Category: Book Review Tuesday

Posted in Book Review Tuesday, Mini Reviews

Book Review Tuesday (3/28/23) – #TransRightsReadathon mini reviews

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

As some of you may know, last week (March 20-27) was when the #TransRightsReadathon was hosted in response to a dangerous increase in anti-trans legislation across the U.S. Created by Simi Kern, the goal of the readathon was to give the spotlight to as many trans books and authors as possible to bring them awareness and support in light of the rampant transphobia across the country and beyond. It’s been frightening and heartbreaking to see what’s happening in other states, and I want to support my trans siblings in any way possible. So I’ve decided to include shorter reviews of all of the trans books I read this week—all of which were good!

PLACES TO DONATE (U.S.):

Enjoy this week’s mini reviews!

A Million Quiet Revolutions – Robin Gow

summary from Goodreads:

For as long as they can remember, Aaron and Oliver have only ever had each other. In a small town with few queer teenagers, let alone young trans men, they’ve shared milestones like coming out as trans, buying the right binders–and falling for each other.

But just as their relationship has started to blossom, Aaron moves away. Feeling adrift, separated from the one person who understands them, they seek solace in digging deep into the annals of America’s past. When they discover the story of two Revolutionary War soldiers who they believe to have been trans man in love, they’re inspired to pay tribute to these soldiers by adopting their names–Aaron and Oliver. As they learn, they delve further into unwritten queer stories, and they discover the transformative power of reclaiming one’s place in history.

TW/CW: transphobia, dysphoria, misgendering/deadnaming, homophobia, off-page sexual assault, religious bigotry

Novels in verse always get me when they’re done well, and A Million Quiet Revolutions was no exception. The story of Aaron and Oliver is one that was essential to be told, and it resulted in a beautifully poignant piece of verse!

The growing relationship between Oliver and Aaron felt so genuine, and the combination of pseudo-epistolary format (oh god, that sounded pretentious…) with verse emphasized the way that their relationship transcended barriers of both place and time. The interweaving of the past with the present gave me an insight into a queer part of history that I’m almost embarrassed that I didn’t consider until reading this—better late than never, I suppose. Their voices both leapt off the page, and the easy flow of Gow’s verse made the reading experience feel effortless, drifting like wind—good poetry, to me, doesn’t quite feel like poetry; the rhythm remains, but it doesn’t feel like going line by line in such a rote way.

Above all, the message of this novel in verse is one that’s so important, especially in a time where the narrative of LGBTQ+ people being trendy and new is being pushed so often—queer people have always been here, and we will always be here. Aaron and Oliver’s journey of researching their trans namesakes—cross-dressing soldiers in the Revolutionary War—was one that’s so necessary for understanding our own roots. The key to belonging is realizing that you have always been a part of history, no matter how many pains historians have taken to ignore or deliberately erase the queerness and transness that has always been there. For me, that’s why A Million Quiet Revolutions is such an important read.

Brimming with history and rich verse, A Million Quiet Revolutions is an ode to discovering your own roots, and finding solace in hidden histories. 4 stars!

💙💗🤍💗💙

The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester – Maya MacGregor

summary from Goodreads:

In this queer contemporary YA mystery, a nonbinary teen with autism realizes they must not only solve a 30-year-old mystery but also face the demons lurking in their past in order to live a satisfying life.

Sam Sylvester’s not overly optimistic about their recent move to the small town of Astoria, Oregon after a traumatic experience in their last home in the rural Midwest.

Yet Sam’s life seems to be on the upswing after meeting several new friends and a potential love interest in Shep, the pretty neighbor. However, Sam can’t seem to let go of what might have been, and is drawn to investigate the death of a teenage boy in 1980s Astoria. Sam’s convinced he was murdered–especially since Sam’s investigation seems to resurrect some ghosts in the town.

Threatening notes and figures hidden in shadows begin to disrupt Sam’s life. Yet Sam continues to search for the truth. When Sam discovers that they may be closer to a killer than previously known, Sam has a difficult decision to make. Would they risk their new life for a half-lived one?

TW/CW: transphobia, ableism, self-harm, homophobia, biphobia, misgendering, anaphylactic shock, hate crimes (past), murder

…why does Goodreads still list the title wrong 😭

My ultimate hope was that this book would be as well-crafted as its cover, and for the most part, it lived up to my expectations! The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester deftly toes the line between a coming-of-age story and a decades-old mystery, buoyed by a diverse and lovable cast.

Sam Sylvester has a batch some of the most diverse representation I’ve seen in a realistic fiction/mystery novel in a while—aside from having a nonbinary, asexual, and Autistic protagonist (more neurodivergent protagonists, please!!), there were so many different characters that were incredibly intersectional—queer, POC, and disabled characters all across the board, and not just the teen characters too! All of these identities were woven so well into the story, and I loved the journey of self-acceptance and reckoning that Sam experiences throughout the novel as they unravel the mystery of the boy who died in their room 30 years ago.

That being said, although I liked most every aspect of this novel, this really feels like a novel that’s going to date itself. I enjoyed a handful of the references (always extra points for David Bowie), but a lot of the more recent ones—the references to Tumblr, Gen Z slang, internet culture, and a Steven Universe gag every other page, read as very hackneyed and stilted. As authentic as the rest of Sam Sylvester was, those parts dragged down what would have otherwise been powerful and realistic dialogue. Most of the writing did its job and did it well, but the attempt to ground it in the present day only ended up making a novel that’s going to date itself far quicker than it was probably intended to.

Despite that, I’d say that Sam Sylvester is still a must-read—for the excellent representation, for the mystery, and for the coming-of-age story. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!

💙💗🤍💗💙

The Thirty Names of Night, Zeyn Joukhadar

summary from Goodreads:

The author of the “vivid and urgent…important and timely” (The New York Times BookReview) debut The Map of Salt and Stars returns with this remarkably moving and lyrical novel following three generations of Syrian Americans who are linked by a mysterious species of bird and the truths they carry close to their hearts.

Five years after a suspicious fire killed his ornithologist mother, a closeted Syrian American trans boy sheds his birth name and searches for a new one. He has been unable to paint since his mother’s ghost has begun to visit him each evening. As his grandmother’s sole caretaker, he spends his days cooped up in their apartment, avoiding his neighborhood masjid, his estranged sister, and even his best friend (who also happens to be his longtime crush). The only time he feels truly free is when he slips out at night to paint murals on buildings in the once-thriving Manhattan neighborhood known as Little Syria.

One night, he enters the abandoned community house and finds the tattered journal of a Syrian American artist named Laila Z, who dedicated her career to painting the birds of North America. She famously and mysteriously disappeared more than sixty years before, but her journal contains proof that both his mother and Laila Z encountered the same rare bird before their deaths. In fact, Laila Z’s past is intimately tied to his mother’s—and his grandmother’s—in ways he never could have expected. Even more surprising, Laila Z’s story reveals the histories of queer and transgender people within his own community that he never knew. Realizing that he isn’t and has never been alone, he has the courage to officially claim a new name: Nadir, an Arabic name meaning rare.

