novels by Gilbert.
Representation:
• Danny is Chinese and queer.
• Harry is Taiwanese and queer.
• Regina is Taiwanese.
• Danny’s mom has anxiety and panic attacks.
CW: depression, death, grief, suicide, car accident
For me, this was an instance of intriguing premise full of interesting, relevant themes, but poor execution. The story is one of parents sacrificing for their children, secrets, friendship, uncertainty toward the future. It could’ve been humorous, poignant, or any combination of the two. Instead, I felt nothing. I had no attachment to Danny or other characters, and actually preferred his friends Harry and Regina.
My biggest issue is with the queer rep. It’s practically invisible. No labels are ever used, and while that’s fine, there isn’t even an indication. It isn’t made clear until the final pages, when an m/m relationship is subtly hinted at. I definitely think it could’ve been done better.
Another aspect I didn’t enjoy was the ending. I’ve seen other reviews call it bittersweet, a few saying it brought tears to their eyes. I respect that, but personally, it felt dry and incomplete. Even the epilogue didn’t satisfy me, though it’s possible I’m simply being difficult.
All in all, Picture Us in the Light was a sadly mediocre novel. I didn’t hate it, but I can’t think of any elements I truly enjoyed. If this is a novel up your alley, I recommend it and I hope your experience is better than mine. However, I won’t be picking up any past or future novels by Gilbert.
Representation:
• Danny is Chinese and queer.
• Harry is Taiwanese and queer.
• Regina is Taiwanese.
• Danny’s mom has anxiety and panic attacks.
CW: depression, death, grief, suicide, car accident
I’ve yet to hear a bad word regarding this novel, so I was definitely curious going in. An equally hard-hitting and hopeful story, The Weight of Our Sky was unique and enjoyable; however, unfortunately, no elements stood out to me.
This has to be one of the most unique historical fiction novels I’ve ever read. I’m ashamed to say I don’t recall ever learning or even hearing of the 1969 Kuala Lumpur riots, and while I’m aware this is in no way a history book, I found it insightful regardless. Alkaf wrote the complexities of the time into the story — racial tension, mental illness stigmatization — and I believe it worked out quite well.
Melati was a well-developed protagonist, and her development as the story progressed was remarkable. On the outside, she’s your average teen girl that loves the Beatles, but on the inside, anxiety, OCD, and survivor’s guilt are constantly warring with her love for her mother and determination to find her. I appreciated that in the end, she didn’t overcome her mental illness, but instead realized it didn’t define her and found a way to mitigate it in day to day life.
Another aspect I liked was the complete lack of romance in the novel. Though the end does seem to hint at one to come, the plot is dedicated to the riots and the accompanying tension, as well as Melati’s journey to find her mother and accommodate the Djinn in her head. Vincent was a good character as well, but a romantic relationship of any sort simply wouldn’t fit with this sort of story. In this way alone, Alkaf differentiated her novel from many others under the YA umbrella.
However, my issue with this story was simply that I felt no real connection to it. I was curious about the sequence of events in each chapter, but never invested. I have no reason to decrease my rating, but no reason to increase it either. It was unique, a handful of elements did interest me, but I wasn’t attached. This is turning out to be an instance in which my thoughts make sense in my head and cease to do so when expressed, so I’ll stop here.
The Weight of the Sky is worthy of the praise it receives from other readers and bloggers, even if I didn’t love it as fervently as they seem to. It’s an undeniably heavy read, but if you can handle the contents, it’s worth your time. Alkaf packs a lot into a small novel, and I’m curious to see what she’ll do next.
Oh, and May is an adorable little bean. If there’s one thing that could’ve made the ending better, it’s more information about her. How is she? Where did she go? Does she have enough dessert? I must know.
Representation:
• All Asian cast.
• Melati is a Muslim Malaysian girl with anxiety and OCD.
• Malay and Chinese side characters.
CW: violence, gore, death, racism, anxiety, OCD
This has to be one of the most unique historical fiction novels I’ve ever read. I’m ashamed to say I don’t recall ever learning or even hearing of the 1969 Kuala Lumpur riots, and while I’m aware this is in no way a history book, I found it insightful regardless. Alkaf wrote the complexities of the time into the story — racial tension, mental illness stigmatization — and I believe it worked out quite well.
Melati was a well-developed protagonist, and her development as the story progressed was remarkable. On the outside, she’s your average teen girl that loves the Beatles, but on the inside, anxiety, OCD, and survivor’s guilt are constantly warring with her love for her mother and determination to find her. I appreciated that in the end, she didn’t overcome her mental illness, but instead realized it didn’t define her and found a way to mitigate it in day to day life.
Another aspect I liked was the complete lack of romance in the novel. Though the end does seem to hint at one to come, the plot is dedicated to the riots and the accompanying tension, as well as Melati’s journey to find her mother and accommodate the Djinn in her head. Vincent was a good character as well, but a romantic relationship of any sort simply wouldn’t fit with this sort of story. In this way alone, Alkaf differentiated her novel from many others under the YA umbrella.
However, my issue with this story was simply that I felt no real connection to it. I was curious about the sequence of events in each chapter, but never invested. I have no reason to decrease my rating, but no reason to increase it either. It was unique, a handful of elements did interest me, but I wasn’t attached. This is turning out to be an instance in which my thoughts make sense in my head and cease to do so when expressed, so I’ll stop here.
The Weight of the Sky is worthy of the praise it receives from other readers and bloggers, even if I didn’t love it as fervently as they seem to. It’s an undeniably heavy read, but if you can handle the contents, it’s worth your time. Alkaf packs a lot into a small novel, and I’m curious to see what she’ll do next.
Oh, and May is an adorable little bean. If there’s one thing that could’ve made the ending better, it’s more information about her. How is she? Where did she go? Does she have enough dessert? I must know.
Representation:
• All Asian cast.
• Melati is a Muslim Malaysian girl with anxiety and OCD.
• Malay and Chinese side characters.
CW: violence, gore, death, racism, anxiety, OCD