Holy shit. Hell Followed With Us was … beyond. Let’s combine righteous queer rage with a touching found family, a whole lot of body horror, and the reclamation of monstrousness placed upon queerness by religious extremists. 

 

We follow Benji, a trans teenage boy who was raised within a warped Christian terrorist group. They’ve unleashed a deadly virus upon the world called The Flood, and have now turned Benji into a bioweapon, injecting him with a particularly deadly strain called Seraph. He’s slowly transforming into a monstrous being that the Angels hope will wipe out the rest of humanity. 

 

When Benji escapes the cult, he stumbles into a group of survivors, once part of the local LGBTQ+ center for teens. For the first time, he’s accepted and loved and surrounded by people who understand him. He’s got a deadly secret, but his new found family has given him something to fight for. 

 

And Benji NEVER stops fighting. He’s not always optimistic, but he is always fierce. 

 

One of the most riveting concepts of the book is Benji’s inner struggle to be “good”. He’s attempting to understand his place in the world and desperate to do the right thing. 

 

Alongside that is a theme of humanity. When do you stop being human to others? What does it mean to be monstrous? When is that line of humanity crossed? 

 

While this is a young adult book, there is true, graphic, INTENSE horror. Andrew Joseph White has a scary imagination. :) There were so many scenes that were vivid and terrifying (one in particular that has stuck with me is the imagery of the church building as a body - limbs and arteries and blood - alongside actual depictions of body horror). It was all very well done. 

 

But in a peculiarly beautiful sort of way, beneath all this horror and death is a story of queer resilience and love. There’s a lot of focus around found family, around acceptance and joy and getting to be kids together in a world that has forced them to mature rapidly. 

 

There’s a lot of great representation in this book (as already mentioned a trans gay main character, an autistic main character, a huge range of queer characters, etc.). It ALWAYS feels thoughtful and included with care, and never forced. 

 

This book also features several abusive relationships. Again, this topic was handled with sensitivity and insight. 

 

 

Hell Followed With Us is a rage-filled challenge to those who align queerness with monstrousness. It’s a celebration of love and acceptance and identity. It’s a blanket of warmth for queer kids hidden under an unhinged parade of horror. It’s truly excellent. 

 

CW: body horror, death, murder/mass murder, gore, arson, terrorism, transphobia (including dead-naming and misgendering), child abuse, religious abuse, religious bigotry, domestic abusive, abusive relationship, self harm, vomiting 

 

(I buddy read this with Lee @bookswithlee & it was a whole bunch of fun.) 

June 2024 - reread with my book club was even better!!! Not sure I have more to add other than AGGHGHGHGHGHHGHGHG. :)

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"Gideon was experiencing one powerful emotion: being sick of everyone’s shit.”

Gideon the Ninth was a brilliantly imaginative & delightfully witty piece of fantasy. It's weird and it's wonderful. It delivers on its pitch: lesbian space necromancers + creepy haunted science mansion + whodunnit mystery + memes? + a whole lotta snark.

We follow Gideon, a sarcastic young fighter finding her place in a world revolving around necromancy. She's desperate to leave her planet (Ninth House), but each of her escape attempts have been easily managed by Harrow, the current heir and Gideon's biggest nemesis.

Though the two hate each other, they begrudgingly decide to partner up when the Emperor calls to all planets, offering Harrow and fellow leaders the chance to compete for an immortal place at the Emperor's side and unimaginable power. Harrow needs a cavalier (a great swordsperson) - and only Gideon is up to the task.

I was wildly confused for the first chunk of the book; I'm sure I'm not alone here. There's a lot of terminology and a lot of characters and not a whole lot of action. But the delightful weirdness of the world and the snark & heart of Gideon kept me engaged. 

The second half of the book becomes more of a mystery, and that coupled with imaginative battle scenes and twist after twist had me frantically turning the pages. 

Gideon is SUCH a fun narrator. She's snide and immature and will make you roll your eyes in a playful way. Once you begin to process the sheer amount of other characters, there are some side players who really shine as well. 

The "drop you in the deep end of the pool" start was the weakest end of the experience for me; I imagine if I reread it I would have quite a different experience now that I ~get it~.

If you like dark humor and tongue-in-cheek storytelling and lots of different ways to describe skeletons, you'll have a good time with this one. And a bit of heartbreak (sorry). 