As unprecedented numbers of birds are mysteriously drawn to the New York City skies, Nadir enlists the help of his family and friends to unravel what happened to Laila Z and the rare bird his mother died trying to save. Following his mother’s ghost, he uncovers the silences kept in the name of survival by his own community, his own family, and within himself, and discovers the family that was there all along.

TW/CW: transphobia, xenophobia, racism, Islamophobia, miscarriage, grief, sexual assault, animal death, loss of a parent

I didn’t go into The Thirty Names of Night with any expectations, but I was stunned by the writing! This novel is one of the best magical realism novels I’ve read in recent years, with writing as rich as a tapestry and a story that’s just as well-woven.

Joukhadar’s writing style was the star of Thirty Names; this is the first of his novels that I’ve read, but he has such a unique talent for finding unlikely comparisons and weaving them into the richest, most obvious but out-of-sight metaphors imaginable. I would never have compared the gray sky on a foggy day to the color of a kitchen knife, and somehow, it was right in front of me. His talent for metaphor suited the emotional depth of this story, as well as the almost fantastical element of the birds in New York—I will never claim to be the expert on him, but if there was any story that was suited for Joukhadar to tell, it’s this one.

That writing also made the emotional core of this story possible. There’s so much to Thirty Names: gender identity, grief, heritage, family, and the body itself, but all of it was handled with such grace and aplomb that made the story feel really, truly real. I might’ve even passed the aspect of the birds by as something that could feasibly happen with how this story was written. Every part of this novel is deeply moving, raw and beautiful, and the prose flows as smoothly as air over a bird’s wings.

All in all, a beautiful, literary tale of connections—to family, to gender, and to the world around us at large. 4.25 stars!

💙💗🤍💗💙

The City in the Middle of the Night, Charlie Jane Anders

summary from Goodreads:

“If you control our sleep, then you can own our dreams…And from there, it’s easy to control our entire lives.”

From the brilliant mind of Charlie Jane Anders (“A master absurdist”—New York Times; “Virtuoso”—NPR) comes a new novel of Kafkaesque futurism. Set on a planet that has fully definitive, never-changing zones of day and night, with ensuing extreme climates of endless, frigid darkness and blinding, relentless light, humankind has somehow continued apace—though the perils outside the built cities are rife with danger as much as the streets below.

But in a world where time means only what the ruling government proclaims, and the levels of light available are artificially imposed to great consequence, lost souls and disappeared bodies are shadow-bound and savage, and as common as grains of sand. And one such pariah, sacrificed to the night, but borne up by time and a mysterious bond with an enigmatic beast, will rise to take on the entire planet–before it can crumble beneath the weight of human existence.

TW/CW: animal attack/animal death, police brutality, body horror

Alright, so the only explicitly stated Latinx characters, specifically of Mexican ancestry, are named…Carlos and Maria? So most everybody else gets semi-unique names, but not them? It’s like Cho Chang all over again…[LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER}

If I hadn’t read Victories Greater Than Death beforehand, I would’ve been more suspicious, but it seems like Anders has gotten a lot better with diversity on that front, but…still iffy. Just saying.

That aside, The City in the Middle of the Night was one of the more inventive dystopias that I’ve read recently, but it fell victim to very convoluted writing. It’s obvious from every page that Anders put so, so much work into creating a fleshed-out world with an equally fleshed-out history—that was a riotous success on her part. The premise of society being divided by a tidally-locked planet felt eerily feasible, and I absolutely ADORED all of the alien life forms on the night side of January—the Gelet were obviously my favorites, but I would’ve liked to have seen more creatures. ALWAYS MORE CREATURES.

However, Anders’ writing choices ended up making parts of The City in the Middle of the Night something of a struggle. The story itself ended up being rather convoluted and tangled, and I found myself getting lost and confused about wait, which side of the planet are we on again? Why are we here in the first place? The additions of a boatload of characters that ended up having very little consequence to the plot at large didn’t help either. This story had the potential to be incredible, but it ended up getting so lost in itself that it became an ordeal to figure out where I was.

All in all, an inventively-conceived dystopia that excelled in worldbuilding but floundered in its writing. 3.25 stars.

Tell me what you think! Did you participate in the #TransRightsReadathon, and if so, what books did you read? What do you think of these books? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (3/21/23) – The Shape of Water (film novelization)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

The Shape of Water has been my all-time favorite movie for several years now—I’m looking over my shoulder at the poster above my bed as I’m writing this. I had the novelization on my TBR for a few years, but only got around to it recently, probably for fear of it not living up to the film. I had no idea that it was a dual release with the film, but after reading it, the novelization of The Shape of Water struggled to live up to the poetic poignance of the film.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Shape of Water (novelization) – Guillermo del Toro and Daniel Kraus

Summary from Goodreads:

NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE FROM FOX SEARCHLIGHT

Visionary storyteller Guillermo del Toro and celebrated author Daniel Kraus combine their estimable talent in this haunting, heartbreaking love story.

The Shape of Water is set in Cold War-era Baltimore at the Occam Aerospace Research Center, which has recently received its most sensitive asset ever: an amphibious man captured in the Amazon. What unfolds is a stirring romance between the asset and one of the janitors on staff, a mute woman who uses sign language to communicate with the creature. 

Developed from the ground up as a bold two-tiered release—one story interpreted by two artists in the independent mediums of literature and film — The Shape of Water weaves together fantasy, horror, and romance to create a tale that is equally gripping on the page and on the big screen.

TW/CW: racism, homophobia, xenophobia, ableism, misogyny, sexual harassment/assault, blood, gore, murder, animal death, loss of loved ones

The Shape of Water is a movie that’s touched my heart in a way that I doubt any other will. In summation, the film is a testament to the marginalized experience—any kind of marginalized or othered group—and self-love and acceptance. Guillermo del Toro is a storyteller without parallel, and maybe that’s why I was so hesitant to pick up the novelization for so long. I had no idea that it was a dual release with the film, but either way, my fears ended up being confirmed—Daniel Kraus’ novelization is faithful in the barest, structural way, but largely failed to capture the heart of the film’s message.

I’m not familiar with Daniel Kraus’ other novels, but even a quick scan on Goodreads tells me that he’s a frequent collaborator with Guillermo del Toro, which, after reading this, frankly surprises me. Del Toro’s storytelling, from this film to Pan’s Labyrinth and the most recent Pinnochio, has a consistently strong emotional core, something that anchors the fantastical elements to our most core human experiences. And somehow, Kraus chose to adapt this novel in the most flat, checklist-like way possible. Yes, all of the beats of the film were there, as well as some bonus content. But thanks to Kraus’ dry writing, the emotional core—what made the story so deeply impactful in the first place—apparently flew straight over his head.

Now, before I get into my major gripes, I will say this—the novelization picks up far more at the halfway point. The chapters that Kraus writes from the perspective of The Asset were an unmistakable highlight, charming, dreamlike, and refreshingly strange compared to most of the other perspectives. I almost find myself wishing that the scene with Bob Hoffstetler and The Asset made it to the film. And the very climactic events in the third act were dealt with the appropriate amount of weight, and the pace picked up significantly, unlike the steady pace of the movie. And as much as I love the dance scene, I completely get the decision to nix it from the novel—out of all of the scenes to translate from screen to page, that would be at the top of the page.

