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I, too, would love to have a bestie like Rahul.
Final impressions:
• Friends to friends with benefits to lovers where one friend has been secretly in love with his bestie for seven years. (But don't worry, the pining has always been mutual.
Final impressions:
• Friends to friends with benefits to lovers where one friend has been secretly in love with his bestie for seven years. (But don't worry, the pining has always been mutual.
I personally really enjoyed this book and am eager to dive into the sequel. However, in terms of how confidently I can recommend it to other readers, I can already spot elements that may be controversial or very difficult to stomach.
Final impressions:
• Since this book heavily focuses on the sisterhood (which is essentially an institution that produces mute comfort women for soldiers), I was initially worried that there'd be a lot of gratuitous torture porn. But fortunately, I thought that the portrayal was done carefully and with respect. As mentioned in the author's note, there are no graphic depictions of rape and sexual violence.
• From a bisexual priestess to a nonbinary ex-soldier turned rogue spy, it was so thrilling to see unapologetically queer leads in a sweeping space opera.
• I thought the world-building was very inventive, and I liked how it approached a futuristic, racially diverse society where cultures and languages are decentralized and shared. (Not at all saying that this ought to happen in real life. But it was interesting to read about!)
• The writing in The First Sister is immersive and extremely accessible, which makes it a great starting point for readers who are intimidated by adult sci-fi books. (I've seen criticisms that this book is too YA because its writing is too simplistic - but I personally don't believe that accessibility is a bad thing.)
• While the conflict stems from political unrest and colonial expansion, this book is surprisingly character-focused, especially as the story is told through three viewpoints: First Sister, Lito val Lucius, and Hiro val Akira (my favorite!).
- On one hand, it allows for a lot of introspection and self-examination, which I appreciated.
- But on the other hand, the overarching perspective can get frustratingly limited at times. Especially in addressing the bigger, broader picture.
• As expected, lots of social commentary in this book - but there were untapped opportunities to delve more deeply into the systemic issues, particularly in the institutional apparatuses that enable rape culture, misogyny, oppression, and exploitation of the masses. I think an in-depth exploration was hampered because much of the social commentary was anchored to the individual experiences of the main characters.
• Evidently, the loss of bodily autonomy is the main theme of The First Sister - and throughout the book, we see how this disproportionally affects women, queer folk, and the marginalized.
- In exploring this theme, controversial and potentially triggering decisions were made by the author. As a cis woman, it is not my place to say what nonbinary authors are allowed to write about the nonbinary experience. Notwithstanding my opinion, I can easily see how these writing choices can spark heated debates/discussions and may even be difficult for other readers to stomach.
- As a woman of color, I will say, however, that I have mixed feelings about
- In line with this train of thought, I personally would not recommend this book if you're looking for disability representation, especially since
• Overall, The First Sister is a great debut with fascinating characters, compelling relationships, and a thought-provoking storyline. Although it could have done more with its elements, I remain cautiously optimistic about the second installment. I'm really hoping for some expansion in terms of perspective and storytelling.
Recommended with caution.
[ Trigger/Content warnings: ]
Final impressions:
• Since this book heavily focuses on the sisterhood (which is essentially an institution that produces mute comfort women for soldiers), I was initially worried that there'd be a lot of gratuitous torture porn. But fortunately, I thought that the portrayal was done carefully and with respect. As mentioned in the author's note, there are no graphic depictions of rape and sexual violence.
• From a bisexual priestess to a nonbinary ex-soldier turned rogue spy, it was so thrilling to see unapologetically queer leads in a sweeping space opera.
• I thought the world-building was very inventive, and I liked how it approached a futuristic, racially diverse society where cultures and languages are decentralized and shared. (Not at all saying that this ought to happen in real life. But it was interesting to read about!)
• The writing in The First Sister is immersive and extremely accessible, which makes it a great starting point for readers who are intimidated by adult sci-fi books. (I've seen criticisms that this book is too YA because its writing is too simplistic - but I personally don't believe that accessibility is a bad thing.)
• While the conflict stems from political unrest and colonial expansion, this book is surprisingly character-focused, especially as the story is told through three viewpoints: First Sister, Lito val Lucius, and Hiro val Akira (my favorite!).
- On one hand, it allows for a lot of introspection and self-examination, which I appreciated.