CW: death, gore, violence, murder, suicide, child death, cancer, terminal illness, body horror, injury, grief, medical content, abuse, servitude/slavery, confinement, religious bigotry

Babel is a work of genius. Seriously. It’s an unflinching, penetrating, & clever deep dive into language as an oppressive tool; colonialism; racism; the damaging power of academia. 

If you’ve ever had a curiosity for linguistics or spent any amount of time in academic circles, you’ll get the wonder of Babel, the prestigious school of translation situated in trapped-in-time, magical, captivating Oxford.

We follow Robin Swift, an orphaned boy from Canton who has been ‘rescued’ from his home and subsequently raised by Babel professor Richard Lovell. He trains for years in various languages (English, Greek, and Latin), all in preparation to attend the university where he is considered a special asset as a native Cantonese speaker. 

Once Robin comes of age, he begins his studies at Babel and finds friendship in the 3 fellow members of his cohort. However, while he at first views Oxford as utopic, he slowly begins to question his identity and role in the Babel hierarchy. Add in the Hermes Society, a secretive anti-imperialist resistance group, and a slowly simmering rage that goes beyond the limits of non-violent academia may just spark a revolution.

Babel’s main purpose is to produce magical silver bars, which power Britain’s cities and armies and colonial rule. The bars are created from the space in between languages; words from different languages tied together to produce specific effects. They require fluent speakers (as in, dream-in-the-language fluent) in order to work, and can lose their powers as language shifts and adapts, and so students fluent in new-to-Babel languages are prized. 

R.F. Kuang cleverly integrates real history with just this bit of fantastical magic; the bars serve as a rather blunt metaphor for all the goods stolen from around the world (they’re literally snatching up languages), and their services inherently savor the wealthy & those already in power. Magical power as an oppressive, colonialist tool … makes perfect sense. Magic is just another resource to be taken advantage of. Babel is not an alternative history of early 1800s Britain, but rather a very purposeful, active rewriting.

While you may be thinking - well, this sounds pretty damning - it is clear that Kuang has a deep passion and love for academia. As much as this is a challenge to academia and its flaws and oppressive nature, it is also a love letter to Oxford and learning and linguistics. 

And overall, Kuang looks at the themes I’ve mentioned (colonialism, oppression, racism) in a blunt way. She’s a wonderful writer, and purposefully chooses to diffuse nothing, to not make these themes lighter or gentler than reality. 

Kuang’s dialogue around translation is SO interesting. From the opening pages of the novel, little Robin discovers that translation is a form of power (and he was the one holding the cards & choosing how to relay a message). When they start their journey in a Babel classroom, the first thing they discuss is implicit bias in translation – and, as printed on the book cover: “An act of translation is always an act of betrayal.” No two languages exist in a 1:1 ratio (all are built quite differently), and so bias always seeps through, and the person translating must always alter the words in a meaningful way.

Robin is a deeply sympathetic character, and I was fascinated by his journey & character development. He begins as an easily manipulated little boy with a desire to be accepted and included and valued; he rejoices in what he thinks may be a true home. Over time, he slowly sees past the wonder and into the oppressive systems in place. All the little injustices start to stack, and he starts to recognize himself as expendable to those in power. 

Robin’s peers - Ramy & Victoire - were equally fascinating. The uniqueness and individual struggles of the group partnered with their experience of belonging (Robin was occasionally perceived as white - and often not immediately outed as “other” - led to varying levels of experience here) was so well done. The final, white member of their cohort (Letty) was a bit flat and villainously overdone at times, but she often served well as a foil, parroting the racist/colonialist values of those in charge but always presenting herself as a victim and a peer. 

She’s a representation of a very dangerous sort of oppressor; she sees herself as progressive but is incapable of “getting it”; ultimately, she’s obsessed with victimizing herself. She has a deep misunderstanding of individual fortunes vs. systemic oppression, and can’t truly see the perspectives of her friends.

Letty and other antagonists throw the luxuries of Babel in the faces of those suffering under its hierarchy (Robin, Ramy, Victoire). They are “supposed” to be grateful for the privilege to study at Babel, to have stipends and homes and jobs waiting for them post-graduation, but none of them asked for this. They are slowly understanding that academic institutions work hand in hand with the government; they are not separate, not “above” it all; academia is not some precious isolated thing, and their work has REAL HARM. 

