Seanan McGuire is a master of crafting big narratives out of small, separate stories. That's how the first book of her awesome Ghost Roads series was built, that's how the Velveteen Vs series works, and this is how the story of Fighting Pumpkins is told, too, in this book. Dying with Her Cheer Pants On is a short story collection, jumping back and forth around the timeline, showing snapshots of the monster-fighting cheerleading squad's lives. It doesn't even follow the same version of the team in every story. And yet, through this random encounters with aliens and harvest spirits and other things that go bump under all and any light conditions, a far bigger narrative is formed, one that makes you want to know what happens next and how the characters are going to grow and change.

The concept of this 'verse is basically Buffy the Vampire Slayer turned up to 11. Buffy was one peppy blonde who had to give up a lot of her normal high school experience, including cheerleading, to fight evil. The Fighting Pumpkins, in contrast, take up cheerleading with the same purpose, using their training and pom-poms and school spirit to protect humanity from just about any evil you can imagine—this is an absolute kitchen sink, universe, after all. And that unwavering team spirit brings something very special to the table.

A good handful of the stories in this book were a bit too campy for my taste (which only means that they're going to be a perfect fit for someone who does love campy horror), but even with the weirdest monsters of the week, I always enjoyed that thread of realness that ran through it all. The premise may be out there and sometimes a bit ridiculous, but the characters living through this whacky adventures always feel real. The weirdness matters to them, and they matter to the reader. (To me, at least. I can't speak for all the readers. But seriously, how can you not care for Heather and Marti and Jude and all the rest of them?)

Overall, a very enjoyable read. Piecing together the history of the Fighting Pumpkins from these short stories was fun, and I'd love more of these, please.

I've been meaning to re-read this wonderful story for a while now, and when a conversation in one of my Discord servers reminded me of it yesterday, I just had to crack it open again. Sometimes, your entire TBR can't stand in the way of a good re-read!

Mooncakes has been among my top favorite graphic novels since I first discovered it back when it only existed as a webcomic. I remember getting hooked in a matter of minutes by the wonderful, wondeful artwork, and then each new detail just kept pulling me in further. The characters! The warm family feels! All the casually used magic! The queer reunited-childhood-friends-to-wholesome-romance! There's just so much to love about this story.

I absolutely adore Nova and Tam and their relationship, but it's the secondary characters who truly help this story shine. Nova's friendship with Tatyana is amazing, and all their interactions brought a smile to my face. And I can't put into words how heartwarming everything about Nova's grandmothers is. For once, these two are absolute relationship goals: they've obviously been together forever, and their relationship is still obviously so strong and tender. Second, they're just amazing people—I love how easily they welcome Tam into their home, and how Tam only needs to state their changed pronouns once for both of these women to just start using they/them without a single slip, even when Tam's not around to hear them. Finally, I love how they were actively involved in the whole demon mystery plot from the get-go instead of pouring tea in the background, or warning the younger character against danger, or getting swiftly kidnapped/otherwise indisposed—you know, the way adults in young adult/new adult SFF so often tend to do. At the same time, they offered Nova and Tam plenty of freedom to explore and experiment and be heroes on their own, never overshadowing them with all of their experience, but still always tangibly being there. They all handled that (very interesting and exciting) mystery together, as a family.

Some other things I loved:

the disability rep;
the family holiday and the balance of heartwarming belonging and drama there;
the character growth both Tam and Nova go through over the course of the story;
the artwork. I know I mentioned the artwork at the very beginning, but it's worth mentioning again! It's just so beautiful, and I love how all the characters have their own body shapes, with no "golden standard" to adher to.

I love this story, and I just want to rec it to everyone.






❤️️ 

Finally, I got my hands on this book! It was getting a lot of hype even before it came out, and I basically put it on my TBR the moment I learned of its existence. But there are so many books and so little time, so I've only finally bought it very recently—and Pride Month seemed like the perfect time to delve into it.