- But on the other hand, the overarching perspective can get frustratingly limited at times. Especially in addressing the bigger, broader picture.
• As expected, lots of social commentary in this book - but there were untapped opportunities to delve more deeply into the systemic issues, particularly in the institutional apparatuses that enable rape culture, misogyny, oppression, and exploitation of the masses. I think an in-depth exploration was hampered because much of the social commentary was anchored to the individual experiences of the main characters.
• Evidently, the loss of bodily autonomy is the main theme of The First Sister - and throughout the book, we see how this disproportionally affects women, queer folk, and the marginalized.
- In exploring this theme, controversial and potentially triggering decisions were made by the author. As a cis woman, it is not my place to say what nonbinary authors are allowed to write about the nonbinary experience. Notwithstanding my opinion, I can easily see how these writing choices can spark heated debates/discussions and may even be difficult for other readers to stomach.
- As a woman of color, I will say, however, that I have mixed feelings about
Spoiler
the racist undertones of a Japanese character's body/appearance being forcefully modified into another Japanese person's body. Yes, it does have "All Asians are interchangeable" vibes - but I think that's part of the point: that even with widely accepted gene manipulation and body modification, discrimination still persists. However, I don't think that the nuances of this can be properly unpacked by a white author.- In line with this train of thought, I personally would not recommend this book if you're looking for disability representation, especially since
Spoiler
First Sister's voice is eventually given back to her.• Overall, The First Sister is a great debut with fascinating characters, compelling relationships, and a thought-provoking storyline. Although it could have done more with its elements, I remain cautiously optimistic about the second installment. I'm really hoping for some expansion in terms of perspective and storytelling.
Recommended with caution.
[ Trigger/Content warnings:
Spoiler
war; violence; death; gender dysphoria; denial of bodily autonomy (prostitution/sex work, forced human experimentation, non-consensual surgery/body modifications); threats of sexual violence; implied sexual abuse, assault, and rape (not graphic); mentions of child abuse; PTSD; racism; untreated mental illnesses; blackmail; torture
I'm planning to reread this as an ebook so that I can highlight passages and annotate until my heart's content. But I definitely, definitely recommend listening to the audiobook first, which is narrated by the author herself.
Final impressions:
• Before anything else, I must commend the author for doing a brilliant job in narrating. Listening to the audiobook felt like a conversation with a close friend who's not one to mince her words. It was a very compelling and engaging experience. (By the way, the audiobook is available on Scribd, and you can use my referral link to get a free trial.)
• Prior to this book, I'd never heard of Trap Feminism. And while this book offers a great introduction into what Trap Feminism entails, it's written very much like a memoir as the author references her personal experiences and knowledge of trap music/culture to navigate the discussion.
- Bowen makes a commendable effort in clearly drawing the line between what Trap Feminism is and what it isn't intended to be.
- To paraphrase the book, Trap Feminism is an avenue for self-determination, specific to Black women and femmes. While it presents a valuable framework for empowerment and self-liberation, it isn't flaunted as the be-all and end-all ideology that can dismantle systemic unfairness and subjugation.
- In line with this, I really appreciated that this book is brimming with a wealth of knowledge, insight, and above all else, self-awareness.
• Unapologetically comfortable in its use of AAVE (rightfully so!), Bad Fat Black Girl is a witty, thoughtfully written nonfiction that explicitly highlights the lived experiences of Black women in America. Particularly Black women born and raised in the hood.
- Being fat, queer, and Black herself, Bowen dauntlessly delves into the plentiful intersections of race, gender, sexuality, and body politics.
- As a former sex worker, Bowen tackles the topic with tongue-in-cheek honesty and self-awareness.
- It's worth noting that there's also a frank discussion on how Black people from the hood are pressured into conforming to what is acceptable or palatable to a white supremacist society. (Even though hood and ghetto cultures are continuously exploited for profit and cultural mileage.)
• The social commentary was, for lack of a better term, provocative. In a sense that it really challenged me to question my understanding of culture, empowerment, and identity.
- As I am neither Black nor American, Bad Fat Black Girl was an eye-opening experience for me. Especially as I reconciled the iron-clad influence of America, including its pop culture, on my country with the anti-Blackness within my own communities.
- On a more personal level, reading this book also prompted me to reevaluate my relationship with my body and sense of self.
- It also low-key reignited my fascination with the field of Gender and Sexuality!