Robin is often torn between his righteous anger and his optimism towards Babel; that perhaps there is hope, that he can improve it, that perhaps all those in power there are just ignorant and once they “get it” they’ll want to change. As he comes to term with his identity, he starts to see himself through Babel’s eyes: is he really valued? Or is he expendable; his skills are necessary but he as an individual can just be replaced by another boy snatched from his homeland?

Violent revolution is, well, violent. But inaction .. is also violence. If Robin keeps his head down and follows the rules and works, he is of course contributing to colonial violence and upholding systems of oppression. Not to mention that things aren’t easy at Babel for any of them - they are constantly battling either racism or grotesque fascination from their peers and professors.

 

Finally, Kuang asks a series of questions throughout the novel. Some she answers, and some she leaves to the reader to ponder. Is surviving enough? Can action be taken through academia? Does revolution necessitate violence? Or rather, is violence necessary to create real change?

 

Babel is often harsh. It’s an unforgiving narrative; there’s no happily ever after here. And yet there is reason to leave with a spark - I ended my journey with this book feeling both emotionally devastated and wildly alive. 

A few other frames that didn’t quite fit into this review:

• The narrative voice of the footnotes was fantastic. I looked forward to reading them.

• There’s a moment when the Oxford/Babel students are faced with real action for the first time, and they fumble through it as though playacting - it’s a “clumsy, silly clash of the abstract and the material” that was particularly enjoyable to read.

• A lot of thoughtful talk around code switching / going through distortions in order to be understood to the white folks in charge.

• There’s a beautiful relationship between Robin and Ramy that was so sweet and charming.

CW: death, murder, colonisation, racism & racial slurs, colorism, cultural appropriation, religious bigotry, xenophobia, misogyny, sexism, slavery, child abuse, domestic abuse, blood, bullying, suicidal thoughts, torture, toxic friendship, drug use (opium), war, gun violence

(I received an advance reader copy of this book; this is my honest review. All quotes are taken from this ARC and therefore may change in the final published copy.)

Cozy, charming, & hopeful!

I found Howl's Moving Castle to be incredibly endearing and uplifting. I haven't (yet) seen the movie, but I found the simplicity of the narration leant itself to some vivid imaginings of the castle & characters & settings. 

Sophie is a hoot (I love how she both lives with what is and holds her ground), and it's delightful to watch how she herself changes and also impacts the lives of Howl and Calcifer and Michael.

I feel like this is a story that appeals to all ages - you'll find yourself connecting to different characters and moments during different moments of your life.

It's a lighthearted story, though it does explore some difficult concepts – but due to the whimsy and writing style I felt entirely safe as a reader.

CW: death, murder, death of parent, body horror, confinement, violence, alcohol, war

I went into this already having a fear of the deep ocean ... so I was pretty primed for some horror.

We follow Luke, a man with a whole lot of tragedy in his life - from his abusive mother to his cold & aloof brilliant brother to the disappearance of his young son to his failed marriage. A plague called "The 'Gets" is in full effect; those infected lose all sense of memory and self and the disease is always fatal. When a potential cure is discovered in the deep ocean, a group of scientists are dispatched to the sea floor to harvest the material (ambrosia), Luke's brother among them. When the team loses contact, Luke makes the descent down in an attempt to find out what happened. However, things go disastrously wrong (in an unearthly way).

(The 'Gets was quite interesting as a concept - but ultimately gets dropped pretty quickly. It was just a means to an end to incite Luke's journey into the deep. It's too bad, because I was curious!.)

Many of the descriptions of the body horror were so inventive and disturbing. I could see the scenes come to life before my eyes. It's super gross (that's a compliment, ha). The scary factor was to the extreme and I FELT the claustrophobia; but the ocean elements were barely mentioned after the descent. The characters remain inside a structure, but it theoretically could have been anywhere that was isolated/difficult to escape from. Overall though, I did enjoy Cutter's writing style.

Luke gets a little bit of character development, but many of the other characters are very one dimensional. It's hard to root for them when you don't know much about them. (Except for the doggy. Oh, sweet LB.)

There are a fair amount of continuity errors here, such as ages mixed and matched and dogs changing fur color. I had to flip back and double check a few things, which pulled me out of the immersion.