With that out of the way, I was bothered by how much emphasis Kraus places on the antagonist, Strickland. There were some fascinating scenes that never made it to the film of the process of him capturing The Asset in the South American rainforest; they were interesting additions, and although I liked them in general, it mostly ended up being Strickland being incredibly racist. It’s painfully on brand for his character, but beyond that, it seemed like his character got the most page time out of the whole cast. He is the main villain, sure, but given that this story is about the marginalized experience and he is the predatory antithesis to what the film stands for, the decision didn’t leave the best taste in my mouth.

My other main issue was how Kraus wrote the character of Elisa Esposito. For the most part, Kraus was somewhat faithful to her personality, but there were multiple instances where the descriptions of her were incredibly concerning. On several occasions, she is described as “childlike” and “[like] a kindergartener” in scenes where she is struggling to communicate her needs—for those of you who have not seen this film, Elisa is mute, and she uses ASL to communicate. It’s already offensive on the front that Elisa is such a treasured character to me, but Kraus seems to, once again, miss the message of the film by a mile, and ends up right smack in the middle of the all-too-common trope of infantilizing disabled people—especially disabled women. Elisa is in no way “childlike” for trying to communicate her needs—she is a grown woman, and she is frustrated by the struggle to communicate with her abled peers in a world that is not built for her. Let me say it again: Elisa Esposito is a grown woman. Even though Kraus was somewhat respectful in some of his other descriptions of her, but these instances all but negated everything else that he had established in the adaptation.

All in all, a structurally faithful, occasionally beautiful, but often frustrating adaptation of a film that will forever have the prime spot in my heart. 3 stars from a peeved Guillermo del Toro fan. Just watch the movie instead.

The Shape of Water is a standalone, as the film is, but Daniel Kraus has also collaborated with Guillermo del Toro on the novel Trollhunters. Kraus is also the author of The Life and Death of Zebulon Finch, The Teddies Saga, and several other books for all ages.

Today’s song:

saw these legends on Friday night—such a beautiful experience, and I’ve had this song on repeat ever since

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (3/14/23) – Nightwatch on the Hinterlands

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I was a huge fan of K. Eason’s Thorne Chronicles when I first read them, so you can imagine my excitement when I found out that she was starting a companion series set in the same universe! (I didn’t find out until a few weeks ago, but that’s beside the point.) I jumped on the chance to put it on hold at the library, and I finally got to read it recently; however, I found Nightwatch on the Hinterlands to be an entirely different type of story than Rory Thorne, which, in this case, was its downfall.

For my double review of How Rory Thorne Destroyed the Multiverse and How the Multiverse Got Its Revenge, click here!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Nightwatch on the Hinterlands – K. Eason

It’s been decades since any of the riev—battle-mechas designed for the war effort—have done any harm to civilians. For years, they’ve been decommissioned or redesigned for labor purposes. So when Lieutenant Iari arrives at the scene of a crime and realizes that a riev may have been the perpetrator, she knows that the mystery will lead down a trail that she never anticipated treading. Along with Gaer, an ambassador-turned-spy, Iari must play a dangerous game amongst her planet’s criminal underbelly, one that may lead to something greater than a simple murder.

TW/CW: murder, blood, descriptions of injury, xenophobia (fictional—cast is almost exclusively aliens)

I was a massive fan of the Thorne Chronicles, but after reading Nightwatch on the Hinterlands, I’m sorely disappointed in the direction that K. Eason decided to go with this series—my most common thought while reading this novel was why include this?

As a starting point: why these characters? I liked Iari well enough in How the Multiverse Got Its Revenge, and she does have the potential to have an interesting story, but I didn’t get enough information in Multiverse to really care about her. I didn’t remember much about Gaer either, and he was a well-written and likable character, at the very least, but there wasn’t much that carried over from the previous books to make me care enough about him. These characters were virtually all that carried over from the Thorne Chronicles into this new series (The Weep), and that was where my disinterest began.

In concept, I like Eason’s decision to set Nightwatch in the seedy, criminal underbelly of the world that was touched on in the Thorne Chronicles. It’s a classic sci-fi setting, and with how rich Eason’s established world already was, it would be easy to make something compelling out of it. However, the Thorne Chronicles were far more centered around the human characters, and the aliens were more of a sideplot, mostly just appearing in Multiverse. Nightwatch, however, was entirely centered around the alien characters; normally, this is something I’d be 100% on board with, but without the context that could’ve been given in either Multiverse or in…y’know, some part of this book, I was left in the dark for any of the conventions of this part of Eason’s established world. I somehow understand that not giving glimpses of the other characters (Rory, Messer Rupert, etc.) would’ve been easy fan service, but other than Iari, if I hadn’t known that this was a companion book, I wouldn’t have seen the connection at all.

And on the subject of context…we needed so much more of it. So much more. Even though 90% of these alien species weren’t even talked about in the Thorne Chronicles, Eason wrote Nightwatch in a way that automatically assumes that readers know every single cultural aspect of every single alien species (of which there are many), as well as the context of the various wars that have gone on before the events of Nightwatch, in a very short timespan. I’m all for science fiction novels that don’t dump every single bit of exposition and worldbuilding into the story in one, unceremonious pile at the beginning, but this felt like the other extreme—wanting to avoid that so much that the reader is left without a single clue of what’s going on. I understand the concern that this writing style grew out of, but there really could’ve been a much more comprehensible happy medium in terms of worldbuilding. Beyond that, it’s clear to see how much time Eason put into creating these alien races and cultures, and that’s something I’ll always admire, but the effect of that got dwarfed by the alienating (no pun intended) fashion that she (did not properly) integrated them.

Like the approach to worldbuilding, Eason’s writing style in this novel is a double-edged sword. It’s a wildly different style from the endearingly irreverent but simultaneously observant voice that she used in the Thorne Chronicles. In contrast, Nightwatch had the distant feel of a hardboiled noir in space, quick and to the point, except for when information was delivered. On the one hand, it’s proof that Eason can be very versatile in terms of voice across her novels. On the other, this didn’t feel quite as genuine as the Thorne Chronicles—it made sense for the story, but the characters less likable, and the plot felt rushed, like constant running in circles from A to B without much context as to why or how. It suited the style of Nightwatch to a point, but it ended up being a detriment to both the pacing and my general enjoyment.

While I was reading, I was debating whether or not I wanted to stick it out for the rest of the series; I really wanted to give K. Eason the benefit of the doubt after how much I adored the Thorne Chronicles, but I don’t think I’ll be continuing The Weep after how unpleasant my experience with Nightwatch was. Obvious points go to the extensive worldbuilding and the clear time and care put into crafting this aspect of the world, but most of the other elements—the writing style, the way we got (or didn’t get) pieces of worldbuilding, and not much to make me care for the characters—brought my enjoyment down immensely. 2 stars.