• Bad Fat Black Girl is an excellent book to pick up if you want to challenge your ideas of feminism and/or if you are seeking feminist nonfiction that's intersectional, genuine, and thought-provoking. To sum up my thoughts: Powerful and empowering. A new favorite.
Highest of recommendations!
Final impressions:
• Before anything else, I must commend the author for doing a brilliant job in narrating. Listening to the audiobook felt like a conversation with a close friend who's not one to mince her words. It was a very compelling and engaging experience. (By the way, the audiobook is available on Scribd, and you can use my referral link to get a free trial.)
• Prior to this book, I'd never heard of Trap Feminism. And while this book offers a great introduction into what Trap Feminism entails, it's written very much like a memoir as the author references her personal experiences and knowledge of trap music/culture to navigate the discussion.
- Bowen makes a commendable effort in clearly drawing the line between what Trap Feminism is and what it isn't intended to be.
- To paraphrase the book, Trap Feminism is an avenue for self-determination, specific to Black women and femmes. While it presents a valuable framework for empowerment and self-liberation, it isn't flaunted as the be-all and end-all ideology that can dismantle systemic unfairness and subjugation.
- In line with this, I really appreciated that this book is brimming with a wealth of knowledge, insight, and above all else, self-awareness.
• Unapologetically comfortable in its use of AAVE (rightfully so!), Bad Fat Black Girl is a witty, thoughtfully written nonfiction that explicitly highlights the lived experiences of Black women in America. Particularly Black women born and raised in the hood.
- Being fat, queer, and Black herself, Bowen dauntlessly delves into the plentiful intersections of race, gender, sexuality, and body politics.
- As a former sex worker, Bowen tackles the topic with tongue-in-cheek honesty and self-awareness.
- It's worth noting that there's also a frank discussion on how Black people from the hood are pressured into conforming to what is acceptable or palatable to a white supremacist society. (Even though hood and ghetto cultures are continuously exploited for profit and cultural mileage.)
• The social commentary was, for lack of a better term, provocative. In a sense that it really challenged me to question my understanding of culture, empowerment, and identity.
- As I am neither Black nor American, Bad Fat Black Girl was an eye-opening experience for me. Especially as I reconciled the iron-clad influence of America, including its pop culture, on my country with the anti-Blackness within my own communities.
- On a more personal level, reading this book also prompted me to reevaluate my relationship with my body and sense of self.
- It also low-key reignited my fascination with the field of Gender and Sexuality!
• Bad Fat Black Girl is an excellent book to pick up if you want to challenge your ideas of feminism and/or if you are seeking feminist nonfiction that's intersectional, genuine, and thought-provoking. To sum up my thoughts: Powerful and empowering. A new favorite.
Highest of recommendations!
Xavier deserved better, idc. Galit na galit ako.
Final impressions:
• I think my criticisms would be kinder if I were to evaluate Loveboat Reunion as a contemporary standalone novel rather than a sequel to Loveboat Taipei. Mainly because the latter requires a sense of continuity, which Loveboat Reunion absolutely failed to deliver. (However, I literally reread the first book for the sole purpose of reviewing this as a sequel.)
• My first question is: What happened? As in, what happened to the characters? What happened to the character relationships? What happened to the story's depth? Make it make sense.
- Picking up right where the first book left off (i.e. characters are leaving the glamorous, over-the-top dramatic world of Loveboat and going back into their ordinary lives), it was difficult to miss the staggering discontinuity between the books right away.
- Despite the events in the first book (i.e. Sophie circulating Ever's nude photos not only among their peers but to the schools and dance programs that she applied to), Sophie and Ever are suddenly tight besties again?
- And just... why are all the crucial events in Loveboat Taipei suddenly dismissed without explanation? It felt really cheap and disingenuous to see the characters (except Xavier) walk out of that summer program relatively unscathed.
• The downfall of Loveboat Reunion truly lies in its choice of protagonist. Without any room for argument, Sophie Ha was rightfully positioned as the antagonist of the first book.
- I was never on board with While I was curious to see how the author intended to redeem Sophie's character, practically erasing her actions and allowing her to walk away without consequences was definitely not the route to take.
- In fact, it was quite infuriating that Sophie's key takeaway from what happened was "Oopsie, I guess it's very un-girlboss of me to have been so obsessed with getting a rich boyfriend."