I also lost the plot a bit in the end, where the rug was pulled out from under us so many times that it almost felt repetitive? It was very cyclical and it felt "stalled" a bit in recurring horrors instead of moving forward plotwise.

Major trigger warnings here for child abuse and animal abuse / death. More than a wee bit gratuitous on both ends if you ask me ... also intense fatphobia regarding flashbacks to the Luke's mother which I could have done without. And the descriptions of women overall were a bit .. well ... hmm.

I've seen a lot of folks complain about the ending. I actually liked it! 

I'm curious to check out The Troop and see what that experience is like.

CW: body horror, death, animal cruelty, animal death, gore, child abuse, blood, confinement, fatphobia, torture, emotional abuse, incest, sexual assault, pedophilia, body shaming, mental illness, panic attacks

 Someone Else’s Life offered up a unique setting and dire circumstances, but left a little to be desired. 

 

We follow Annie, who recently moved to Hawaii with her husband and young son, wanting a fresh start and a chance to leave near her father and sister after her life unraveled. Following the deaths of her mother and her beloved dog, the bankruptcy of her dance business, and a traumatic incident involving her son, Annie shrinks into a shell of her formal, vibrant self. And when a stranger appears on her doorstep during a scarily intense tropical storm, Annie finds an unexpected connection. But - this is a thriller. ;) So naturally, things go quite wrong. 

 

Here’s what worked for me: 

• Super interesting setting and characters. I appreciated the little details that came from the author’s lived experiences - Taiwanese culture and recipes, local spots in Hawaii, and etc. 

• The stakes couldn’t have been higher, and the intensity of the storm was delightfully atmospheric. 

• I appreciated Annie’s journey towards recognizing that getting help and caring for herself mentally is important and not something to feel shame about - and her father’s acceptance of this (though this was devalued a bit by the other mental illness subplot - see below). 

• Doggies! :)  

•

Annie’s empathy towards the “villain” was interesting - I was torn about this - it was kind of a lovely show of compassion, but also seemed a little illogical (I mean, her LIFE and her CHILD’S LIFE were at stake). Also Annie seemed to be a self-insert of the author, so I wondered about if this was a “hey, look how lovely and understanding i would be in this situation?”

 

Here’s what I didn’t love: 

• The writing was a bit juvenile for my tastes. Super simplistic, not very descriptive, and a lot of telling us how to feel or what to take away from the action. There were also a fair amount of grammatical issues, but this is an early-ish proof, so i don’t want to come down too hard on that. 

• It was also quite repetitive - phrases and plot lines were being SCREAMED at us way too many times. It took away from the twists. 

• There was some uncomfortable language surrounding mental illness, and fear of someone being “unstable”/“crazy” or a “psychopath” because of genetics. This was paired with a much better storyline of Annie overcoming her shame around therapy and asking for help, so it was a bummer that some prejudices/problematic language leaked into the writing. This would have benefited greatly from a sensitivity reader. 

• The MC and her friend group were meant to be in their forties, but they spoke very, very young. 

 

My overall impression? This was a quick, fun read. It’s got some interesting slices of life from Hawaii and Taiwanese culture, but it’s a tropey thriller plot with simplistic writing, and I probably wouldn’t rush to recommend it. 

 

CW: murder, child death, death of parent, animal death, alcoholism, cancer, child abuse, gaslighting, grief, homophobia/biphobia, mental illness, stalking, suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, ableism, violence

(I received an advance reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.)

“If a human being closes her eyes hard enough and for long enough, she can remember pretty well everything that has made her happy.”

Britt-Marie is an eccentric 63 year old who has suddenly found herself alone for the first time in, well, all of her adult life. She's left her cheating husband and stumbled her way into the position of a caretaker in Borg's recreation center (soon-to-be defunct).

Underneath Britt-Marie's socially awkward comments, obsession with cleaning products, and slightly brittle exterior is a deep desire to be known by others, to leave a mark on her community. She's been controlled and afraid most of her life - this is her journey of stepping into herself and finding her voice.

In Backman style, we've got a peculiar set of characters that become deeply loveable and easy-to-root for as you get to know them (the children in particular were a real strength). It's a relatively quick, simple story but it packs so much depth and charm.

There were so many splendid, poignant moments of community and connection.

“One morning you wake up with more life behind you than in front of you, not being able to understand how it’s happened.”