Nightwatch on the Hinterlands is the first book in the Weep series, succeeded by Nightwatch Over Windscar. This series is a companion to the Thorne Chronicles, which consists of How Rory Thorne Destroyed the Multiverse and How the Multiverse Got Its Revenge. K. Eason is also the author of several other novels, including the On the Bones of Gods series (Enemy, Outlaw, and Ally).

Today’s song:

BACK ON THE PETER GABRIEL TRAIN FELLAS CHOO CHOO

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (3/7/23) – The Fifth Season (The Broken Earth, #1)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I forget what triggered it, but a few years back, I piled a bunch of N.K. Jemisin’s books onto my TBR. I just finished up the Great Cities duology recently and enjoyed it (though The World We Make I enjoyed less so), but I was still excited to read the Broken Earth series from all of the praise it’s been given. I’m usually wary of overly long fantasy books, but The Fifth Season defied all of my expectations and delivered one of the most well-crafted fantasies I’ve read in recent years.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Fifth Season (The Broken Earth, #1) – N.K. Jemisin

In the land of the Stillness, natural disasters are an inevitable part of life. Every so often, the land goes through cycles of extreme weather, where the earth tears itself apart and the land is blanketed in ash and darkness.

This Fifth Season has arrived once more, and with it comes a world in chaos. Amidst the chaos is Essun, a woman on the run after witnessing her husband murder her young son. Her last hope is her daughter, whose whereabouts are unknown. But in a land filled with unknown disasters and people willing to turn on the orogenes—those with the power to control the earth—Essun must overcome unimaginable hurdles to find her daughter and bring her to safety.

TW/CW: murder, infanticide, abuse, mentions of genocide, slavery, implied rape (child), descriptions of injury/blood, sexual coercion, kidnapping, human experimentation

This is my own bias here, but as a principle, I’m automatically weary of overly long fantasy books; that length usually means something along the lines of either a) excessive, infodumped worldbuilding , b) long stretches of the story without much plot, or c) a combination of both. But The Fifth Season proved me SO wrong on that front—Jemisin dodged both of those traps effortlessly, resulting in one of the most inventive fantasy books I’ve read in years.

My first exposure to N.K. Jemisin was through the Great Cities duology, and I was surprised at how starkly different the writing styles were; The City We Became was witty, but rather ham-fisted more often than not, which somewhat suited the story she was telling. The writing of The Fifth Season was a much better fit for the story’s tone: it hit the balance of being to-the-point and fantastical, a style which, given some of the very dark themes that this novel explores, gives it the respect that it deserves. After finishing this novel, I’m more inclined to this style, but above all, reading the two is proof of her versatility of a writer—Jemisin can bridge the tonal gap and make it look ridiculously easy.

About the worldbuilding—The Fifth Season boasts some of the most detailed and compelling worldbuilding that I’ve seen in a fantasy series, but compelling is the part that I want to emphasize. It’s one thing to flesh out your world, but if the detail you give it is arbitrary and irrelevant to the story you’re trying to tell, it becomes redundant. But Jemisin gives the world of the Stillness a rich, believable history, and considers every consequence imaginable of the constraints in her world. Every ramification of the concepts in her world are considered, and they’re shown in organic ways, from the (gruesome) depictions of how the humans have systemically oppressed the orogenes (also a very sharp social commentary) to the biological consequences of a world constantly gripped by extreme natural disasters. Jemisin left no stones unturned, and it paid off in such an enjoyable way.

And if there’s one thing that N.K. Jemisin can do exceptionally well, it’s make me despise a character with every cell of my being. Her protagonists are compelling, but she’s so skilled at making characters that absolutely make your skin crawl. Both Schaffa and Alabaster were case studies in manipulation, and so many of their scenes, especially when they interacted with Damaya and Syenite, respectively, it was genuinely hard to read, but still so authentic to how authority figures often manipulate those below them, especially if they’re young women. Bottom line: they both sucked, but N.K. Jemisin did a disturbingly good job of making them suck so realistically.

I debated on whether or not to discuss this last part, but it’s really best to go in blind—even if I put a spoiler warning and discussed it, I don’t think I could get across how mind-blowingly well-crafted the main twist with the different POVs was. It’s…AGH. IT WAS JUST SO WELL-DONE. I CAN’T SPEAK COHERENTLY ABOUT IT. Again, even if the worldbuilding is confusing. GO INTO THIS BOOK BLIND. YOU WON’T REGRET IT. IT’S AMAZING. TRUST ME. And a sidetone—props to N.K. Jemisin for seamlessly pulling off a 2nd person POV, and, once again, making it look easy.

All in all, a fantasy novel that defied my expectations on nearly every front, resulting in one of the most enjoyable reads I’ve had all year. 4.25 stars!

The Fifth Season is the first book in the Broken Earth trilogy, followed by The Obelisk Gate (book 2) and The Stone Sky (book 3). Jemisin is also the author of The Great Cities series (The City We Became and The World We Make), the Far Sector series for DC Comics, and many other books.

Today’s song:

this song is delightful, and it’s also proof that the middle school boys who used axe body spray instead of showering have always existed in some form or another

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/28/23) – Nothing Burns as Bright as You

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles! I refuse to believe that February is almost over…

I didn’t know that Ashley Woodfolk had come out with a new book until very recently, and I ended up picking it up more on a whim than anything. But Nothing Burns as Bright as You quickly became my favorite read of this month, and easily the best of Woodfolk’s work that I’ve read. Raw, visceral, and consistently powerful, Woodfolk’s prose is great, but her poetry is something else entirely.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Nothing Burns as Bright as You – Ashley Woodfolk

Written in verse, Nothing Burns follows two unnamed girls, best friends who slowly but surely realize that they’ve become something more. But when one’s actions begin to toe the line of their relationship, their love—and their lives—fall in jeopardy. The foundation that once sustained their relationship has begun to crumble, but whether it can be glued back together will be decided in the blink of an eye.

TW/CW: racism, homophobia (some religious homophobia), substance abuse, sexual harassment

I kind of love the feeling when a book you just picked up on a whim hits you harder than you ever could have anticipated. I just thought “oh, it’s Ashley Woodfolk, I liked her last book, what could go wrong,” and the next thing I know, I’m highlighting every other line on my Kindle. Nothing Burns as Bright as You is just that powerful, a poignant story of the complexities of a toxic relationship.

Woodfolk’s prose is already excellent, as evidenced in When You Were Everything and several of her short stories, but her poetry hits a note so resonant that I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every line is nothing short of genius—clever and observant, but nothing short of raw and painful. Nothing Burns as Bright as You is a heart laid bare for all to see, unflinching in the complicated, nuanced realities it depicts.

It would be easy to romanticize the events of Nothing Burns as Bright as You, but Woodfolk knew exactly how to avoid it; it’s a story about falling so hard in love that you lose yourself, but it’s also about coming to terms with loving somebody who drags you through the mud, who breaks you down even when they promise to love you. Setting fire to a dumpster outside of a high school is the perfect set-up for a coming-of-age romance, but a coming-of-age romance this isn’t…and is. The emphasis should be on the coming-of-age part; it’s about learning to heal from somebody that you thought loved you, and grappling with the fact that love isn’t black and white, and like a fire, it can give you warmth, but also consume you to the point of no return.