I'm sometimes apprehensive about reading books that get a lot of hype. What if I don't like it when everyone around me does? Does that mean there's something wrong with my taste? In this case, there was no cause for anxiety: Cemetery Boys gripped me from the very first page. One of my two favorite things was the setting. All the complex, multi-cultural mythology it's built on, all the spirits—oh, how I liked the spirits here! The descriptions of the cemetery, the church, the aquelarre were all highly engrossing and made the setting come alive in front of my eyes.

The other thing I loved even more was the trans rep. It's very obvious that this is an #ownvoices book: everything Yadriel goes through is so extremely relatable. There was that one episode with the eternal question of "which bathroom to use" that made me chock up a little, even though it absolutely wasn't written as a tearjerker moment, because yes, this. And so many others, too, especially when Yadriel interacted with his family and some of them were clearly so well-meaning, but also so unintentionally hurtful. I loved that Yadriel wasn't the only trans character in the book. I loved that along with his struggles, we also saw him receive wholehearted acceptance and support. I especially loved how easily Julian accepted Yadriel's gender and proceeded to almost aggressively champion him throughout the entire book: "Why do you have to prove anything to anyone? No, there's no way you're the first trans brujo. Yes, you deserve to be accepted for who you are without jumping through hoops." Honestly, I loved Julian, for this and so many other things. For a character who spends most of the book literally dead, he's so vivacious and alive and bright.

One more detail about the trans rep here, an author's choice that I really, really loved: even though Yadriel gets deadnamed several times, we never learn what his deadname is. The fact is mentioned; the name itself never appears on the page. And that, I feel, is the absolute best way to handle this matter. Yes, the character gets deadnamed by others within the setting, but never by the author and, consequently, never by the reader. It doesn't matter what name Yadriel's parents put on his birth certificate when they didn't yet know they had a son, not a daughter. That's not his name. He's Yadriel, and that's the only name he is called in the book, and I'm so grateful for that.

The central supernatural mystery plot was highly compelling, and I admit I didn't see the final twist coming, although in retrospect, there were some clues. I was just so focused on all the other parts of the book that I totally missed them. Which is a good thing, because I was in for a nail-biting surprise. All of the supporting characters were really interesting in their own ways and, for the most part, very well-developed. I do wish some of them got just a little more screentime. Even though Maritza was present in all of the key scenes of the story, I still feel like I didn't get enough of her in some way. I wish we could have spent more time with Julian's friends, too, as well as Rio.

I guess that's the reason I'm giving this book 4.75 stars instead of 5: even though I enjoyed it immensely, there were some small details that made me feel like this story could be told a little bit better, a little bit more fully. The characters thing that I mention above is one such detail. Another is the presence of occasional infodumps that broke the flow of the otherwise very well-crafted story for me. However, all of those didn't really detract from my enjoyment of the book, and I'm looking forward to reading more by Aiden Thomas!

This was a really fun and relaxing summer read, a classic YA romcom, except queer and with a Black lead. Most of the beats in the story will be quite familiar to anyone who has watched their share of high school movies and read their share of YA contemporaries. But hey, do we read these stories for the originalities, or do we read them for the feels? For me, it's definitely the latter, and here, there were feels a-plenty.

I really enjoyed the characters in this one. Liz was a compelling protagonist to follow, and everyone around her brought their own flavor into the story: her family, her rekindled friendship with Jordan, Gabi's mixture of messed-up insecurities and fierce loyalty, and, of course, Mack—she was probably my favorite here, especially in those moments where she started rambling and it was just so relatable. 

Even though the story as a whole is pretty lighthearted and hopeful, there are moments that get pretty serious: the money matters, dealing with a family member's chronic illness, the grief for a dead parent, the effects of divorce on kids. I felt they were very sensitively handled and brought depth to the story.

I won't lie and say this was a super memorable book for me, but I thoroughly enjoyed it and I'm happy I've read it.

This is a really moving short story, focused on a woman who tries to start a new life after the death of her mother—or rather, perhaps it should be said, after the dying of her mother, that long, torturous process sponsored by a terminal illness, the journey with only one possible outcome. The time of grief started long before the burial; the situation that gets one reduced to the role of caretaker, and then when it's all over, what do you even do with your life anymore?