CW: grief, death, alcoholism, gun violence, infidelity, child death, toxic relationship, death of a parent, violence, emotional abuse, ableism, fatphobia, mental illness

 The Darkening lives up to its captivating cover art. It’s got a great cast of characters, a clever magic system, and a uniquely terrifying layer of chaos within a living storm. 

 

Our story takes place in a world divided into rings, with the poorest on the outskirts. A living, magical Storm that curses any who touch it threatens the land and has overtaken several of the rings already. We follow teenage Vesper, the daughter of failed revolutionaries who has a strong spirit and desire to save her community. When her father is discovered + captured for his past crimes, Vesper embarks on a journey to infiltrate the royal ring and find a way to save her city. 

 

I found the prose very digestible - I would have absolutely devoured this as a young teenager. It’s simple enough for a young audience to understand, but still incredibly vivid. 

 

The magic of this world is comprised of written ikons; symbols that can be combined and embellished and created by those with a deep knowledge of their building blocks. The integration of magic into the world was so creative and playful; I loved discovering all the nifty ways ikons could be used, whether you’re desperately scratching a symbol into the dirt to save your life or using an incomplete ikon to hide a secret passage or adding a sense of wonder to pastries by using ikons to charm candied decorations to life. 

 

The living Storm was fascinating … a representation of pain and grief and fear, and what happens when you retract into yourself and let rage take over as protection. Everyone who touches or is touched by an element of the Storm is forever changed (cursed) in a way unique to their flaws or secrets. 

 

This is a world of gods, but the only god exacting his power via the current rulers is a dangerous representation of aggressive, toxic masculinity that leaves no room for adaptation. 

 

I found our main character Vesper very likable. She certainly has her flaws, and has a big coming-of-age arc, but she’s determined and witty and clever. I was rooting for her with all my heart & loved her journey of self-discovery and discovering her confidence and power. I also appreciated the complexity of the side characters; they were all so charming in their own ways. 

 

I also enjoyed the elements of political intrigue: what does it mean to be a good ruler (is there such a thing)? We’re witnessing two different perspectives here (Vesper, who lives on the outskirts of society, and the prince in line to become Regia) and they grapple to determine which approach will best serve the needs of their city. 

 

Finally, it’s tough to talk about this without giving too much away, but the backstory of the Storm was delightful. I’m truly looking forward to the sequel (and a bit nervous!). 

 

(And yeah yeah, there’s the start of an enemies to lovers arc if that tickles your fancy.) 

CW: death, child death, death of a parent, animal cruelty, classism, confinement, chronic illness, terminal illness, injury, possession, fire/death by fire, suicide, sexism, misogyny, grief

What a peculiar little book. 

The concept was fantastic; what if the anthropomorphic animals from your favorite classic childhood book were real? But what if their stories weren't quite so sweet - and they were out for murderous revenge?  

The plot was imaginative and I think the author's skill was best utilized during the excerpts of the story within a story (written as epic poetry). Seriously, the poetry was awesome. 

I also enjoyed the characterization of each of the four main animals. I loved the initial playfulness, and the wonder & charm at meeting these literary characters come to life. 

However, the greater content of the book fell flat for me. It was painfully overwritten. Every single sentence was streeeeetched out, unnecessarily so, and it often felt like "fun time with a thesaurus". I love lyrical writing, but I did not find it to be particularly well done or at all justified here. It felt like an attempt at pretentiousness without depth, and it just made my head hurt. (It was hugely ironic that there are two characters within this book who speak in an unbearably academic way - the others poke fun at them.)

I'm sure this is partially because of the writing, but the pacing was very mismatched. The first 100 or so pages were a real drag to get through, and I'm sure many readers gave up before we even got to the juicy action. And even when everything exploded and the horror began, we rushed through some exciting moments and painfully lingered on others. 

My other major gripe was the amount of perfectly timed moments and coincidences. Everyone was saved from death at the last possible second (JUST as the knife was going in, etc.). Characters came back from death (well, the very brink of death I guess) so many times that their final deaths lost their impact on me as a reader.

There were some eloquent quotes & reflections towards the end of the book that gave me pause. Overall, excellent concept with some high quality moments ... but ultimately weakened by the prose.

CW: violence, death, murder, self harm, slavery, animal cruelty, animal death, suicidal thoughts, death of parent, abandonment, confinement