This book is infuriating, in the best way, of course.

I think the novel can be easily divided into three sections: Erich, Edith, and Theo. I'll discuss it that way to avoid spoilers.

In the first section of the novel, narrated by Erich, a former Nazi soldier, we first get a taste for the genius of our protagonist, Maurice, despite his lack of imagination when it comes to his chosen profession in writing. This section of the book will pose some very weighty moral questions. Can someone who has committed unspeakable evil be anything less than evil? Can everyone be redeemed? Is suffering or a lack of connection to humanity, a lonely life, enough to serve as redemption or as punishment for wrongs committed against others? The book won't ask you these questions directly of course, but they are designed to float just at the edge of your consciousness as you read. In this section I thought that perhaps Boyne was falling on the sadness of the story to sound profound, which is rather an easy trap to fall into and he has done it before.

In the second section of the novel, narrated by Edith, the author will subtly challenge the perceptions we automatically make of characters by eventually describing Edith in ways that most readers will not have assumed her to be. I think this is masterful and wish this idea had actually been explored (something similar to what happens for the reader in Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda) instead of simply dropped into the story. Perhaps it wasn't intentional, but I doubt Boyne does anything unintentionally. This is the most infuriating part of the book for me, which of course only pushed me to read more voraciously so as to know the ending.

The third section, narrated by the protagonist Maurice, but principally about his interactions with a young writer named Theo is both the most satisfying and the most frustrating section of the novel. This is where the audiobook truly shines and the reason why I'd actually recommend audio over print for this story.

Each narrator has their own voice. Erich sounds like he comes from an Edwardian novel. Edith feels much more contemporary, almost like a less-lovestruck Danielle Steel. And finally, Maurice narrates in a way that could fit in with the way your father might speak with his work friends - colloquial, but a bit detached. This is the genius of Boyne's writing. Each character has a voice of their own and it feels as if the story is told by them, not something written in some book by some author.

I'm looking forward to reading more by this author - I hope eventually he'll publish a fiction piece about a gay man that isn't stuck in the hopelessness of early 20th century gay literature. This was definitely a step along that path, even if it wasn't the particular direction I was personally hoping for.

This book is powerful and I believe Speak (either in novel or graphic novel form) is something almost all students should read.

Speak is the story of Melinda, a ninth grader who went through something terrible over the summer. She's chosen to retreat into herself and remain silent about what happened to her. She's lost friends and is now the school pariah. Her parents notice something is wrong, but mostly they only contribute to the problem because they have no idea how to face their own problems. Her teachers are mostly clueless and her former friends are so distanced they don't have a clue.

The original novel version of Speak was published in the 1990s, before cellphones and social media, so it was nice to see the graphic version update the story just a little bit for today's teenage audience. The essence of the story is not changed. Its powerful.

I do wish the ending of this graphic novel focused just a bit more on the idea of pruning the tree outside Melinda's yard and what that symbolized for Melinda's journey. That's one aspect where the original novel is better. I also wish the connection to Maya Angelou had been explored because if Melinda realized who she was and how she spoke up, it would have been more powerful in the story. Other than that, I think the graphic novel version of this story is true to the heart of the original novel and a powerful conversation starter. We all have so much to say and we deserve someone to listen.

I received an advanced reader's copy of this book about a year ago from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. And I got into a wreck and the pandemic happened.

But I've finally read it and it is FANTASTIC.

I'm impressed by the quality of the writing and of a solid plot that builds off of small objects that Muir carries with her from foster placement to foster placement - placement, never home. All in all, Muir has been in 20 foster placements from birth to 17 years old. Her case worker challenges Muir to stay in one place her entire senior year because "colleges love a solid senior year". Not that Muir will be going to college of course, but she loves her case worker, so she agrees to try.

Pushed out of Seattle by a lack of housing placements for teenagers, Muir is sent to a small island community off the coast of Washington State, to a woman who will retire from fostering after Muir graduates high school. This is Muir's last placement before she ages out of the foster care system, before she is on her own in the wider world of jobs, rent, insurance, and survival - all on her own.