Even when both of the protagonists went unnamed, their personalities and stories shone through in every page. Despite the fact that it made writing my summary here a little tricky, the character study is vibrant enough that you don’t need names to tell each character apart—their clashing personalities come through in every relentlessly beautiful line. It’s so important to tell more inclusive love stories, but the reality is that not everything is quite so neat and simple—sapphic love isn’t always sunshine and roses. We need our stories of queer Black girls falling in love, but we need our stories of queer Black girls growing from complicated, toxic relationships almost just as much.

All in all, a startlingly raw and beautiful story of the complexities of queer love and being with somebody to the point of danger. 4.5 stars!

Nothing Burns as Bright as You is a standalone, but Ashley Woodfolk is also the author of When You Were Everything and The Beauty That Remains, and has also contributed short stories to collections such as Blackout, A Phoenix Must First Burn, and several others.

Today’s song:

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH THIS IS SO GOOD I LIKE IT EVEN MORE THAN MOST OF CRACKER ISLAND????

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/21/23) – Cool. Awkward. Black.

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’m always up for diverse anthologies, and the fact that this one focused on both sci-fi/fantasy stories and geek/nerd culture from a Black lens was an instant sell for me! There were a few authors that I was familiar with and liked in here—Jordan Ifueko, Roseanne A. Brown, and Leah Johnson, to name a few—so that helped its case too. But as with any anthology, there were hits and misses, but there were still a fair amount of gems within Cool. Awkward. Black.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Cool. Awkward. Black. – edited by Karen Strong (anthology)

summary from Goodreads:

A multi-genre YA anthology of bestselling, critically acclaimed Black authors challenging the concept of the geek, featuring contributions from Amerie, Kalynn Bayron, Terry J. Benton-Walker, Roseanne A. Brown, Elise Bryant, Tracy Deonn, Desiree S. Evans, Isaac Fitzsimons, Lamar Giles, Jordan Ifueko, Leah Johnson, Amanda Joy, Kwame Mbalia, Tochi Onyebuchi, Shari B. Pennant, K. Arsenault Rivera, Julian Winters, and Ibi Zoboi.

A girl who believes in UFOs; a boy who might have finally found his Prince Charming; a hopeful performer who dreams of being cast in her school’s production of The Sound of Music; a misunderstood magician of sorts with a power she doesn’t quite understand.

These plotlines and many more compose the eclectic stories found within the pages of this dynamic, exciting, and expansive collection featuring exclusively Black characters. From contemporary to historical, fantasy to sci-fi, magical to realistic, and with contributions from a powerhouse list of self-proclaimed geeks and bestselling, award-winning authors, this life-affirming anthology celebrates and redefines the many facets of Blackness and geekiness–both in the real world and those imagined.

TW/CW: racism, misogyny, religion-based bigotry

Cool. Awkward. Black. was hit or miss as a whole, but above all, there were a few fantastic stories in the bunch, and I loved the spotlight on Black sci/fi fantasy, as well as geek culture. With all Black protagonists, many of which are queer and/or disabled, it’s a breath of fresh air, even if not every story was a hit for me.

Since this is an anthology, I’ll do shorter reviews of each story in chronological order.

~

“Our Joy, Our Power” – Julian Winters (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)

I was expecting to not be a fan of this one after not being a fan of Running With Lions, but this was a surprisingly sweet story! With a tender, queer romance at a comic con and some great commentary on the racism within cosplay culture, this was a great start to the anthology. I’m not sure if it’s enough for me to give Winters’ novels another chance, but I certainly enjoyed it.

“The Book Club” – Shari B. Pennant (⭐️⭐️.5)

I felt obligated to like this one as a former book club president, but this one was a letdown. The concept of this one was interesting enough—a girl finds a book that seems to speak to her when she picks it up, and is then invited to a secret society of magic wielders in the guise of a book club—but the prose veered onto the cheesy side more often than not. I wish we’d gotten a little bit more context around the Society (and…okay, maybe the name was vague on purpose, but I would’ve liked a name more interesting than just “The Society”) and more of what their magic entailed other than the Evil Magician™️ that Must Be Defeated.

“Nina Evans, In the Round” – Kalynn Bayron (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

This one was an unexpected highlight of the anthology! Again, my expectations were rather low after how much of a sore disappointment Cinderella is Dead was for me, but I loved this story of a Black girl determined to get the role of Maria in her high school’s production of The Sound of Music. Her story of determination was a powerful and timely one, and I loved the poignant themes of Nina breaking the mold and never surrendering.

“Earth is Ghetto” – Ibi Zoboi (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Even without the fantastic title, “Earth is Ghetto” is undoubtedly one of the best stories in this anthology! It follows Ingrid, a Haitian immigrant, who witnesses First Contact, and upon speaking to the aliens and wishing to go to their planet, realizes that they harbor many of the same prejudices as humans back on Earth. It’s witty, it’s timely, and it’s unflinchingly questioning of the norms upon which both we and the aliens built our societies. I loved the hopeful ending as well; it’s hard to get this kind of ultimatum that Ingrid has to make across in such a short story, but Zoboi managed to do all that and subvert the usual tropes and endings that go along with it. Great stuff.

“Initiative Check” – K. Arsenault Rivera (⭐️⭐️⭐️)

This was the first time I’d ever heard of K. Arsenault Rivera, and this was a decent story, I’d say. The whole story comprises a group of friends and their Dungeons and Dragons campaign, and although I wasn’t as big of a fan of the campaign aspect of it, I loved the subtle, tender chemistry that Rivera created between her larger cast of characters. A nice, sweet story, but nothing that changed my life.

“Corner Booth” – Leah Johnson (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Following in the footsteps of Johnson’s solid rom-coms, “Corner Booth” was the story of two teens meeting after competing with each other for years over a competitive, Scrabble-like spelling app. I loved the definitions scattered throughout, showing Rose’s knack for strategy and etymology, and I loved the buildup of the enemies/rivals-to-lovers romance blossoming between her and Wes. It’s an adorable addition to the anthology, and a standout without a doubt.

“Betty’s Best Craft” – Elise Bryant (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)

Elise Bryant perfectly captures the chaos of a high school group project, but I find myself wishing that mine had the romance of this story. Another sweet enemies-to-friends/lovers, Bryant wonderfully weaves in the grudge that Betty’s had against Jhamir for years, and takes that buildup into a blossoming friendship—or maybe something more—on a final project for an African American History class. I’ve only read Bryant’s Happily Ever Afters, but “Betty’s Best Craft” felt the same way—a light, sweet, and artsy romance of second chances.