- Speaking of, why is Sophie suddenly a reformed girlboss (or #bossgirl, as used in the book) with a newfound interest in AI and algorithms? What a weird, came-out-of-nowhere development. Especially since she had never even hinted at being interested in STEM. If anything, STEM seemed like a means to an end in her quest to become an ultra-successful millionaire.
- TL;DR: No redemption to be found. And if anything, I hate Sophie even more now.
• Similar to Loveboat Taipei, Xavier is easily the most interesting and most compelling character in this book.
- Forced back to high school, Xavier finally confronts his dyslexia and how it impacts his life, which was marvelous to read about. On top of that, the book shows a deeper, more intimate portrait of the Yeh empire - and the dysfunctional family dynamics that uphold such a legacy.
- My heart was constantly hurting for Xavier and ached to protect him from everything bad in the world.
- Having Xavier as the story's leading man is sincerely the only silver lining that Loveboat Reunion has to offer. Even though it meant having to witness Xavier fall for Sophie for a second time.
• Despite the book's title, the reunion of the Loveboat gang was underwhelming and left a lot to be desired. I was expecting an intimate (but still really fun!) affair - and instead, I got half-baked party planning with invites extended to virtual strangers who shamelessly take advantage of Xavier and his wealth. And of course, all of it is Sophie's fault. By the way,
• A second-chance romance between Xavier and Sophie just does not make a lick of sense at all. The idea was doomed from the moment it was even hinted at. You can quote me on this.
• Fuck Sophie.
Not recommended.
Final impressions:
• I think my criticisms would be kinder if I were to evaluate Loveboat Reunion as a contemporary standalone novel rather than a sequel to Loveboat Taipei. Mainly because the latter requires a sense of continuity, which Loveboat Reunion absolutely failed to deliver. (However, I literally reread the first book for the sole purpose of reviewing this as a sequel.)
• My first question is: What happened? As in, what happened to the characters? What happened to the character relationships? What happened to the story's depth? Make it make sense.
- Picking up right where the first book left off (i.e. characters are leaving the glamorous, over-the-top dramatic world of Loveboat and going back into their ordinary lives), it was difficult to miss the staggering discontinuity between the books right away.
Spoiler
- Despite the events in the first book (i.e. Xavier and Sophie's relationship imploded because Xavier kissed someone else under Sophie's family's roof), we're expected to believe that Xavier and Sophie are not only cordial to each other - but are close friends who confide in one another. And that Xavier still had lingering feelings for her?- Despite the events in the first book (i.e. Sophie circulating Ever's nude photos not only among their peers but to the schools and dance programs that she applied to), Sophie and Ever are suddenly tight besties again?
- And just... why are all the crucial events in Loveboat Taipei suddenly dismissed without explanation? It felt really cheap and disingenuous to see the characters (except Xavier) walk out of that summer program relatively unscathed.
• The downfall of Loveboat Reunion truly lies in its choice of protagonist. Without any room for argument, Sophie Ha was rightfully positioned as the antagonist of the first book.
- I was never on board with
Spoiler
how easily Ever forgave Sophie for leaking her nude photos without consent as an act of revenge - but I chose to somewhat overlook it.- In fact, it was quite infuriating that Sophie's key takeaway from what happened was "Oopsie, I guess it's very un-girlboss of me to have been so obsessed with getting a rich boyfriend."
- Speaking of, why is Sophie suddenly a reformed girlboss (or #bossgirl, as used in the book) with a newfound interest in AI and algorithms? What a weird, came-out-of-nowhere development. Especially since she had never even hinted at being interested in STEM. If anything, STEM seemed like a means to an end in her quest to become an ultra-successful millionaire.
- TL;DR: No redemption to be found. And if anything, I hate Sophie even more now.
• Similar to Loveboat Taipei, Xavier is easily the most interesting and most compelling character in this book.
- Forced back to high school, Xavier finally confronts his dyslexia and how it impacts his life, which was marvelous to read about. On top of that, the book shows a deeper, more intimate portrait of the Yeh empire - and the dysfunctional family dynamics that uphold such a legacy.
- My heart was constantly hurting for Xavier and ached to protect him from everything bad in the world.
- Having Xavier as the story's leading man is sincerely the only silver lining that Loveboat Reunion has to offer. Even though it meant having to witness Xavier fall for Sophie for a second time.