All her life Muir has tried to avoid attachments and pack light so that she can go anytime. She can depend only on herself. But is she kidding herself? Hidden shamefully in her suitcase under her three pairs of shoes and one week's worth of outfits is a pillowcase stuffed with mementos Muir carries with her from each placement.

This is such a heartfelt book and it mixes themes of family with the history of Japanese internment, standing up for friends, and finding just who you are.

I can't recommend it highly enough for anyone interested in contemporary YA or about foster care.

Young fans of Gone Girl will enjoy this one.

The book has a really long build up for what I thought was not so much payoff. I felt like all the mystery was crammed in the last 50 pages instead of spread across the book.

Beautiful.

I love that this book was about a teacher. It was the perfect read for this pandemic when I needed to read bout a "normal" school.

The characters are all lovely and I cared about the main character the most. I want her to be my coworker.

Steeped in Cherokee lore, this book had great potential. It successfully lives up to some of that potential.

The book focuses on three members of the same family, Maria (the mother), Sonja (the daughter), and Edgar (the son). Fifteen years before the events of this story, Maria's middle child, Ray-Ray, was killed by a police officer for a crime he did not commit. There was no trial for his murderer and the family fell into grief in their own separate ways. Maria suffers internally, trying her best to hold things together, remembering everything, wanting to forgive and yet not being able to - the way most of us react to grief. Sonja won't let herself settle. She frequently starts new relationships with younger men, relationships she knows won't last. Edgar falls into a drug habit that sabotages his relationship with his family and his girlfriend. Ernest, Maria's husband and the children's' father, is slowly succumbing to Alzheimer's.

The story begins when a foster child comes to Maria and Ernest for a temporary placement. They are the only Cherokee family who can take in this boy. But the boy reminds Maria and Ernest so much of Ray-Ray. He revitalizes the older couple and brings joy back into their lives.

Sonja begins a relationship with a man who has a young son, named Luka. This boy too reminds her of of her brother.

The crux of the novel focuses on Edgar. He was so young when Ray-Ray died. He barely remembers his brother, but he grew up chasing Ray-Ray's shadow nonetheless. He is absent from his family's collective life and the major question of the novel becomes, "What happened to Edgar?"

Each family member encounters Ray-Ray's spirit and the spirits of their ancestors in some way. This is the most beautiful part of the novel and it was very well done.

I wish the book would have given some more exploration to Sonja's story and to Ray-Ray's actual death. A young, unarmed, non-white boy shot by police is a timely story. I wish we could have explored that event at least a little bit more and how it tied in with the half-explored theme of forgiveness.

Overall, this was a good book. I didn't love it. I certainly didn't hate it. I look forward to what this author publishes in the future.

This book was okay.

The premise was amazing. A Romeo and Juliet retelling in Shanghai? Yes! The Roaring 20s? Absolutely!

But I wouldn't have known this book was set in the 1920s if I didn't already know about the Communists in Russia and in China and if Juliette hadn't mentioned her "signature finger waves" in her hair 500 times. This book doesn't really describe the world around Juliette. It just plops you into it. Usually that's a fun way to get to the action, but there are things readers need to understand about this world to really feel the tension. I doubt Gong's intended YA audience is made of high school history teachers with the necessary background.

I also didn't understand the need for the "monster". There's plenty of intrigue without the unexplained magical realism. Perhaps I just don't get magical realism because I rarely find a book in the genre that's more than just okay to me. I also found the cliffhanger ending to be more of the same as the rest of the book. It didn't grab me.

But the biggest issue for me was that this is a Romeo and Juliet retelling. Where's the chemistry? I love the history that the author writes for these two characters, but my goodness, Roma needs to be fleshed out more. These two spent most of the book apart. But that' didn't build tension or longing the way I had hoped it would.

Maybe this was a case of wrong reader for the book or wrong book for the reader. It's not a bad book, so if you think 1920s Shanghai with opposing gangs and a Romeo and Juliet retelling would interest you, give this book a shot. You might love it.