“The Panel Shows the Girl” – Amanda Joy (⭐️⭐️.5)

I really wanted to like this one, and there was one aspect that I really did like—the discussion around disability and accommodations. Amaya’s struggles with trying to get accommodations for her ADHD was one that I knew all too well, and I’m glad to see that perspective represented. That being said, the rest of the story felt clunky to me; the twist about the drawings coming to life felt shoehorned in and poorly executed, and most of the dialogue felt stilted and corny as well. Shame…

“Spirit-Filled” – Jordan Ifueko (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

I expected nothing less from the author of Raybearer, and “Spirit-Filled” delivered! I loved the discussions around Romilly questioning her faith and the role of women, as well as the suspense built by Romilly’s secret library book locked in the supply closet of her church. Like many of the other short stories in this story, I love how unapologetic it is about questioning authority and systems, and Romilly was a great vehicle for exploring misogyny in some parts of organized religion. Plus, the youth pastor character was appropriately cringey, so that was pretty funny.

“Cole’s Cruise Blues” – Isaac Fitzsimmons (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)

Although I wasn’t as much of a fan of the writing in this one, it had a wonderful emotional core, and I loved that it featured a trans protagonist! Also, I definitely felt for poor Hailey…man, I feel that 10 year old feel of botching something in front of an audience 😭 I JUST WANNA GIVE THE POOR KID A HUG

“High Strangeness” – Desiree S. Evans (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

More than ever, this story made me yearn for the experience of stargazing in the middle of nowhere with a goth girlfriend…is that too much to ask?

…please?

“Catalyst Rising” – Tracy Deonn (⭐️⭐️.5)

Unlike some of the other stories, I went into this story with low expectations, and the low expectations were…met. I wasn’t as blown away by Legendborn as everybody else seemed to be, and this story was more of the same. It felt like a very cliched setup for a fantasy chosen one in the real world, and although I liked the inclusion of Petra’s anxiety, the story as a whole just felt so overdone and exaggerated.


“Requiem of Souls” – Terry J. Benton-Walker (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)

I LOVED the concept of this one, especially the trio of unique ghosts that follow Rocko around, and Rocko using them to get back at those who have wronged him. The musical aspect was a lot of fun as well, and it added some very Tim Burton-like, campy fun to this story. Plus, although being Gen Z has given me a permanent Minecraft association to the word “creeper,” I loved this story’s monstrous Creeper as well.

“Honor Code” – Kwame Mbalia (⭐️⭐️)

The dialogue felt very stilted for me on this one, and beyond that, it felt more like a comprehensive guide to LARPing and not an actual story. If “Honor Code” leaned more on the present day and not so heavily on the multiple flashbacks, it would’ve held so much more water. This one might be my least favorite story in the collection.

“Drive Time” – Lamar Giles (⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Although it wasn’t the most well-written of the collection, I loved the multiple POVs and the nonstop action of “Drive Time.” The writing was more than a little cheesy, but unlike some of the other stories, it felt cheesy for the right reasons—this story is essentially if a botched driver’s test turned into something like Fast & Furious, after all. I appreciate the art of well-placed cheese.

“Wolf Tracks” – Roseanne A. Brown (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Nothing beats werewolves tearing a racist troll to shreds (literally, in this sense), does it? I was super excited to read Brown’s addition to the story, and she delivers every bit of it with humor, heart, and grounding emotion that balances levity with more grounded themes.

“The Hero’s Journey” – Tochi Onyebuchi (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)

I wasn’t expecting to like this one as much after how disappointing Beasts Made of Night was, but “The Hero’s Journey” perfectly captured writer’s block in a way that I’ve never seen in a short story—or any novel that I can think of. I didn’t expect to be called out with the [INSERT CHARACTER NAME IN BRACKETS], but here we are. Happens to the best of us.

“Abyss” – Amerie (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

I was super impressed by Amerie’s short story in A Phoenix Must First Burn, and her story here was a perfect sendoff for Cool. Awkward. Black. Her character work and descriptions are once again fantastic, and for once, she can make a lack of quotation marks in dialogue an understandable stylistic choice that still makes the story flow. The latter is something that usually gets on my nerves, but Amerie used it greatly to her advantage in “Abyss.”

I averaged out my ratings for each story, and they came out to about a 3.5! I’d say that’s accurate—it was a mixed bag, but there were unexpected gems from both authors that I love and authors that I didn’t like as much previously. Not every one shone, but there were enough fantastic ones in there to make this a wonderful experience. And my ratings aside, I loved the diversity of both the characters and the genres of each story—it’s a very unique collection. 3.5 stars!

Cool. Awkward. Black. is an anthology, and if you click this Goodreads link, you can see all of the previous works of the many authors featured in this collection.

Today’s song:

GAH this has been stuck in my head for a week straight it’s so good

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/14/23) – Son of the Storm (The Nameless Republic, #1)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles, and happy Valentine’s Day! I’ve got no plans other than eating cookies, but I’m all for spreading the love. 💗

Son of the Storm has been on my radar for…about 6 months? A year? I’m not sure, but either way, I’m glad I picked it up. Usually, long, epic fantasy books like this make me lose interest, but Suyi Davies Okungbowa has written a tale that had me hooked almost all the way through.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Son of the Storm (The Nameless Republic, #1) – Suyi Davies Okungbowa

Danso is well on the way to becoming a renowned scholar, but despite the path set before him, he seeks more in life than what his university can teach him. He knows that the city of Bassa has sinister secrets woven into its history, walling itself away from the rest of the world and making every immigrant swear to secrecy. Danso’s bravado catches up with him when he discovers Lilong—and along with her, a type of magic that he never knew existed. A magic that bonds to him, and a magic that could determine his fate and the fates of Bassa itself.

TW/CW: graphic violence, racism/colorism, immolation, blood

These days, it’s rare for an epic fantasy over 500 pages to keep my attention; to pull it off, you have to not only have great worldbuilding, but you have to buoy it with some kind of action and character building, and more often than not, many will lean on one to propel the page count. I was hoping that Son of the Storm wouldn’t fall into that trap, but to my relief, it gave us all of those elements and more, making for a compelling fantasy that hooked me on the rest of the series!

It’s clear to me that so much care was put into the characters of Son of the Storm, but Danso stood out the most to me. He’s refreshingly fleshed out—he’s lovably cocky, he’s determined, and he can talk his way out of any situation. Beyond that, there was so much nuance to him that made the plot all the more compelling; the wrongs within Bassa had a personal connection to his own family history, and that drove him to discover more about the outside world. It’s a low bar, I know, but I’m so used to epic fantasy having issues that are only tangentially related to their protagonists, and giving Danso a more personal, tangible connection to the plot made the story all the more interesting to read.

And that’s in no small part thanks to Okungbowa’s fantastic writing! His prose hit the perfect balance of fantastical and grounded, making the human aspect of the story shine through. The moments of humor are balanced with moments of meditation on systemic issues and personal biases, and there wasn’t a moment that I thought that either were too much or too little. Although the plot did have brief moments of lulling, Okungbowa easily revived the suspense and action to keep the story moving in ways that made sense and were integral to the journeys of each character. In my experience, it’s difficult to keep up that pace for over 500 pages; usually, something gets lost in the worldbuilding or somewhere else, but Son of the Storm was, for the most part, consistently action-packed.