The MC here buys a house that ends up being haunted. But her own ghosts are a lot more vicious than that old lady that lived in the house a while ago, or the child who keeps falling off the stairs every night, or the rotting seagull. The ghosts in your head, after all, are never the ones you can hide from under the blanket.

But ghosts can be exorcised, and that's what this story focuses on. It's not about being haunted—it's about letting go, making peace with the past, building something new in its place. It's sad enough that it made me tear up a couple of times during this very short read, but it's also exceptionally hopeful, and the ending is full of relief and that special freedom of a new beginning.

Imagine the world of superheroes and supervillains, complete with flashy powers and dramatic monologues and bitter rivalries between nemeses—like all those worlds you see on cinema screens and brightly colored comic pages. Zero in closer on the people below the masks, their convoluted histories and dark pasts and numerous flaws. Go past that and zero in closer still: on the people around them, the ones working with them and for them, the one affected by their grandiose actions, caught in the fallout, left to pick up the shambles of their lives, left to learn to leave with the consequences that weren't of their own making. That's what this book does, and it does it brilliantly. It likens living in a superhero universe to living in a world of constant disasters, and it interrogates the costs and the tribulations of those, the darker side of familiar tropes; but also the way people are in general affected by the big decisions made by big players who have all those great goals in mind. There's a lot here that reflects certain patterns in the real world, that gives one a lot to think about.

I loved Anna, the way she hardened herself and turned her pain into power. How despite some of the enhancements she got along the way, her real superpower staunchly stayed in the realm of having a great analytical mind and being awesome with spreadsheets. I loved the entire flawed, colorful cast, and the plot with all of its twists and reveals, and the way everyone constantly stands on the moral horizon and has all those good reasons for doing bad things. I loved the unpretentious, honest debate about good and evil, righteousness and villainry, that I found in these pages. In essence, this story explores the very familiar statement: "With great power come reat consequences." 

Except it doesn't focus on the power. It focuses on the consequences, and of those who have to bear them, and on what becomes of them.

Some other things I loved, in no particular rambly order: 

 I don't rule out the possibility that this book had flaws. But in that case, I loved it too much to notice them. 

The first book in this duology, Crier's War, was one of the stories that officially saved my sanity in 2020. I fortunately don't need as much sanity saving now, but if I did, this sequel would be very much up to the task.

This is my weird of saying that I absolutely, absolutely loved this book, and my one regret is that it eventually had to come to an end. It's going to stick with me for a very long time. This book has it all: worldbuilding that's as intricate as the Automae hearts, a twisty plot, the gorgeous vivid prose, and, of course, the wonderful, wonderful characters. My love for both Crier and Ayla kept growing as I read, and there were so many side characters who all had their distinct personalities, goals, flaws, relationships, who all felt completely alive on the page. There's a tiny scene, for example, close to the end of the book. It's a reunion between two side characters. It's less than half a page. And the amount of pure emotion there, of how that one beat pulled me in and made me care and very nearly tear up, is incredible. Nina Varela is truly a masterful storyteller.

I also felt that this book isn't just a great book; it's a great sequel. I read a lot, and I often go through series with big gaps of time between books. I expect to be a little confused at the beginning of yet another sequel. My memory of certain details may be murky. I may be confusing some details with something from another book that had a somewhat similar plot. I expect to need to pause and look stuff up. At the same time, I really hate it when at the beginning of a book, the protagonist drops everything to think in detail about the entire plot of all previous installments in that vaguely "As you know, Bob" fashion.

With Iron Heart, I never needed to look anything up. The important details from the previous book came up organically and naturally, when they were needed; there was always just enough reminder given to jolt my memory. I think what was happening there was that the writing appealed to my emotions rather than to my rational memory of facts and names and other minutiae. I'm a highly emotional person; feelings are my main method of perceiving the world. So when the author basically created an emotional snapshot identical to what I needed to recall from book 1 and slipped in a few details, that was enough to make me feel that I read the previous book yesterday, not over a year ago. This is a super interesting effect, and I want to be subjected to it more often.