• Despite the book's title, the reunion of the Loveboat gang was underwhelming and left a lot to be desired. I was expecting an intimate (but still really fun!) affair - and instead, I got half-baked party planning with invites extended to virtual strangers who shamelessly take advantage of Xavier and his wealth. And of course, all of it is Sophie's fault. By the way,
Spoiler
can we talk about how Sophie invited near-total strangers to Xavier's private jet without his permission? Or how she planned an extravagant, expensive reunion without consulting Xavier beforehand? Wala na ngang morals, wala pang hiya. Social climber amputa.• A second-chance romance between Xavier and Sophie just does not make a lick of sense at all. The idea was doomed from the moment it was even hinted at. You can quote me on this.
• Fuck Sophie.
Not recommended.
Light, mindless reading that's all entertainment and discourages readers from using brain cells. However, it can potentially be triggering due to the main character being a rape survivor.
“A father is an accountant in a sweater vest who yawns through your dance recitals. A Daddy pulls your hair, fucks you on your hands and knees, then buys you a pretty necklace. There’s a difference. You’re allowed to enjoy it.”
Final impressions:
• Age-gap, daddy/little girl dynamic, forbidden student-teacher relationship.
• While I understand that this is a short novella meant to be consumed uncritically, the pacing was so absurdly fast and weird that it left me feeling dissatisfied.
Not recommended.
A must-read for everyone - particularly those who wish to learn more about dismantling ableism and becoming an advocate for disability. Sitting Pretty is a nuanced, beautifully written memoir that challenges our ideas, perceptions, and assumptions about inclusivity and how we ought to build a more inclusive world to live in.
Final impressions to follow. (Also, can I just say that audiobooks narrated by the authors themselves are unparalleled?)
Final impressions to follow. (Also, can I just say that audiobooks narrated by the authors themselves are unparalleled?)
Abby Jimenez is an author I've been eyeing for the longest time. While I managed my expectations prior to starting this book (especially since romance tends to be hit-or-miss for me), I was pleasantly surprised by how fun and engaging the first few chapters were. However, the story took a drastic turn for the worse when the heavy-handed treatment of ALS came into focus. I was not prepared for (and am still genuinely mortified by) the rampant ableism, trauma porn, and toxic positivity in Life's Too Short.
Vanessa, the main character, self-diagnoses herself with ALS and is convinced that she will die before she's thirty - and this unshakable fear of early death is what propels her to live every moment like it's her last. Although "live each day to its fullest" isn't necessarily a problematic message, the blatant usage of terminal illness and disability as a vehicle to promote the meaningfulness of life is unspeakably uncomfortable and gross. And in line with this, I was sincerely sickened by the way that Adrian, the love interest, was lauded for being in a relationship with a sick/disabled woman because "not everyone would be willing to stick around".
Allow me to end this review with: Life's Too Short is essentially an aged-up, modernized reimagining of The Fault in Our Stars with quirkier writing, heavy-handed trauma dumping, and a quick-fix ending.
Not recommended.
[ trigger/content warnings: ]
Vanessa, the main character, self-diagnoses herself with ALS and is convinced that she will die before she's thirty - and this unshakable fear of early death is what propels her to live every moment like it's her last. Although "live each day to its fullest" isn't necessarily a problematic message, the blatant usage of terminal illness and disability as a vehicle to promote the meaningfulness of life is unspeakably uncomfortable and gross. And in line with this, I was sincerely sickened by the way that Adrian, the love interest, was lauded for being in a relationship with a sick/disabled woman because "not everyone would be willing to stick around".
Allow me to end this review with: Life's Too Short is essentially an aged-up, modernized reimagining of The Fault in Our Stars with quirkier writing, heavy-handed trauma dumping, and a quick-fix ending.
Not recommended.
[ trigger/content warnings:
Spoiler
chronic/terminal illness; symptoms of ALS; mental illnesses (including mentions of OCD, hoarding); substance abuse, addiction, and relapse; child abandonment; parental abandonment issues; depictions of grief and loss of family members; ableism (mostly unchallenged); reflections on impending death; depiction of a panic attack; car accident (not graphic); gun shot (not graphic); infidelity (involving a married party)
This was really moving and beautiful. Full review to follow.
Recommended.
Recommended.