Back to the characters, however, is where my major problem came in: the multiple POV structure. Normally, I’m a sucker for multiple POVs when they’re done well, giving the reader a chance to see the story through the eyes of several, fleshed-out characters. It’s clear that Okungbowa loves his characters, but maybe he loved them…a little too much. During the last half of the book, we got the POVs of a few side characters that only had relevance in a certain section of the book, taking away the spotlight from the development of the main characters, such as Danso, Lilong, and Zaq. A lot of the time, these characters’ voices didn’t even come through, making the fact that the chapter is from their POV nearly pointless. Having the POVs consistently switch between Danso, Lilong, Zaq, and maybe Esheme would have made the story flow so much better, and it would have made sense to focus on their development rather than a passing side character.

All in all, an action-packed piece of fantasy with lovable characters and a plot that kept me guessing. 4 stars!

Son of the Storm is the first in the Nameless Republic series, followed by Warrior of the Wind, which is slated for release in November of this year. Suyi Davies Okungbowa is also the author of David Mogo Godhunter and several other short stories.

Today’s song:

listened to this album (Leisure) yesterday, and it was a lot of fun!! this one’s a standout

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (2/7/23) – The Midnight Library

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’ve had this book on my radar for a few years now, but I wanted to read it after the ocean of hype died down. I forgot about it for a while, and I found a copy at my college’s library, and figured that it might be worth a try—I read The Humans, also by Matt Haig, and thought it was decent, so I decided to take a stab. I lowered my expectations to average from all of the hype, but The Midnight Library ended up being even worse than I thought—insultingly un-nuanced and a wholly frustrating read.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Midnight Library – Matt Haig

Nora Seed has reached what seems to be a dead end in her life. All of her childhood dreams never came to fruition, and now she’s stuck in her thirties with nowhere to go. But after she attempts to take her own life, Nora finds herself in the Midnight Library, where every book on the endless shelves contains an alternate life—lives where she pursued different dreams, different boyfriends, and every other imaginable outcome. As she travels through a multitude of alternate realities, Nora must come to terms with herself and how she wants to live her life—full of regrets, or full of hope?

TW/CW: suicide/suicidal ideations, animal attack, loss of a loved one, depression, panic attacks, animal death, substance abuse, cancer

A recurring thought that came to me while reading The Midnight Library was that it was like if you sucked every ounce of nuance and complexity out of Everything, Everywhere, All At Once. I know full well that Everything came out two years after this novel, but my point still stands. In the abstract, the message of The Midnight Library was good, but it had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the face, which made for an exceedingly unpleasant reading experience.

The Midnight Library is a case study in the effect of good or bad execution of a story idea. If you have a good idea but don’t execute it well, the idea itself gets bogged down in all of the structural flaws of the writing itself. The message that Matt Haig tried to get across was a good one—focusing on living your life, not getting bogged down with regrets, and giving yourself a chance to change—but it was so ham-handed in its delivery that all of the nuance (of which there was SO much potential) was erased entirely. It was so clear that The Midnight Library was trying to say something, but without any complexity, it ended up spitting out nothing that we haven’t heard before.

For instance, in one life, Nora Seed is a world-famous rockstar selling out arena shows all around the world. However, as Nora progresses through this alternate timeline, she realizes that this alternate self is feeling empty inside, and that fame has left her a barren shell of what she once was. That’s all well and good, and it’s a good message that fame does not automatically equal happiness. But at the end of the chapter, this message was digestibly packaged into a short platitude, right above Nora’s hypothetical follower count on social media. It was almost insulting how it was delivered—what was the point of that when Haig showed it through his writing just a page before? Even if you’re not a writer, if you’re ever taught about writing in school, “show, don’t tell” is one of the first principles that you’re taught. As a reader, it feels insulting to one’s intelligence: I got the message just fine, why be that redundant and blatantly obvious?

Furthermore, a lot of the potential lives, even though they were neatly and obviously packaged to the reader to teach them a lesson, ended up contributing nothing to the plot. When they did contribute, the message was reiterated by the all-knowing librarian, as if I’m watching a children’s show, each episode ending with an “and what did we learn today, kids?” kind of message. The Midnight Library isn’t all that long of a book, but a good quarter of the misadventures through Nora’s alternate lives didn’t serve any purpose, even though that was the obvious intent.

Lastly—Matt Haig isn’t at fault for this first part, but dear lord, do not let the synopsis fool you. This is not a feel-good book. The inciting incident for The Midnight Library is Nora attempting suicide, and that got glossed over so much in the marketing of the book. For the first part of the book, I feel like Nora’s mental health issues, although they aren’t explicitly named, were dealt with respectfully, but once it got to the end of the book, it took a turn for the worse. As if by magic, Nora’s depression is cured, and she now has the will to live again, after glimpsing all of her alternate lives. It really felt harmful—yes, this is a sci-fi/fantasy book, but depression and other mental health issues don’t magically disappear after a romp through alternate realities. Downplaying something as serious as depression and suicide really didn’t sit right with me, and it felt like the ending of the book erased something that should have been acknowledged far more in this book.

All in all, a disappointing book that decided to take its well-intentioned message and knock you over the head with it, thereby erasing all attempts at nuance and complexity. 2 stars.

The Midnight Library is a standalone, but Matt Haig is also the author of The Humans, How to Stop Time, The Radleys, and several other books.

Today’s song:

I like this one even more than Panopticom—I can’t wait to see what else this album brings!!

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (1/31/23) – A Million to One

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I hate to end the month on a negative note review-wise, but I just wasn’t a fan of this novel. I’ve been following Adiba Jaigidar’s books for a little while, and for the most part (still don’t see why Hani and Ishu still gets that much hype), she does well with writing diverse YA romances. I was excited to see her take on a different genre, but to my disappointment, A Million to One read as a half-baked, flimsy excuse for a heist.

For my review of Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating, click here!

Enjoy this week’s review!

A Million to One – Adiba Jaigirdar

Josefa, Emilie, Hinnah, and Violeta: four girls from radically different backgrounds, thrown together on the RMS Titanic. Their mission: to steal a copy of the Rubaiyat, embedded with jewels and worth a fortune. With all of their skills combined, the girls are confident that they can swipe the priceless book once and for all. But the Titanic is filled with distractions, romance, and all sorts of obstacles, and the job may be easier said than done. Add in the recent revelation that the Titanic is sinking, and the four realize that they may be in over their heads…

TW/CW: drowning, mentions of parental abuse, loss of loved ones, abandonment

Yikes. I think I’m gonna have to break up with Adiba Jaigirdar after this one. I loved The Henna Wars, Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating was decent but nothing earth-shattering, and now A Million to One was just plain disappointing. Her books have just gotten progressively worse for me? I really appreciate that she’s branching out from romance, but it really seems like she bit off more than she could chew.

Before I get to all my gripes, I will say that I loved, as with all of Jaigirdar’s novels, the amount of diversity. It’s historical fiction, but we have Black, Pakistani, and Croatian characters, a sapphic romance, and all but one of the main characters are immigrants, which is always fantastic to see. The thing about A Million to One was that everything came down to the execution, and the execution failed miserably.