People Like Her is a slow build thriller about an “instamum” influencer who makes a living for her family by crafting the most carefully curated collection of photos and anecdotes about motherhood. This means Emmy exaggerates some stories and truncates others. All photos are poised and posed. She tells other mothers only what they want to hear. With over a million followers, she’s become quite the success. But what will it take to keep that level of success? And who is watching?

The story starts slowly. There’s a lot of background and buildup, but it works well. It’s not uninteresting and it is mostly necessary in the end. No one is really who they seem to be, online or not.

As a history teacher, I've heard of Sarah Grimke, and I teach vaguely her accomplishments in the abolitionist and women's rights movements, but only in the barest details. I read to students the quote about men kindly removing their feet from the necks of women.

But that's all I knew.

This book is a lovely work of historical fiction based off of the interconnected lives of two sets of sisters; one privileged and slaveholding and white, the other oppressed and enslaved and black. Sarah and Angelina Grimke will give up a good deal of their privilege and much more in the pursuit of racial equality (not merely abolition of slavery) and for women's rights. But the story isn't nearly as much about them as it is about their mother's slaves, Handful and Sky.

On her eleventh birthday, Sarah was gifted a slave named Hetty to be her waiting maid. Not much is known about her historically other than that Sarah taught her to read and they were both punished gravely as a result. Kidd has taken the real character of the largely unknown Hetty and given her life, voice, and a name of her own as Handful.

This story of four courageous women who all face loss and tough choices will inspire you to learn more about the real Grimke sisters as well as about Harriet Powers (upon whom Handful's mother is based).

As far as storytelling goes, this book is nearly excellent. Handful's chapters are solid five star reads. Some of Sarah's chapters are poignant, but others fall rather flat, and I didn't have quite the emotional connection with her in the last half of the book as I did with the first. I felt events were perhaps told more than they were shown to us as readers. There was a massive potential for emotion in some of Sarah's later events in this book, but their potential wasn't fully explored.

Overall, I recommend anyone interested in equal rights movements or the agency of the oppressed as human beings should read this book. Anyone who loves historical fiction will find this to be an engrossing read.

I enjoyed this one.

The Bad Muslim Discount is about the intersecting lives of two immigrants, one from Pakistan and one from Iraq who live in an apartment complex ran by a man who gives good Muslims a discount on their rent. But neither Anvar nor Safwa are good Muslims. Each has acted selfishly, each has compromised their morality to get what they want in life. Anvar has never been particularly religious and for Safwa, the way others express their religion to her has caused her great pain. They both try to be good enough people, for whatever that's worth.

Anvar's family was able to immigrate legally to the United States, and so many opportunities were available to him. He was able to go to college and get a good degree. Safwa was not so fortunate and her opportunities are severely limited, both by her circumstances and her choices. Still, she'll steal whatever independence she can, no matter what the risk.

The opening chapters of Anvar's story were very interesting to me. I liked the dynamic between Anvar and his brother and although this is explored throughout the story, I wish it had been a bit more resolved. There was great potential for emotion there and it didn't quite pan out. Safwa's story is more difficult to read. I like that it explores America's culpability in radicalizing terrorists who happen to be Muslim. Some parts of Safwa's story feel a bit more stereotypical and this is not typical female Muslim representation, even though Safwa is a strong character despite her circumstances.

This book also lightly touches on 2016 election issues and the way it affects Anvar and Safwa's community. It doesn't shy away from xenophobic nationalism or our culpability in allowing that thought process to rise to the nation's highest office. This brief unflinching look at politics and the real affect it has on people may offend some Republican readers, though I don't imagine that's the target audience anyway...

Overall I enjoyed the mostly irreverent tone of this book, Anwar's often inappropriate humor, and the relationship between Zuha, Anvar's former secret girlfriend, and Safwa. The family dynamics are complex, the myriad of ways in which people practice (or don't practice) what they believe are superbly illustrated. I greatly enjoyed this book and I'm glad I picked it as a Book of the Month add-on.