There's a lot I want to say about the story itself, all of its turns and twists and reveals and intersection, but I'm afraid that would mean plenty of spoilers. So I'll just focus on the least spoilery detail possible: the beginning. I absolutely loved how in the beginning both leads not only found themselves adapting to very new circumstances; they also, in a way, found themselves adapting to certain aspects of each other's lifestyles while being physically very much apart. Ayla found herself in a palace with handmaids fussing over her, attending the Queen's parties and having lessons with an Automae. Crier was lost and alone, posing as a human handmaiden as much as she could, taking up with a group of human rebels for a while. It felt like their time apart indirectly helped them get closer as each of them got immersed into some of the things that shaped the other. And then, of course, their paths intersected again, and oh my god, there was so much there I want to scream about. So many little moments, all of them spoilers, all of them so good, so varied, so full of all kinds of feeling. 

Last but not least, I want to gush about how queer-positive and queer-normal the setting is. There are plenty of queer characters and queer relationships happening all around. The tales and songs are full of mentions of queer love. No one ever bats an eye on people (or Automae) being queer. It's just so beautifully normal. At the same time, there were, I felt, a couple of moments when the prospect of romance between an Automae and a human was used as a metaphor of sorts for the real life queer experience; for figuring yourself out, for struggling with these feelings they tell you you're not supposed to have, for gradually coming to the realization that there are others like you, that you're not alone, that you're okay, that you can be yourself. It felt like having the best of both worlds: seeing queer people being completely normalized and just leading exciting lives while being queer, but also having those relatable moments recognizing our own experiences from living in the far less LGBTQ-friendly real world.

Sometimes, we all need stories where it's all about sunlight and flowers and potentially dramatic situations quickly turning into happy chances. This is one such book, and it's wonderful.  I think it's the most optimistic, smile-inducing ghost story I've ever encountered. The characters are wonderful, the artwork is gentle and stunning, and the romance is so cute and so well-done. Even though the story is pretty short, you can really feel all the staples of a good friends-to-lovers love story as the mutual pining builds up to a kiss in the sun. I did feel the story was a bit rushed, especially in the second half, but it didn't take away from my enjoyment. 

This story is supposed to be set in the 1990s; for some reason, it felt like something from at least a decade earlier for me, apart from the bits that felt all too modern. In a way, this anachronistic vibe actually works well for the subject matter. But it also creates a weird feeling of detachment.

Overall, though, I really liked it. I feel like it captures teenagehood well: that special period where everything is beautiful and tragic, where big revelations happen in a matter of moments and connections that feel like they have already lasted for eternity form even faster. The time of sleepless nights and those special songs on the radio and the smell of smoke in the air. The time when you know you're going to live forever; when you know you can disappear any moment.

When I was a teen—when I was lost and confused and vaguely in love—I used to feel like the person who was most precious to me back then and I went to sleep every night on the opposite ends of our city, holding hands. These two characters' connection born out of listening to the same radio station reminded me of that. It's a good memory. 

I absolutely love Aliette de Bodard's Servant of the Underworld series, as well as some of her shorter sci-fi works, but I could never get into the Dominion of the Fallen. No matter how everyone around me gushed about that series, how interesting it looked, how it promised all the things I normally adore—I opened the first book a few times, I got through a couple dozen of pages, I got bored. Rinse, repeat.

Well, I guess now I just need to give that series another chance, because this little novella I've just read was simply delightful—and I imagine I would have loved it even more if I were better acquainted with the characters. I definitely want to get better acquainted with them now. Especially Asmodeus. 

Overall, even if I felt lost now and then about some of the setting details, I really enjoyed the story: the mystery, the claustrophobic splendor of court intrigue, the queer married couple being passionate and romantic with each other (I always want more romance about established relationships; I swear love doesn't fade away into the background once you're past that early "will we or won't we" period!). I just wish it was a tiny bit longer, to better deliver on the promise of this novella being able to stand on its own.