If I had to sum up A Million to One in brief terms, it feels like Jaigirdar was watching your garden-variety heist movie, fell asleep half an hour in, and then tried to write a book from that memory as soon as she woke up. All of the beats of a typical heist were technically there, but they all but stood around and did nothing. Everything that should have been interesting about this novel—getting the gang together, the Titanic setting, carrying out the heist, the romance—was glossed over in favor of a good 100 pages of dithering in between each major plot point. It was the skeleton of a heist, lacking all of the meat and muscle that would have made it substantial.

For instance: the first few chapters of the novel. These were dedicated to Josefa assembling her crew, which is the kind of beat that I really enjoy in any kind of heist plot. However, all it consisted of was Josefa randomly going up to the rest of the characters with seemingly no explanation and offering them the job, and them either agreeing to it immediately (???), or, if we were lucky, having a paragraph of deliberation before agreeing to it. This could have been a perfect opportunity to develop the characters (especially since they weren’t developed much at all throughout the novel anyway) and introduce their personalities/roles in the heist, but we got absolutely none of that. It wasn’t like A Million to One was so long that this part of the plot needed to be cut down for time—it’s barely over 300 pages. There was no excuse for that.

And for the amount of opportunities that Jaigirdar had to develop these four characters, most of them were shockingly underdeveloped. Other than some insight on the motivations of Violeta and Emilie, all four characters had nearly indistinguishable voices, personalities, and no reason for being on the mission other than a vague role. We got a bit of a tragic backstory for Hinnah, at least, but a tragic backstory with nothing else to go off of does not a well-developed character make. In addition, we only got a vague idea of what the characters’ roles were—the actress, the thief, the acrobat, and the forger—often with no context. For instance: Violeta was supposed to be an actress, but we got no idea of her background, her training, and how she got to be so good. For a novel that seemed to market the diversity and individuality of the crew, it would’ve been leagues better if I had been able to tell who was who without the chapter titles.

The majority of the novel ended up being a bunch of meaningless dithering about on the Titanic, which was intended to…build up the suspense, I supposed, but it felt like far too many pages of The Gang running around the ship, chatting with a boy or two, trying to throw the guards off their trail, and making no progress whatsoever. There was supposed to be a romance somewhere hidden in there, but it ended up being my problem with Hani and Ishu, amplified: two characters just got thrown together with zero prior chemistry, insinuation, or anything that would suggest love. It got to the point where any movement in the novel was indistinguishable, and by the time I finally got around to the actual heist, any semblance of suspense or action had vanished. The only thing that managed to partially grab my attention was the fact that the Titanic had started to sink, but by then, the only aspect that somewhat grabbed my attention was that half of the main cast died. If major character deaths are the only thing that are keeping your reader interested, then something is very wrong with your plot.

All in all, a break from form for Adiba Jaigirdar, but one that ended in a half-baked, borderline boring disaster. 2 stars.

A Million to One is a standalone, but Adiba Jaigirdar is also the author of The Henna Wars, Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating, and the forthcoming The Dos and Donuts of Love.

I’ve already posted once today, but have another song anyway:

such a lovely cover 😭

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (1/24/22) – The Last Cuentista

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I’ve had The Last Cuentista on my TBR for a fair amount of time, but I’d forgotten about it until I saw a copy at my college’s library, so I ended up picking it up. I remembered almost nothing about the synopsis or why I wanted to pick it up in the first place, but what I found was a beautiful tale of the power of storytelling.

Enjoy this week’s review!

The Last Cuentista – Donna Barba Higuera

Petra Peña loves nothing more than listening to the stories of her abuelita, and dreams of someday being a storyteller like her. But when Earth is put in danger by a comet, she must abandon her abuelita and travel with her parents and younger brother to planet Sagan, where humanity can start over. But on the centuries-long journey, the ship is infiltrated by the Collective, a shady organization who aims to erase the crimes of humanity’s past by wiping the memories of all the passengers. When Petra wakes up, she realizes that she is the only one who remembers Earth—and the only one who can save what remains of the human species from forgetting itself altogether.

TW/CW: loss of loved ones, descriptions of injury, fear, descriptions of sleep paralysis

Good middle-grade sci-fi is hard to come by, but The Last Cuentista was nothing short of wonderful. With a story as beautiful as its cover, it’s a shining testament to the power of storytelling and a poignant reminder to never forget where you came from.

I know I opened with specifically saying that The Last Cuentista is middle-grade, but I’d say it toes the line right between middle grade and YA. Petra is 13 years old, and there’s certainly some more middle-grade aspects to how the themes are dealt with and some of the character interactions, but it borders on hardcore, nail-biting sci-fi in other places. Think of every piece of sci-fi media that deals with cryosleep for several centuries, and think of all of the potential, existential obstacles that come along with it: chances are, they do end up appearing in this book. It’s a weird place to navigate reading-wise when you’re that age (I certainly remember wishing that there was an in-between place for middle grade and YA), but The Last Cuentista retains a middle-grade sensibility without downplaying the integrity of its themes and world simply because it’s aimed at a younger audience.

One of the strongest aspects of The Last Cuentista was Donna Barba Higuera’s fantastic writing. She especially excels at sensory details; in a particularly nail-biting scene when Petra is still awake while her pod is preparing for cryosleep (AAAAAAAAAAAAAA), Higuera filled her prose with all kinds of sensory details that really sold the crushing fear of the moment. Her descriptions of the bizarre flora and fauna of Sagan are just as lush, painting a picture of an alien planet just as well as Petra’s abuelita paints stories. Higuera’s ability to create suspense and her ability to spin beautiful prose went hand in hand, making for a novel that had me invested the whole time.

The Last Cuentista also had some beautiful themes; Petra’s quest to keep the history of humanity alive through storytelling serves to remind us that we should never forget who we are, despite having a history wracked with war and darkness. The Collective was a perfect, sinister dystopia to set this theme against, and they also added to the suspense that Higuera consistently built throughout the novel. Petra’s journey to return humanity to its roots was poignantly written and so wonderfully timely, and I have no doubt that The Last Cuentista will be a book that stands the test of time. In the end, we are all united by the stories that bind us together. Never underestimate the power of a storyteller.

My only gripe with this novel were some of the characters. Other than Petra and her family, most of the side characters felt interchangeable. A few of them had a few base traits to go off of, but other than that, I often found myself getting them mixed up. The switch from the Greek letter/number designations to nicknames didn’t necessarily help, although it was clearly important thematically. I wish we’d gotten as much development out of at least some of them as we got with Petra and maybe Voxy—the story was powerful by itself, but it would have been more so if some of the other characters were more fleshed out.

All in all, a beautiful piece of sci-fi that reminds us that stories have the power to do anything—change us, teach us, and above all, unite us. 4 stars!

The Last Cuentista is a standalone, but Donna Barba Higuera is also the author of Lupe Wong Won’t Dance, as well as the picture books El Cucuy is Scared, Too! and the upcoming The Yellow Handkerchief.

Today’s song:

shuffle decided to hit me right in the 6th grade feels today, I see

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!